Still Alive

I missed my chance to write yesterday so longer post here....this is another one of my stories that I have not shared with many people but that I feel compelled to write about....thanks for joining me on this journey.

If you did not read the blog post "take it from the top...or start at the bottom" - it might be helpful to read that first.

Back story:

Matt and I took a break after my September 2006 ectopic pregnancy to move past the loss and decide what we would do now that there was an actual reason for my infertility.  Having one functioning fallopian tube typically means that a pregnancy can only happen every other month so we stepped back to re-assess our next steps.

At the beginning of 2007, I started on a pretty aggressive, but natural treatment plan including chiropractic, acupuncture and Chinese herbs, and some guidance from Randine Lewis' book The Infertility Cure. 

Although I was the one who sometimes hated all the well meaning advice I was given during my time as a fertility patient - the three treatment options above are amazing (for fertility and well-being in general) and I have been known to tell people that in a very "well meaning" way.

Deja vu all over again when March came and I woke up one morning.  I remember it so clearly. I sat up in bed and just felt different. I said to myself "when have I ever felt like this before?" and it all came flooding back.

I sprang out of bed, grabbed a pregnancy test out from under my sink (still had quite a few) and sure enough -- the word "pregnant" appeared for the 2nd time in my long, crazy, exhausting fertility journey.  Matt's reaction was exactly the same - "how did that happen?" -- and we were thrust back into the feelings we had just a few months before when the stick said pregnant -- nervous, excited, surprised, and maybe even relieved.  All the hard work, the money, the strategizing, the planning (makes trying to conceive sound so romantic, right?) had paid off.

As before, we wanted to schedule a sonogram right away and we went into fertility patient mode all over again -- but this time, I was not under the care of my fertility doctors as we had been "taking a break" from all of that.

In fact, at the beginning of 2007, I had changed insurance plans thinking that the new one would be better for the more advanced treatment we might need after my ectopic pregnancy.

Fast forward a week or so and I finally convinced the OB/GYN who had seen me and my mom for years to do an earlier than 8 week sonogram for me.  He is an amazing man and I was so lucky that he said yes to my request.

Same as before, Matt and I met at his office and prepared ourselves for the sonogram.  In the back of our minds, we were hopeful but also scared.  As before, we sat holding hands and trying to be calm.  When the doctor called us back and we got started, it was eerily quiet and I looked at Matt's face very intently.  I could just see it in his eyes and feel it in the room.  Deja vu all over again.

Of course, my doctor knew about my first ectopic pregnancy which is why he agreed to this early sonogram. I turned to look at him and braced myself for what he was going to say.  It all felt like it was in slow motion.  The familiar, awful, sinking feeling washed back over both Matt and me.

I don't remember exactly what he said but he was so kind and so sweet and so sad for us too. I guess there is not good way to hear that news for the second time, but it was definitely a bit better coming from someone who really cared for me and felt so sad too.

We were sent off to another imaging center right away where they were going to take a more sophisticated sonogram in order to help plan the next course of action: drugs so that they could preserve my one fallopian tube or surgery.

After the imaging center and my doctor consulted, we were sent to the hospital by my doctor who called and set up all of our care in advance.  Ironically, it was the hospital where my mom works.  We had not told anyone this time around and we could not avoid that any longer.  Matt called her and told her that we were on our way.

It was a surreal few hours and thank God that my mom was there - she got Matt a parking pass, got him something to eat and was all around awesome like she always is.  There was one point in the procedure where Matt was asked to step out and my mom got to stay and my mom said something funny like "I think he has seen her ass just as many times as I have!" -- I laughed in spite of the awful circumstances.

By the time we left the hospital with very strict instructions of what I could and could not do for the next few weeks, I had been given methotrexate and told (long story short) that I would still have one fallopian tube.  Good news out of very bad news, we thought.

Fast forward a few weeks...

All of my blood tests showed that the pregnancy hormones in my body were declining and that the drug had worked.  We went to Las Vegas for a few days and spent some time away just to escape the sadness of the last couple weeks.  Life was going to get back to normal and then we would decide what to do next.

On Sunday April 15, 2007 - I went to church for the first time in a while.  My parents had started going to a church in Mission Hills with a female priest and I thought it was awesome.  They were out of town in Sacramento as my youngest niece had just been born a few days earlier.  I sat down next to one of their friends and as the service was about to start, I felt the worst pain I have ever felt.

I was not sure what it was but I knew something was wrong. I told their friend that I was leaving and literally hobbled out of church.  I made it as far as the hallway and into the bathroom.

When I had been discharged weeks prior, they had told me -- if you have fever, chills, abdominal pain etc...take it seriously. 

I had all three.

I had been feeling fine for a few weeks so this sudden turnaround was scary.

I had left my cell phone in the car but wanted to call Matt right away and ask him what I should do.

I could barely walk to my car but had to in order to get my phone.

I was wearing a dress and heels and I remember kicking my shoes off so at least I could hobble a little faster to my car.

I called Matt and then my mom and they both said -- drive to the hospital now. 

Thankfully, the church was only blocks from the hospital and I walked into the emergency room barefoot in a church dress, trying to remain calm.  I was not as calm after the admitting staff took one look at me and buzzed me through to a different waiting area right away.

The minute I said "ectopic pregnancy", they sprang into action.

Matt arrived and a quick sonogram and consultation followed.  Before I knew it, I was signing papers to have surgery again, his parents were on their way and they were soon wheeling me off to the OR.

I did not even really have much time to process what was happening.  What I did know is that me being so close to the hospital and not hesitating to go there were two very lucky and smart decisions.

I woke up later that night hooked up to a bunch of stuff with Matt laying in the hospital bed next to mine.  I looked down and what looked like a crazy, crooked metal zipper was across my bikini line.
Staples -- I would find out later -- but I was too drugged up at this point to know that.
All I remember doing is shutting my eyes, letting the tears come, and falling back to sleep.

Monday April 16, 2007

I woke up the next morning and got to hear the whole story -- ruptured fallopian tube, internal bleeding, lucky she came when she did....

Matt was there by my side and we spent the day in my hospital room, watching TV and just holding hands.  So surreal.

As we watched TV, the news of the Virginia Tech shootings came on and we watched in horror as they reported 33 dead. 

Even though I was laying there, preoccupied by my own sadness and loss -- two words hit me right away:  still alive.

I am still alive. 

These 2 words come to mind on a daily basis still, 7 years later.  Any time I have something to complain about, anything that is bothering me, anything making me unhappy -- I try to take a deep breath and think "still alive". 

No matter what I have gone through, what I have lost, what sadness I have experienced - I am alive and that is the gift.

Matt by my side, friends who called or visited me, all of the people who supported us for the next few weeks that I was off of work -- I was still alive to share my life with them.

A profound and life changing moment -- in a hospital bed, still alive.

What a tough time those next few weeks were for us but we were sustained by the love of our incredible family and friends.  My doctor (the one who did the sonogram) even came to the hospital one morning and sat with me.  All of Costco arrived in our kitchen the morning I came home.
My mother came over and laid in bed with me a few times like I was still a little kid. I loved it.

Vince brought me a card that said: When life gives you lemons, just add vodka.

Cupcakes and flowers and phone calls. Matt's work gave him a week off to take care of me. 
So many amazing people took care of me and Matt during this time.

But I kept going back to those two words -- still alive.

I had a choice to make -- lay in bed for weeks in my pj's eating grilled cheese, candy, and drinking fruit punch juice boxes (true story) or get up and get back to being alive.  Being fully alive.

Enjoying life on a whole new level -- because I can, because I should, because I am alive to do it.

Nothing seemed more important to me than to use the gift I still had -- life -- and make it matter.
Live it with a purpose and make it mean something.

This awful, sad, scary experience could either define my life or transform it.

Still alive.

Still alive to be transformed, to be open to life, to say yes, to be positive, to be hopeful, to love.

Still alive.

Light out of the darkness, life out of loss, hope out of despair.

Still alive.

And grateful for that.

Thanks for following....
xo
Margaret