The post I am about to share with you wasn’t really what I had in mind when I planned out my first post of 2017, that post was about essential oils. Perhaps we’ll save that for another day.

Actually, as a matter of fact, it wasn’t really a post I ever dreamt I would be writing, I knew it could always be a possibility, but like all of humanity I didn’t think it would happen to me. But, as I sit listening to the rhythmic growl of my IV machine, and with a lack of internet connection to pass the time with videos of cats sitting in boxes that are way too small for them, I feel compelled to write. Perhaps the urge comes from the same place that birthed a blog called Honestly Amy. A blog about all aspects of my life, not just the well staged, well-lit pieces, but the real, raw parts as well.

This New Year has brought a self-reflection I never imagined. As I stared at a blaring positive pregnancy test on December 30th, I had all the reasons in my head why this wasn’t true. I am on the pill. Finn is still too young, she’s just a baby, I’m not ready for another one! We wanted to buy a house this year. I love my new job, I’ve just started to feel good at being a mom. As quickly as all those objections swirled in my mind and I climbed back into bed beside Jord and showed him the test – the excitement on his face made it real. My always practical, always thinking three steps ahead husband’s reaction was none of the things I was thinking, only joy. Was it not my perfect timing? Yes. But by 9:30 that same morning I was on board, I was all in. I was already looking up double strollers and thinking about whether we’d find out the gender ahead of time or not. At lunch I walked to the nearest drug store to grab a dating test, just to make sure my timeline was right. PREGNANT it blared and two seconds later came up with a 2-3 weeks.


My cycle is nothing if not on time and predictable. There is no way I was 2-3 weeks along. I texted Jord – “it’s one of three things 1) Our dates are wrong, 2) I’m pregnant with twins 3) It’s an ectopic (tubal) pregnancy.

Then the bleeding and the cramping started. Don’t freak out I thought. You had this with Finn and were worried for nothing. But the pain got worse. “Please come get me” I begged to Jord on the phone. He rushed me to the ER. They took their time, they looked at me with those eyes of “overwrought new’s way too early to know anything”.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. I just knew it.

I originally wrote a very long post detailing the next five days but I erased it. At this point, it is still too raw, too recent to go into all the details.

Over the next two days I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy and had begun to miscarry. As the pain became more intense and we rushed back to the hospital, I’ve come to realize there are two very broad categories of pain when heading to the ER; the first one being the one where you know what the pain is and you want it to stop. You’ve broken your arm, you’ve sprained your ankle, you’ve got a bad flu bug. The second kind is the scarier one. It’s the one where you don’t know what is wrong, you don’t know what is happening and anything is a possibility. Had my tube ruptured? Was I haemorrhaging? Was this part of the process? Will I have to have surgery? Would I be able to have more kids? Suddenly, Finn’s little face was in my head. I was so scared and all I could think was I want to watch her grow up. The pain I was experience made me for the first time in my life, worry I might not make it. It sounds dramatic but it was real.

There have been so many layers to this event. There was fear and physical pain for the first few days. Then, as things began to stabilize, the physical pain began to gave way to the reality of loss and grief. Pregnancy and birth announcements have stung a little. There’s happiness and joy but they’re also a reminder of what might have been and the excitement and optimism that was so real has now been snatched. It’s truly amazing how little time it takes to grow attached to something so tiny and relatively unseen. But truly, I think the part that is the hardest, is the grief of knowing that pregnancy will always be tainted with a bit of fear from here on out. We will have to work hard at letting peace lead. My chances of having an ectopic pregnancy again have risen 15%. We put our trust and faith in God, that He is faithful, and He is leading us through this storm and he already knows what lies ahead, and for that I am ever grateful.

I am thankful for our medical system. All though slow and crowded at times (I spent a good few hours slipping into a drugged sleep in the hallway), I spent almost 5 days in and out of hospital. I was given all the drugs I needed, the ultrasounds, the specialists, the food (I should be getting paid to eat that stuff) and the care and as I was finally discharged this morning, I walked out without paying a cent. I am thankful for our friends and community that have supported and prayed for us, dropped everything to help us, offered to watch Finn, cook us meals, walk our dog. My reflections on 2016 may be a bit late, but they sure are vivid and more real than they would have been otherwise..

Tonight I will sleep in my own bed, after tucking my precious, beloved, daughter into her crib and fall asleep next to the stoic, overwrought, super model I married. And while the road ahead is still full of blood tests, careful monitoring, and grief, I’m so thankful I’m not walking this road alone.


2017, I’m ready for you.