They told me my ectopic pregnancy was anxiety

^{By Nyla Kamau}

Even before I got married, I was preparing to have children. That’s just the Type-A in me.

My husband and I have been together for four years. We knew early on that we’d found the person we wanted to build a life with. I met him at 30, and by 32 we were planning our wedding. Around that time, I came off birth control and started looking for a gynecologist I could stick with long-term. I wanted to be proactive — get tests, talk through timelines, make sure everything looked good.

I ended up landing on one who was kind and reassuring in all the ways I was looking for. She said when the time came to start trying, we’d run the right tests and go from there. For now, she said, just live your life.

We got married the following year. A house up the street from my parents went on the market just a few months later and we were able to buy it which was a dream (to live in the same neighborhood I grew up in). It felt like everything was falling into place.

Once we were settled, we started trying. I was 33, healthy, active, optimistic. And I'm not sure why but I just assumed it would happen quickly. Most of my friends had gotten pregnant within a few months. I told myself we’d be next.

Three months in, nothing. But my doctor wasn’t concerned.

“It can take up to a year for a healthy couple,” she said. “Try not to stress about it.”

A year felt impossible. But okay.

By month five, I got a positive test. We were thrilled. But less than two weeks later, I started bleeding. My doctor called it a “chemical pregnancy” — an early miscarriage. It happens often, she said.

Sad but "nothing to worry about."

So we tried again. And again. And again.

Four months later, another positive test.

I knew this time I was pregnant before I even took it. My body just felt different. Trying to forget about what had just happened, I did everything I could to stay calm and allow myself to start getting excited. But that was short lived, but after two and a half weeks, the same thing happened. Another early loss.

At my appointment, my gyno confirmed it and reminded me how common it was.  “Lots of couples go through this unfortunately," she said. "It’s just part of the process. Keep trying."

I nodded. But that's so much easier said than done. At this point, I was upset not only at the loss but that my doctor wasn't suggesting tests or anything to make sure everything was ok. And deep down my frustration was growing: why did my friends get pregnant on the first try but it's not happening easily for me?

Anyway, we head off to a family wedding in Wyoming the following weekend and I was grateful for the distraction. But as soon as we landed, I started getting the worst waves of cramps imaginable. I gave it one day but they got so much worse, so i called my doctor.  She said it was "totally normal" after an early loss.

“Don’t let the anxiety take over. Try to relax, everything's fine.”

So I tried my best to not worry about it.

But when we got home, the stomach pains were still there. Worse, if anything. And a small voice in my head — the one I kept trying to ignore — told me to take a pregnancy test. Just to be safe.

The result appeared instantly: positive.

I called my doctor immediately. She told me to come in the next day.

“Sorry, but I really think I need to come in today,” I said.

I didn't mean to be pushy but I knew something was very wrong and I was so sick of being told it was just my nerves or my anxiety.

She paused, then told me to head over.

I got there and they took another urine sample which confirmed the positive pregnancy, checked hCG levels (which were high - immediate red flag), then took an ultrasound.

Moments later, I was told: "You need to go to the hospital right now. You're experiencing an ectopic pregnancy."

We went to the hospital immediately and they got me prepped for surgery right away. While the surgery itself went fine, I ended up losing one of my fallopian tubes because of the damage.

Later they told me that if I had waited, it would’ve been much so much worse. Like, possibly dying worse.

I share this now because it’s strange how easily serious things can be minimized, especially when you’re a woman describing pain that doesn’t fit neatly into a chart.

I’m fine now. I’ll have more tests done soon to see if we can keep trying naturally or need to go the IVF route. But my advice for anyone reading is this: if something feels wrong, always speak up for yourself, and don't let anyone dismiss your worries as "just anxiety."