I walked up and told them my name and they sent me to wait in a chair. I kept thinking to myself, “there is a baby inside of me growing and we are about to terminate it.” It made me sick to my stomach. They brought me to a chair, took my temperature, and blood pressure. I wanted to tell them what was happening but she didn’t seem interested. I’m also not sure why I wanted to tell this stranger who was just there to check my vitals. Someone came over to me a super kind woman and said "are you Arielle Charnas?" I said yes. She said come with me.
I began to follow her through the halls and she turned back and said “I love your bag!! I’m going to get myself a bag like that when I have time to go out for dinners again.” We laughed. As we were walking through the double doors, 3 policemen walked past us holding the arms of a young guy with long brown hair who was not well. They were holding him up and he was struggling for them to let him go. My heart began to race.
We went through another set of doors and into the emergency room with a ton of different rooms with glass doors. As I followed her to my room, I saw so many men in these rooms with oxygen masks, sleeping. I walked into my room and sat down in a chair. A doctor walked in and introduced himself. I forget his name. He basically gave me the rundown of what was going to happen. He said "what you’re experiencing is an ectopic pregnancy, it’s common, we see it often. We are going to administer an injection called methotrexate which will end the pregnancy. First, we need to take 11 vials of blood and make sure your liver is functioning properly." I was terrified. I didn't know what this drug was, but I refused to Google it and scare myself. He immediately said, "don’t Google it." He said "well, we had to order it from our cancer center because it’s a form of chemotherapy. Basically, it prevents the cells in your body from doubling. It can make you nauseous but we are giving such a small dose when it comes to ectopics that you shouldn’t feel many side effects." I said "is there any way my husband can come in here? I’m really scared."
He said “I will make it happen.”
I texted Brandon to tell him this doctor was going to come and get him. Within 10 minutes, Brandon came in. I was so happy to see him. I was so scared to be in there alone. I was scared for what was about to happen. I was about to terminate something trying to survive inside of me. It’s one thing to have a miscarriage, your body knows what to do and stops the baby from growing and surviving. With an ectopic, my baby was trying so hard to survive and grow and have a chance at life, but it just was in the wrong place.
They came in and took my blood and put an IV in me. I got into the bed and I was cold–I was very cold. I had the shakes. I asked Brandon to see if they had apple juice or any sort of sugar because I felt mine dropping out of fear. I called my acupuncturist. She told me to get off the phone and talk to my baby–to "say goodbye to him and tell him you’ll always love him and you’ll always be his mother." I closed my eyes and I pictured him on the right side. I put my hand over my right side and said all of those things to the baby. The second, LITERALLY the second I finished saying things to him, they opened the door with the injections in hand.
"Hi Arielle, we received the injection and we can begin when you’re ready." I stood up and they told me to turn around and pull my pants down. They told me they would be giving me two injections into my muscles above my butt on each side. I closed my eyes and envisioned my baby inside of me. This baby has no idea what’s about to happen, it has no idea that even though it’s trying so hard to be with me Brandon, Ruby, and Esme I’m about to take that opportunity away from him. I cried. She injected me on both sides and told me to lay down. I had to wait in there for a while to make sure I was reacting okay to the drug.
When they let me go, they had Brandon hold me walking out. I was exhausted and I was depleted. He took me home to his parents' apartment since they’re close to the hospital and I got into the shower. When I came out, I got into bed and closed my eyes and went to sleep. At 3 a.m., I was woken up by SEVERE cramping in my uterus. I was screaming from the pain. I called Nancy and she gave me two Tylenol and made me walk up and down. She thought by moving around it would help the cramping. It didn’t. I got back in bed with a heating pad and called my doctor's emergency line. She told me that if I’m able to talk to her on the phone it’s not dangerous and that it is my uterus contracting and getting rid of the baby. I hated this so much. I hated what I was doing, I hated what was happening, I hated hearing that, and knowing that was what was happening. I went to the bathroom and I had an incredibly heavy period. I’ll spare you the details.
Two days later, I had to go back to the hospital for bloodwork to check to see that my numbers were going down. They did.
I had to wait two more days to check to see if they went down even more. I told my doctor "it’s Esme's birthday tomorrow and I really want to be there for it." She had me back in the hospital for the bloodwork and since it went down the two days before she felt I was on a safe path. She called me the night before Esme’s birthday while I was back out in the Hamptons and told me that they went down even more and my body was very receptive to the drug. I was able to spend Esme's birthday with my family.
A week later I had to go back in to make sure my HCG and progesterone went down to 0 because that would mean there is no baby left at all. It did. I was at 0. I felt empty. I didn’t want to speak to anyone during this time. I was angry and sad. I was mourning. I threw out all of my ovulation kits and I deleted all of my photos during the time I knew I was pregnant.
I slowly began to feel okay again. I normally share things with my community but this has been a very dark time on social media and I was afraid and also didn’t want to take away from an important conversation going on by sharing a traumatic experience about myself. A few weeks later, I felt more comfortable in my private community to share and so I did. It felt good. It felt good to talk about it and to open up. It felt good to know I wasn’t alone and I was lucky that I caught it early.
Now I’m four months out and hopeful for a future pregnancy when the time is right. I’m hopeful that I will be able to make sense of it at some point later down the line. But for right now, I feel as though I lost a part of my heart and soul but I still feel connected to “it” somehow. I think about that baby sometimes at night and pray I meet him one day. To anyone out there going through a pregnancy loss, it’s not your fault, you’re not alone. Thank you for reading my story <3.