Four months ago, I was waking up from surgery, I can still remember how I struggled to open my eyes and how when I finally did I cried, and crying hurt. It was incredible pain, nothing like I’d ever felt before – even in child birth – pain which was like someone was stabbing me with every breath. The crying provoked an odd response from a nurse who said “Why are you crying?” loudly while standing to the side of my bed, and my shaky reply was “I don’t know…” she was shushed by another member of the team, one with slightly more tact. Of course, I knew why I was crying, but I felt vulnerable laying there and wasn’t prepared to explain that my tears were due to losing a baby and yet surviving myself. Internal bleeding caused by a burst fallopian tube, a tiny baby who we’d been so excited about conceiving and the very thing which nearly killed me. I felt a mix of pain, heart ache, annoyance (yes I was annoyed that I was stuck in hospital when I should have been at Britmums, selfish? probably). I remember getting a huge dose of morphine, and it made everything go away, the pain, the thoughts, general conciousness.. Yes, I was totally out of it, and struggled to string a sentence together before drifting off to sleep. When Mr G came to visit, I have no idea what I said or did, but I remember I kept saying sorry that I’d fallen asleep, and I remember him holding my hand while I lay feeling relieved to be back on the curtained comfort of my hospital bed. When I woke up and started to come round from my drug induced state of numbness, I made the decision to try to avoid any further pain relief, I needed to feel the pain, and I needed to deal with the emotional turmoil. Whether it was a good choice, who knows, but it was the right choice for me, and I began the journey back to normality.
I’m sat typing and holding back tears, it feels like a lifetime ago, that someone else went through the pain and fear, yet that emotional pain is still raw and real. I found the list I’d written just in case something “bad” happened, and honestly I wonder why Mr G would need to know or even care about the shopping voucher I’d stashed away for Christmas, or that Boo needs change for snack each break time, but in the hours before I went to surgery, I had written a list of everything I’d not told him, somehow I felt calmer being wheeled along on a trolley in the knowledge that he had a list.
I have struggled the last few months, really struggled mentally to come to terms with the surgery and even to look at the scars. “Friends” who have said “well you have two children and now you’ve had surgery that sort of finishes it doesn’t it..” are not really friends, yes I have one less fallopian tube, but I still have one and having two children doesn’t make things easier, I’m still allowed to grieve! There was no apparent reason for the ectopic, no infection, no deformed tube, it was just..unfortunate. “Friends” who have asked me how I am, knowing I would normally reply “I’m ok..” were shocked when I replied “Actually, I am struggling, really struggling..” some became true friends, standing shoulder to shoulder to help, while others suddenly were “busy” or didn’t want to talk about it as it made them sad. Writing that, actually made me smile, as for the first time in my life, I really know who my friends are, and it’s quite a nice feeling. I have good days and bad days, and I’m looking forward, forward to trying again, even though the thought of it feels me with fear of all the “what ifs”.. watch this space.