18 months ago, 6 weeks after the birth of my 4th child, I had myself sterilized with the Essure procedure. 3 months later, I had the dye study to make sure it had been successful. Sure enough, not a wisp of dye could be seen going up the tubes on either side.
A week ago, my period didn’t come. I’m still nursing my toddler; that’s getting painful to the point of ‘my god what’s going on here’. So, I took a home test on about the 6th. Negative. Today, I went in for what I figured would be a blood test - got to rule everything out, always like to know the cause of pain, etc. You know. So they had me do the urine test first, and in comes my doctor, hiding her face behind my chart. I wish I had a video of the expression on her face. Rueful. Shaking her head. No.
“No what,” I said. “No, nothing?”
“No,” she says, “Not negative. A good, solid positive.”
Oh, my god.
So clearly, one of my husband’s extremely vigorous little swimmers was able to get UP the tube, which 18 months ago was blocked so that fluid couldn’t get up it at all. But can the egg get DOWN? Nobody knows. There have been no documented pregnancies following the Essure procedure. Nobody knows what will happen. Nobody, in fact, knows what the risks are to continue an intrauterine pregnancy with the Essure implants still in the tubes. If it’s even IN the uterus. I don’t have an ultrasound scheduled until Tuesday.
Ectopic pregnancy is a significant cause of maternal death in the United States. I’m under orders to go the ER immediately if I have any sharp pains in my abdomen between now and Tuesday.
Damn. Insert extensive list of vile epithets here.
Well, if it’s intrauterine, we won’t sent it back. We’ll grit our teeth and go through the 9 months of hell, because we think the alternative is a pretty rotten thing to do. If that’s the case, I expect 3 months of bedrest, and possibly some hospitalization, but a good outcome. And then I think I’ll have my uterus ripped out by the roots, and the ground around it salted, napalmed, and Roundupped.
If it isn’t…I guess we’ll have the surgery to protect my health, and wish the little critter better luck next time, finding a more hospitable home. And THEN I will have my uterus ripped out by the roots.
Dangit.