I sat with three consultants to go through the next stages. I was given two options. There’s the medical route, which involves taking a tablet that allows the foetus to pass through naturally – the other option was surgery to remove the foetus and my right fallopian tube. I didn’t initially want the surgery, as it would be so invasive and I felt I’d lose a part of me.
According to the NHS, an ectopic pregnancy is “when a fertilised egg implants itself outside of the womb, usually in one of the fallopian tubes”. It adds: “If an egg gets stuck in them, it won’t develop into a baby and your health may be at risk if the pregnancy continues. Unfortunately, it’s not possible to save the pregnancy. It usually has to be removed using medicine or an operation.”
In my case, I was told to wait. I was sent home that day, and had another blood test the following morning to see if my HCG levels were lowering (indicating my body was naturally flowing the foetus through). But they didn’t lower – and I started to experience extremely heavy bleeding, soaking through numerous sanitary towels. Another scan showed that my fallopian tube had started to rupture, with internal bleeding in my stomach – and a life-saving operation was my only option.
I went straight into emergency surgery, with my boyfriend and mum right by my side when I woke. I lost my right fallopian tube during the procedure, but was lucky enough to keep both ovaries – meaning as usual they take it in turns to release an egg but only go through one fallopian tube instead. I still have a 60-80% chance of a healthy pregnancy again one day. Luckily, from that day, my period has been on time ever since, despite my PCOS.
I didn’t think I’d be one of the one in 90 pregnancies that become ectopic in the UK, but sadly I was. When I look back, I wish I knew the signs more clearly – but ectopic pregnancy is notoriously hard to spot, since the symptoms often seem like those of a normal early pregnancy.
At the age of 23, an ectopic pregnancy wasn’t even something I’d heard of before. Now, I’m so glad that my instinct told me that something wasn’t right, and I sought out another opinion.
February 7th 2024 would have been my due date. I never thought my experience of ectopic pregnancy would have affected me as much as it did. Even though the pregnancy wasn’t planned, I still missed something I never had.
Signing a few legal documents before surgery meant I agreed that the hospital would cremate their remains, scattering the ashes in their garden amongst all their flowers. Now, each time I look down at the three little scars on my tummy, it means a part of my nine-week-old baby’s self will always be a part of me.
If you have questions about ectopic pregnancies, speak to your GP. For baby loss support, visit tommys.org.