We lost a baby on Friday. I hadn't even known I was pregnant until Tuesday. It wasn't something we were trying for at all. I was on the pill, for God's sake. But even I know that the pill can fail and that PMS doesn't last for three weeks, so I took the test. And it was positive. And I was terrified. After Evelyn, we had decided that we were done having kids. Still, my husband laughed, pounded his chest and we were both settling into the idea by Thursday when I started bleeding.

I went to the doctor to get checked out and had a blood test. Then the bleeding got a little worse. I woke up to more pain Friday. When the nurse called me at work, she said I was six weeks along and congratulated me. She was in a hurry to go until I told her that I was bleeding and having cramps and had been for a couple of days, only it was getting worse. I was worried I was having a miscarriage. So they told me to come in for an ultrasound that day. They looked for the baby and they found nothing. Except for that cyst in my fallopian tube that they suspected was the pregnancy, about to rupture. That was at 2:30 p.m.

They didn't let me go home. They had someone escort me to the hospital, then from admitting to a private room where I was scheduled for surgery at 9. I spent most of the evening by myself - I wanted to make everything as normal as possible for the kids, so after my husband came by with some underwear and my toothbrush, I sent him to get the kids and put them to bed. My friend (who deserves anything from me she could ever ask) came over and helped get everyone fed and into bed, then stayed while my husband came to wait through my surgery.

The room where they performed the surgery was freezing. I was so cold I was shaking on the table. The hot blankets they piled on top of me were as close to heaven as I could get in that place. An hour and a half later, I woke minus the baby and a fallopian tube. The tube had started bleeding while I was in surgery and wouldn't stop, so they had to take the entire thing out. Anyway, I woke up next to a guy who'd had surgery on his arm. It was 12:33 a.m. He grinned and called out, "Hey, recovery buddy!" I couldn't talk because my throat was so sore from the breathing tube they'd put down my throat.

My husband stayed with me in my room until I kicked him out around 1, then went home to sleep. I know the nurses checked on me a few times throughout the night and finally helped me to the bathroom, where I checked out my incisions - one in my navel, one a few inches to the left of my right hip and another larger one just above my uterus where the baby and my tube were taken out.

Anyway, I'm tired. I didn't realize I was actually looking forward to the baby until it was gone. I'm not as upset as I might be had it been something we'd been planning for, that had been known for longer. But I'm still sad. And sore. I wish things could have been different. But they weren't, and there you go. I'm glad I took the test early. I wanted to wait until this week. By that time I would've been bleeding and would've assumed it was my period. I wouldn't have done anything, possibly until the internal bleeding was more severe. So for that, I'm grateful. I'm glad my kids haven't been too disrupted. Unfortunately, Evelyn had to wean unexpectedly - percocet in your bloodstream and a nursing toddler does not a good combination make.