So, I knew I was pregnant. Positive pregnancy test and everything.
Happiness. excitement. etc.
Then. I got my period. so miscarriage, right?
and oh my god 10 days of .
acceptance, decsion to get the hubby a V and adopt.
but wait, there’s more.
Turns out I got pregnant in the “stump” (dr’s word, hand to god) of the fallopian tube they removed last year. And it was close to the uterus, so when it blew, it ruptured that as well.
So emergency surgery. Internal bleeding.
Misdirection, because they were convinced it had to be the OTHER side, because who the hell has a fallopian pregnancy in a tube that’s been removed?!?
Why I do, of course.
So two trips to the OR and three days of morphine drip in the hospital later I am sent home with vicodin and the reassurance that I can of course try again.
“Sure you can, still one good set still in tact and functioning.”
And so as I sit nursing 16 staples, three stitched up wounds from the failed laproscopy, and a 6-8 inch incision, I gotta tell you that there is no way in hell. none.
or happiness with two.
Those are my only options.
And the best part?
They are both wonderful choices. Seriously.
I am no fool. I know how lucky I am.
So life is not all bad.
And I haven’t even had a pill yet today.
Thanks for the good wishes, they are truly appreciated. I will return to work and normal programming next week, promise. This week I am just wallowing.
I feel I’ve earned it.