Part 2: When Seeing That Blue Line Isn’t The Pregnancy You Wanted

So far, my entire world has crumbled around me. If you don’t know why head on back to the start of the story.

I feel numb, scared, confused, and I don’t know where to turn or what to do. I want to be happy because I have always wanted baby number 3, but not like this. Not now. Not with Beard struggling to come to terms with it. He won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me about the situation we’ve been thrown into. I know he isn’t cross with me. I know he’s worried. Then I look at him; he’s not worried at all, he’s terrified.

So many questions. How the feck can I be pregnant when I have the coil? HOW?! I then make the worse decision ever and look it up on the internet and am bombarded with horror stories of ectopic pregnancies, deformities, death of the mother, diseases, infections. Oh. My. Goodness. Why has this happened to us when we were so happy. Maybe this is my fault.

I make the shaky call to the doctor for an appointment and the receptionist (who I believe is related to Satan) answers in a completely unprofessional manner, treats me like dirt and informs me my request to see a doctor is not urgent therefore the earliest appointment she can offer is the end of next week. I briefly, but abruptly inform her that she’s not a doctor, nor does she have the status to provide her medical expertise to me. I finish the conversation by rudely instructing her to shove her appointment up her backside, and BANG! Down goes the phone. Utterly childish and regrettable but at least I was in control of one situation.

I decide to go straight to the PRUH because now I am panicking. Whoever said the NHS is terrible needs to come to Princess Royal University Hospital, Farnborough. As always, I was seen within 15 minutes and was greeted by an outstanding doctor who not only cared about my wellbeing physically but was extremely sincere when listening to everything going on at home. After an examination, she confirms my worst fear; the coil has miraculously disappeared. She looks worried, apprehensive, and refers me to the Early Pregnancy Unit for an emergency scan.

It’s funny how, after having children, you lose all inhibitions. While you lay on a very uncomfortable bed, legs swinging in the air and a charming lady with a large foreign object shoved up your noo-noo while four student doctors look on in bemusement with a note pad.

I can’t believe it, today of all days. I haven’t shaved my legs.

Despite that, she scans away, nods and shakes her head, puts her head to one side, purses her lips, says things that make no sense to me to which the audience responds with “uh-huh” and scribble down more notes. For what seems like an eternity, she then says, “you have fantastic fallopian tubes, Leanne. Students, take note of a perfect cervix – look at that beautiful shape.” I can honestly say that I have never received a compliment like that before. I’ll take it, though.

However, I imagine that’s the only compliment. As I lay there, hairy legs up in the air, on full display to everyone, in all their glory and then something worse happens. I get the distinct smell of my… feet. Not only have I forgotten to shave, but I have put on my running trainers in a rush this morning. Consequently, now all the medical staff are leaning in closer to observe my marvellous reproductive organs on the screen, and are faced with a forest on my legs and the smell of a rotting carcass coming from my feet. How utterly charming, they must think I am a complete minger who has no idea who the father is.


The first scan looks like an Alien invasion…

After the sinking feeling of embarrassment subsides, the realisation that I am actually pregnant sinks in and I put my kegs on quick. The doctor was again fantastic and talked me through the pros and cons of becoming pregnant while having the coil. I can’t even begin to be excited yet, there is so much that can be wrong, but the main thing is the gestational sac is in the right place, and there was no chance of an ectopic pregnancy or the coil being present (and visible) and causing a problem. Thank goodness. Is that a good thing or a bad thing though? Where is it!?

To be on the safe side, I need to go back again Tuesday and Thursday for a rescan as it’s quite common for the fetus to stop growing between 4 and 5 weeks due to the hormone an IUD releases. If the pregnancy progresses, there is also a chance the coil may be in an area that can’t be viewed right now but next week it may all of a sudden show up on the scan; I’m far more confused and scared than ever, and all I want is Beard with me.
Being pregnant should be something you share with your partner. Something that you plan and enjoy together, and I have never felt more alone and pushed away than I do right now. I can’t even speak to any friends, because the truth is, I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know how I feel.

As soon as I walk out of the hospital, I’ve missed five calls from Beard and he has text three times; at least it shows he cares. I call him straight back and tell him the news; he’s relieved I’m ok and ends the conversation with “love you” – the words hang in the air until they burst when I hear just how upset he is when he says “we just can’t go through with this pregnancy”.

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