So last month I found out I was pregnant. I wasn't trying to get pregnant. On the contrary, I had an IUD that had been working just fine since it was installed over two years ago. In fact, it was the IUD that I initially blamed for the missed period, since in the past I'd often either bled like a stuck pig or barely experienced anything at all during "that time," completely missing a period wasn't outside of the realm of IUD side effects. But when two weeks came and went and still nothing had happened, yet I had all the classic symptoms indicating that something should have been happening, I began to get suspicious. And worried.

One evening I just couldn't handle it anymore and I sent Donald to the store to get a pregnancy test. Naturally he got the least expensive one they had (not that they had much to choose from at Lowes Food, which is definitely NOT the place to go for such things). So when the little indicator window flashed the telltale '+' sign, I immediately blamed it on poor test quality and promptly sent him out for a "better" (i.e. one that would not result in a '+') brand. This time he came back with one of those fancy EPT tests that either say 'pregnant' or 'not pregnant' so that you don't have to get all bent out of shape wondering if the '+' is really a '+' and not just a '-' inside a poorly manufactured testing stick.

Of course, the EPT said, with no hesitation, 'pregnant.'

I spent that evening in tears. Panicking.

What would I do? My life as I knew it was going to end! My career was over! My children would hate me! And of course, the ultimate of horrors, I was going to get FAT(ter)!!

Fortunately things looked not so bleak the next morning when I rushed out the doctor's to confirm the findings. By that point, I was had almost reconciled myself to the idea. I was almost, sort of, kinda happy.

But my happiness was not long lasting.

The pregnancy was ectopic.

Another common "side effect" of having an IUD.

To make a long story somewhat short, I was ultrasounded (to create a verb) twice, given a shot of a chemotherapy drug, and instructed to give blood once every few days to ensure that my hCG levels were going down. But my hCG levels didn't go down, they went up, and on the day I was supposed to go to the doc's for another shot I experienced excruciating (or ecruciating, as mGma would say) pain accompanied by bleeding. Not good. Instead of having a second shot I ended up in the ER at Rex, where I was later admitted and prepped for surgery.

I was only there two days, but it seems like so much longer thinking back on it. Surgery, no matter what kind, is no fun. I always, without fail, get sick from the anethesia. And did I mention this all happened on December 21st? Yep, four days before Christmas. Not that there's ever a "good" time to have surgery, but the week before Christmas is a really, really bad time.

So. . .

No more pregnancy.

At least not then.

But the saga continues. . .