15th June 2023:
It's 2.22am and I am lying in the hospital bed.
I am having an ectopic pregnancy (wherein my fertilised egg implants in my fallopian tube, not uterus so there is no chance of survival). I was sensitive to my body so I only managed to fully celebrate my long-awaited 2nd pregnancy for 2 days before I had some semblance of what was happening.
Momentarily I questioned God but after grieving somewhat satisfactorily, I was able to cling onto the characters of God and acknowledged that God allowed this to happen to me for a reason. I may not understand why, but He promised to go through this with me. During this season, I kept contemplating the story of Job - how he endured and it gave me a lot of strength. I always find it fascinating how he could say, "... Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?" More than that, my preacher reminded me how much it pains God to give and take away from me.
In summary, I had a dose of methotrexate administered. I wasn't really responding according to expectations but I was healthy and asymptomatic. And suddenly, I was having acute pain (Day 8) and given painkillers. Scans showed that I had fluids where it shouldn't be so I am up for observation and more blood tests and scans.
Equally traumatic was having Mendell wean off (from breastmilk) due to this failed pregnancy (every child takes their time to wean off but I was already making some attempts prior).
I'm documenting this because this child exist(ed) and remembering seasons of grief is part of who we are.
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