Disclaimer: This patient story has details of opioid use, fertility difficulties, and gas lighting.
My husband and I struggled to get pregnant naturally for years. We were so blessed that after only one round of IVF, we found out we were expecting. The first trimester of my pregnancy was rough, but normal. I had quite a lot of morning sickness, I was tired, I had some food aversions, but overall things were fine.
My second trimester brought some new challenges. I started getting extremely dizzy and fainted a few times, once while I was alone in a store. This was a little bit more scary. My OB/GYN determined that I had extremely low blood pressure and I was instructed to rest often and ensure I always had a safe place to lie down since I could faint at a moment’s notice. Although this wasn’t ideal, I still considered the pregnancy to be fairly normal. I was just so happy to have been pregnant, that I was willing to overlook common symptoms.
Third trimester is where things went bad. One day, when I was 27 weeks pregnant, I started having some cramping. After a few hours I realized the cramps were coming in consistently timed waves. I called my OB’s office and they instructed me to head to the small hospital where I had originally chosen to give birth.
From the time I arrived they began running tests on me. After about 24 hours of testing, I was told that I was having contractions, and that my amniotic fluid was leaking. My OB/GYN was wonderful here. She assured me that babies are born at 27 weeks all the time and survive. She told me that I needed to be transferred immediately to the high-risk unit of a bigger hospital. Within minutes, an ambulance came to bring me to the new hospital, my husband followed closely behind in our car.
This was the scariest thing my husband and I have ever been through. All I could think about was if the baby was going to be okay. All my husband could think about was if the baby and I would be okay.
The moment I arrived at the new hospital, the tone changed. The nurses asked me which tests had been completed already. I explained what had been done, I was told I would have to go through them all over again. These tests were painful and invasive, but I consented because I wanted my baby to be okay. I got the impression that they were unimpressed with the small hospital and did not trust their results.
A couple hours later the head of the high-risk unit came to see me. I was being admitted due to preterm labour. My ultrasound also showed a large mass in my placenta. It was unclear what the mass was, but it was painful. Keep in mind, I had also been having consistent contractions throughout this entire time, and nobody was offering me any comfort in this regard.
Eventually, I was offered pain medication in the form of high-powered opioids. This concerned me greatly. Not only do I not respond well to opioids (as so many of us don’t), but I was very worried about how it could affect the baby. The doctor assured me that they would continue to monitor the baby and it was important for me to get out of the intense pain I was in. I was told that as long as I did not have a dose within 4 hours of delivery, my baby would be fine. I listened.
“She looked me in the eye and said “don’t you know how bad these are for your baby? Your baby will be born unable to breathe on its own.””
The doctors were able to stop my labour with medication, but I continued to have contractions. They also began to explore what the strange mass on my placenta could be. I had multiple ultrasounds and an MRI which yielded no results. Imagine at this point, I am so exhausted, feeling all the feels and being carted from department to department for testing.
All this time I was still in pain. It was five days in and my doctor told me he recommended that I get an epidural to get a break from the pain. I was so exhausted at that point that I agreed. Hours and hours went by waiting for the anaesthesiologist. Nurses came in and held my hand and told me I just had to wait a few more minutes and the pain would go away. When the anaesthesiologist came in, he told me he was not going to give me the epidural. Even though the doctor ordered it, he refused. He told me because I wasn’t an active labour I wasn’t a candidate. While I lay there, frustrated, crying, confused, another doctor actually began yelling at the anesthesiologist. She asked him what I was supposed to do about my pain. He didn’t respond and left the room. This began my months-long journey of mixed advice, lack of clarity, and constant pain.
My only option to keep the pain manageable was to continue taking opioids. At the beginning I was constantly questioning my doctors. I was always asking if there was another solution because I did not want to be on this medication long-term. I also could not stop taking the painkillers because then I would essentially feel like I was in active labour without progressing. Who can be in labour for months at a time?
Two weeks into my hospital stay I met a nurse whose face will always be burned into my memory. I was prescribed painkillers every four hours, but I often tried to extend the time between doses to limit my exposure. It had been eight hours and at this point I was in too much pain to continue waiting. I called her in and asked for the medication. She looked me in the eye and said “don’t you know how bad these are for your baby? Your baby will be born unable to breathe on its own.” She refused to get me the medication until she spoke to my doctor. She came back half an hour later and practically threw the pills at me. I was at my worst at that moment and she kicked me while I was down. No longer was this about my navigation as an ‘abnormal’ pregnancy but it was about holding me to some standard.
Truth is, as much as the doctors had assured me that the baby would be okay, I also had my reservations about what this medication could do. In a moment of maternal martyrdom, I decided to stop taking them cold turkey. 12 hours later, I was in a pain crisis. I had started to dilate, and was rushed back to the birthing unit. Once again, they were able to stop my labour but not my contractions. This doctor told me I had to stay on top of my pain medication.
More weeks went by. New rotations of doctors came in with new ideas. It seemed like every day I was being told something different. Some doctors had theories on what the mysterious mass (which further investigation determined to actually be three separate masses) could be. Some doctors urged me to continue taking the opioids. Others told me it was important to stop. You can imagine how confusing this could be. I was dazed and confused to say the least, depleted, somewhat delusional from all the meds. I shouldn’t have had to make these decisions in my condition.
I told them I would follow their medical expertise, but I needed to have a clear consensus to follow. How could I make an informed decision on my health with so many different opinions coming my way? How could I know what the best course of action would be for me and my baby?
I continued taking the painkillers until I was 35 weeks pregnant. I then weaned myself off because I was worried that my baby could be born with an addiction to opioids. At 37 weeks I gave birth to my perfect baby boy.
That was 10 weeks ago. My placenta was supposed to have been sent to pathology for testing. I was told I would get answers within six weeks. I am still waiting.
The lack of options for pain management for women continues to be disappointing, but not surprising. As someone with endometriosis, I’m aware of how women’s issues are often overlooked. I’m aware of how doctors expect women to take on great suffering for the sake of their child. I don’t believe a dichotomy needs to exist. I should not need to choose between my own well-being and my baby. Millions and millions of women are pregnant every single day. I refuse to believe that there aren’t safe and effective remedies to all too common pregnancy issues that have yet to be discovered.
Although I would love to have a second child one day, I don’t know if I can put myself through another pregnancy like that. I don’t know if it’s worth it. I’m not sure if there’s any lessons to be taken from my story other than the opinion of one doctor does not always hold the weight they make you believe it should. Unfortunately as women we need to continue being our own advocates, pushing for answers and demanding treatment.
Amanda has had the strength to share her story with our community and we thank her immensely for her vulnerability. If you or a loved one have gone through fertility issues, birth trauma, pregnancy loss, or need mental health support please reach out about our mental health services.