Imagine being 23 and infertile. That is what today’s guest was faced with when she realized she was having a ectopic pregnancy. Brytani Bradley woke up on her 8th week of pregnancy excited to see her baby only to find out the baby was not in her uterus and she had to be rushed into surgery due to her internal bleeding. She woke up shocked and confused because her baby was gone and so was her fallopian tube. In this episode Brytani takes us back on her journey to getting pregnant and the day she heard those words you are “23 and Infertile.” This episode is for you to listen to if you have experienced an ectopic pregnancy or traumatic miscarriage experience.
Brytani Bradley’s Bio
My name is Brytani Bradley, 23, and I am from Ahoskie, North Carolina. Currently, I reside in Chesapeake, Virginia where I work as a Life Insurance Agent. Aside from my full time profession, lately I have been focusing more of my time and energy into something more personally fulfilling. After too many years of self-doubt and insecurity, I’ve decided to launch a podcast which will release on January 1,2020. Ish Happens podcast is focused on challenging standard societal views on the ish that constantly is happening around us in the world.
Tell me about your journey to motherhood? What obstacles have you overcome?
My journey to motherhood began in 2017 when I experienced my first pregnancy. Me and my longtime boyfriend received the news amid his divorce becoming finalized. Like most pregnancies at a relatively young age, my initial reaction was fear. Aside from the fact of realizing I had a human being growing inside of me, I was now stressing the backlash that would soon come from my boyfriend’s family. Being that he was in the middle of divorce/ separation that was not going so smoothly, his parents were excessively concerned about the image of us together. On top of that, there was also a battle over the custody of his daughter between him and ex-wife. It was a very stressful time but hopeful because of the amount of love that we had for each other. We were looking forward to our first ultrasound scheduled at the typical 8-week mark.
Nothing during the initial weeks raised a flag for me that I would experience what I did. No morning sickness, no headaches, or unusual lethargy. I guess that only weird thing that I experienced was the production of milk, and I mean a lot of it, at only 5-7 weeks. June 26, I woke up that morning with a notification from my pregnancy app saying congratulations welcome to week 8 and check how the baby was developing. This was a Monday, our appointment was on Wednesday, and Quinn’s court hearing was that Thursday. I got out of bed that day feeling good and looking forward to everything coming this week because it signified, we made it through the worst part of the storm. I had no idea that by the end of the day I would be in the hospital getting the news that my uterus was empty and I had lost a pint of blood internally were if they didn’t operate on me asap, I would not live to see tomorrow. SHOCK, CONFUSION, and then saying this really shouldn’t surprise me because of how my life went. I accepted my fate with an optimistic view of “Well I guess we can save money for ourselves and I get to turn up for My 21st birthday in August still. Its that type of thinking right there that has gotten me through all the tragedy and trauma in my life but has caused suppression of how the events have affected me mentally and emotionally. It was whatever, I moved on not really thinking much into it because I always had another tube and it just wasn’t time. When people would ask “oh I thought you guys were expecting” my causal response would always be “I had an ectopic pregnancy that almost killed me but its cool cause we weren’t ready for kids anyway” People would look at me confused on how it just flowed off my tongue and moved on to the next thing.
Me and Quinn never really talked about it either after I got home from surgery, it was just one moment in bed when we came from the hospital and he laid his head on me and cried, like cried cried, in a way that was so heartbreaking because you just don’t expect a man to break down and ugly loud cry like he did. Even then I couldn’t cry or share that emotion with him I only knew to console him in his hurt and pain even though it was my hurt and pain as well.
Fast forward to January 2018, we’re snowed in the house and I decide to prank him by peeing on a pregnancy test and tell him I was pregnant. My joke fired back when the stick said I was. I was still shocked and confused because since our lost we weren’t necessarily trying to get pregnant again, but we weren’t preventing it either. I took the 6 months going by as a oh shoot I do only have 1 tube so the chances are so low its not a concern I cared about on top of somewhere over the past few months since our loss our relationship kind of dwindled, we were distant in the same household almost like strangers. Regardless we had to prepare for a baby and make sure things were going good this time to avoid a repeat if we could. Because of the previous loss my OBGYN wanted to constantly have me come in for blood so they could monitor my hormone levels until I was far along enough for an ultrasound. Everything rose normally, my hormones were right on target, enough to schedule an early ultrasound at 5 weeks for the doctors to try and see a sack. We went in for our appointment but couldn’t see or hear anything during the ultrasound. We weren’t alarmed nor was personnel because I was still early. I t6ook that as a whatever and I was okay for coming back next week for another attempt. My blood levels said I was fine but I think I vaguely remember them saying my uterus wall didn’t measure thick enough to support a sack but still not to worry. Anyway, two days later I found myself in the hospital again, bleeding in the waiting room, anxious to just go to the back and get confirmation I was experiencing a miscarriage. I was okay with that, I was fine with that. The pain I was experiencing was different than the first time, I was bleeding this time. I saw a normal miscarriage as hope that at least I could have my tube and get pregnant later. Its not our time yet and we weren’t ready for a kid anyway. Typical sayings to myself I always do. WRONG! Another ectopic, more internal bleeding, and another loss of a tube. The only one I had left. We left out of there like well….at least I’m alive and we have Ava (Quinn’s Daughter)
This is my story I’m still writing, I’m steal dealing with whether consciously or subconsciously. I struggle to understand if it should signify meaning in who I am or what my situation means to me. Yes I’m 23 and intertitle, but what does that mean? How does that really make me feel, what does it mean to Quin who is 8 years older and wants more kids. Will we ever have the money to pay for a baby? Will we still want to? That’s a lot for a baby that is already costly…so many questions and untapped subjects and emotions. I can’t wait to discuss with you I hope of some sort of clarity, hope or direction. Maybe my story may help another…ish happens I guess.
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