So it's June - here's your update (it's a doozy)

I have this boyfriend. I like him a whole bunch. He's smart, funny, kind, cute and has this super sperm.

Wait...what?

Yes. My boyfriend has Super Sperm. Trust me. It has to be super because it navigated that overgrown den of death called by lady bits and managed to knock me up.

Of course my lady bits were having none of it so my uterus promptly said "uh no -don't you drag that thing in here" and my tubes, the waste land of scar tissue that they are said "no worries we couldn't if we wanted to". And the rest of me said, "fuck it, she's 36 and smokes like a chimney, is 30 lbs (the rest of me is kind) overweight, this is not going to end well".

So ignoring the pains that I had almost immediately upon the pregnancy test coming back positive and the lacksidaisicle attitude of my OB/GYN "Oh, it's you Ms. Fibriods, Cysts and PCOS? We'll see you in week 9." I ended up in the ER at 6 weeks 4 days with an Ectopic pregnancy.

At first the ER treated me kind of like I was 1950's housewife with a hysterical pregnancy. I had no blood work done prior to coming in - just some pain and a knowledge that something wasn't right. They took my blood and sent me off to Ultra Sound where the tech asked me twice if I was sure I was pregnant. Ummm....yeah 5 tests worth of sure. Several times the attending Doctor in the ER told me it was highly unlikely I would have gotten 5 false positives. I felt kind of like a liar. I was actually starting to question if I really was pregnant. It wasn't until my blood work came back with an HCG level of 3000 that my pregnancy was believed. And once they got the on duty Gynecologist down there, I was in good hands.

She did a D&C on my uterus to see if the tissue in it was pregnancy (it wasn't). The ultrasound was read by the radiologist who found the sac in my ovary. After some discussion it was decided the best way to treat it was with a shot of Methotrexate.

Methotrexate is the devil.

The ER doctor (who seriously was a peach - I wish she practiced here, she would be my doctor) said she would give me this shot and it would stop the cells from growing. That I would probably bleed in a few days. My hormone level with increase by Monday and decrease afterwards. The best instructions she gave me were: No Sex. No Sun. No Vitamins. No Motrin.

So I got the shot. I went home. I was a little sick on Saturday. A little sick on Sunday and then Monday all hell broke loose. I went to get my hormone levels checked on Monday and they were over 6000. I started to cramp and bleed on Monday night. And cramp and bleed. And then on Tuesday and Wednesday I was a sobbing mess in addition to cramping and bleeding. On Thursday I got my blood checked again and my HCG level was 583. So that explained the crying jag I had been on. I continue to cramp and bleed and feel crummy. Methotrexate has managed to completely fuck up my health. I can't drink either (something I figured out when using Dr. Google to diagnose my condition) so I am super grumpy.

The best part about the entire hospital visit was when I got the shot. Methotrexate is a Chemo drug so the Doctor had to put on all this gear to administer the shot. The whole time I was thinking "why does she have to wear all that stuff to get the shot together but it can get jammed in my butt cheek with no precautions?"

As I laid on my side waiting for her to needle me, I faced my boyfriend who said simply "That's a big needle. It looks like a straw". You're not helping, honey.

I'm better than I was. I'm lucky. Nothing ruptured. I will live to fight another day. I can not imagine the torture and horror this would be if I had been trying to get pregnant. My heart goes out to all the women on the fertility message boards I have been perusing. Their information has provided me with a whole lot of knowledge my doctor didn't give me.

I'm also lucky because my boyfriend has been amazing through this. He didn't freak out when I found out I was knocked up. He was supportive and caring. He asked all the right questions at the hospital. He held my hand and found me socks. He listened. He has put up with the amazing mood swings I have been going through. He has listened to me describe the blood flow and cramping well past the point that he should have to. He watched me feel my boobs several times a day trying to decide if things were different. He has sat on the couch and cuddled me. He has been the best.

And the way I'm going to show him how much I appreciate him? Find a doctor to do a vasectomy.