Hi there, my name is Chynna Terwilliger and this is my story. For context, I started taking birth control (the pill) in December of 2010 when I was fifteen to help with my menstrual cycles. Fast forward to June 2017, I was diagnosed with Factor V Leiden which is a blood-clotting disorder that I inherited from my dad (who inherited it from my grandma). This meant that I need to stop taking the pill immediately, as it increases the chance of having a blood clot, but I wasn’t ready to “quit cold turkey”. So, I asked my OBGYN what my options were and I had the Nexplanon implant inserted about a week later.
Fast forward to April 2022, my husband and I got married, and in May 2022 I had the implant removed (after almost five years — yes it was still effective). Now all of the research I did said that if we weren’t ready to try, that we should be using other forms of contraceptives because you can be fertile almost immediately. Well, I didn’t necessarily believe that, but my husband and I decided to start officially trying in August 2022 after I had had at least two normal cycles.
Little did we know that the first cycle of trying would be all that my body needed. On September 14th, I took a HPT first thing in the morning, and sure enough it was positive. Of course, I took about half a dozen more because I didn’t believe it, but they were all positive. My husband had only seen the first one so I decided to surprise him when he got home from work with the other tests and a brand new pair of baby Stranger Things Vans. We were excited and already loved our baby.
Over the next couple of days, my symptoms became stronger, and we slowly told those closest to us that we were expecting (my parents, his mom, our siblings, etc). While everyone was thrilled and excited (especially his mom, who has been asking for a baby since we first started dating), an unsuspecting family member (I won’t disclose who) said something that would end up haunting me even still. They said, “I won’t be buying anything until that baby is born”.
I met with my therapist on September 21st to tell him the news and share what this family member had said. We walked through the emotions I was going through and discussed how set myself up for a successful pregnancy mentally. That night, I couldn’t sleep, and I had severe cramping up and down my legs. Like growing pains x100.
The morning of September 22, I woke up and the cramping had stopped, but I started bleeding. No brown, not light pink, but bright red. I immediately started to panic, texted my husband who was at work that I thought something was wrong, and I called the advice nurse. I told the nurse that I was bleeding and was about 5.5 weeks at that point. My first appointment would be for another 2 weeks, and there were also concerns of a blood clot, so they wanted me to come in immediately.
I was scheduled for an appointment that afternoon. As I sat in the waiting room, slowly being surrounded by other women who were well along in their pregnancies, I felt helpless. When my name was called, I was asked to provide a urine sample for a pregnancy test (came back positive). That gave me some hope. Then the doctor came in, not my usual doctor, but she was kind and I appreciated her. She proceeded with a transvaginal ultrasound and showed me the screen.
There was no sac, no embryo, nothing. She said that it’s still normal to not see anything this early, but that she wanted to run additional tests and have me seen by radiology (better technology was her explanation). I went and had my blood drawn for bHCG and sat in radiology for two hours before they could see me (it was shared with their ED). While I was waiting, my bHCG levels came back, they were 181. Doctor explained that this number means nothing until I do repeat test in 48 hours.
I couldn’t see the screen in radiology, but I had a sinking feeling. Even though everyone kept saying that this could be normal, that we don’t know until I retest in two days, and not to worry, I knew. I didn’t want to know, but I knew. I kept my husband updated throughout this day and when I came home, I made dinner for him and his mom like nothing was going on. Because nothing was going on, at least not yet, we didn’t know.
My husband had a trip planned that weekend with his buddies that they do every year. He was going to stay, but I told him to go. There wasn’t any reason to stay, yet. Sunday morning, I went in for more blood work, and went to Target afterwards. The bleeding had stopped so I thought maybe things would be okay. I walked around looking at things I didn’t need to distract from the unknown. When I got back to my car, I had a notification stating my results were in. 181.
I couldn’t breakdown in a Target parking lot, I had to make it home. As soon as I walked through my front door, I dropped. I screamed and cried and my dogs were just as lost as I felt. The one person I wanted, needed, was in a different city, in a different state, and I was alone. He wouldn’t be returning for another two days and changing his flight would be a mess. I told him to stay, enjoy his weekend, but he was just as miserable.
Monday, September 26th, the cramping and bleeding came back full force. I put on my period underwear and went to work (never was I more thankful to be working from home and for the camera off option on Zoom). I was training two new hires and told them what was happening because I would be in and out of meetings with them all day. They cried, said they were sorry, and asked if there was anything they could do, and we got to work.
I messaged my doctor to let her know what symptoms had come back. She confirmed that this pregnancy was not viable, and shared that she has concerns of this being an ectopic pregnancy since there was no confirmation of a gestational sac and my levels remained exactly the same. She said to if I felt anything new or if my symptoms got worse, to call the advice nurse, but that we could be looking at treating this pregnancy with methotrexate to be on the safe side.
I asked if we needed to do that now or if I could let my body try and pass things on it’s own. She said she would give me 48 hours for another retest and those numbers would decide our next step. My head started hurting, which was nothing new for me, and she said that was normal. The cramping got worse, but again that was normal. I worked the whole day all while slowing losing my baby. Around 5pm, the bleeding got worse and I was going through my pads and diapers quickly.
I called the advice nurse, who spoke to the on call doctor, who told me to come to the ED immediately. My husband was still out of town, so I texted my parents. Within 10 minutes, my dad was at my front door ready to take me. My dad had been my “ER partner” since I was 2 when I needed stitches for the first time (after he slammed my forehead in a van door, but that’s a story for another time). We drove mostly in silence but we still joked and made little comments like we normally would.
There was a sign outside that said no visitors allowed so my dad waited outside. I checked myself in while he called my husband to walk him through how to get his flight changed for free to come home. I sat in the waiting room for what felt like forever and was finally called back. They wouldn’t give me anything for the pain until they ran tests. Fine. They brought me back, took my blood, sent me to radiology, and sat me back in the waiting room. I got a notification and my levels were 187.
They called me back, explained that nothing had changed from a few days ago, and that there wasn’t much they could do. I was still in pain and asked if they could give me anything. They said yes but they had to wait until another room opened up. Back to the waiting room. Then my doctor from a few days prior, who happened to be on call in the ED, came to get me from the waiting room. She explained that she wanted to administer the methotrexate that night instead of waiting.
I agreed and asked for something for the pain again. She said of course, that she would put an order in while she put the order in for methotrexate. I updated my dad with the plan as I sat in the waiting room for the third time and he said my husband was on a flight home as we spoke. Fucking (sorry for the language) finally. The person I needed would be here soon and I would be able to breath a little easier. An hour later, still in the waiting room, and still no pain relief.
A nurse called me back and the room he had for me was now occupied by a woman who came in with symptoms of a stroke. Yes give her that room, she certainly needs it more than me. He found another room and I sat on the edge of the bed. Another nurse came in told me to lay back and relax. Nope, can’t do that. She left and the seconds hand on the clock on the wall was delayed by 5 seconds. Annoying and distracting, which was a good thing.
I saw a sign that said adults could have one visitor with them. Why did no one tell me that? I could have had had company this whole time? My nurse came back, asked some questions, and left. No pain relief. After being in the ED for 4 hours, my husband shows up and he couldn’t have come at a better time. The doctor and her resident came in, gloves-a-blazing, and asked me to lower my pants so that the top of my butt was exposed. My husband would now see his favorite body part stabbed with needles. Lovely.
The methotrexate was separated into two syringes, yay! First injection into my left butt check, second into my right. Big bands the size of the palm of my head placed on each site. I was directed to sit for about 20 minutes to make sure I didn’t have any reactions and I told my dad he could leave if he wanted to. That was the first time he would leave the ER without me in the car with him. We wouldn’t get Carl’s Jr. like we always had (it was our weird tradition).
Nothing happened, so I was released to go home. I was hungry, and so was my husband, so we stopped for food before getting home to our pups. We didn’t talk about what had just happened, and I really didn’t want to. I wanted to eat, get into pajamas, and sleep. I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to go anywhere.
I told my job I would not be clocking in for the rest of the week. They understand and my team covered my clients without knowing why. My husband called out from work and stayed home with me. I cramped, I bled, I slept, I cried, I threw up, I walked around in my period diapers like they were the most comfortable thing ever (they were at the time). I had to retest my levels 4 days later and then again on day 7.
My numbers weren’t dropping like they were supposed to (0.4% off from the expected number) which meant I needed another round of methotrexate. Wonderful. Went in for the second dosing and wanted to scream. Not just because I was still actively losing my baby, but the second round hurt more. The two nurses injected my butt checks at the same time thinking it would hurt less. Nope. The drive home was excruciating and I was grateful for my mom who offered to take me.
The next blood draw was my birthday a week later. I didn’t want to celebrate or do anything, but my husband and SIL planned what would turn out to be an amazing experience. I got to feed baby sloths and otters. My heart wanted to explode and my niece and nephew were grinning from ear to ear looking at all the different animals. I got a notification, my levels dropped substantially, but still not 0.
A week later, another blood draw. The phlebotomist who took my blood said happy birthday and asked if congratulations were in order (she knew it was for HCG, but nothing more). I said if she had asked me a month ago, that would have been the case. An hour later, even closer to 0. The cramping and bleeding had ceased, but the number of clots I watched be flushed will never leave my mind.
Another two rounds of blood draws over the course of two weeks, my levels were 0. I was no longer pregnant, in the technical sense. Literally, I hadn’t been for weeks, but now it was officially over. That chapter of our life was closed.
I replayed the short weeks leading up to and during my pregnancy over and over again in my head. Was it my caffeine intake? I went from having 2-3 full caffeine cups of coffee a day to 1 decaf cup a day. Did I not drink enough water? My water intake went from what I got mixed with my bean juice to at least one gallon a day. What about that one tiny sip of vodka I had before even knowing I was pregnant? Is that what did this?
That is what hurts the most, not knowing the “why?” or even the “what did it?” Why was there no sac, no embryo? Why did my levels not double? What did I do to lose this baby? Everyone kept telling me, and still tells me, that it’s nothing I did. There was nothing I did wrong or that I could have done differently. I don’t want to believe that and I can’t believe that, but I have to. Maybe not today, next week, or even a year from now.
All I know is that May 22nd, what would have been my due date, is coming quicker than I thought it would. I keep calculating how far along I’d be and what my sonogram would have looked like. If it was a boy or a girl (my husband thinks it was a girl, but my cravings said otherwise if you believe in “wive’s tales”).
What has helped me, even just a little bit, is knowing that I’m not alone. Knowing that these feelings, these thoughts and emotions, are not uncommon. In fact, they’re more common than I expected, and I’m slowly finding other women who have gone through this horribly painful experience just as I did/am. I never once thought I’d be part of the 1 in 4, and I’m sure those reading this thought the same, but here we are.
Know you are loved, know you are not alone.