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During a fitful night, I grew increasingly uncomfortable, and as the dark hours crawled by, the pain became a hot scream tearing at my abdomen. I awoke the next morning gasping in pain with a worried Jon begging me to please go to the hospital. Neither one of us at that point even vaguely considered that this pain could possibly be related in any way to the fertility treatments I had received just a few weeks beforehand. Even if it had occurred to us, a hospital visit was most definitely not in my plans that day. My youngest sister, Rissa, was getting married. This was Saturday, her special day, and I did not want to miss it.

I stoically but stupidly gritted my teeth and bore it, though I sat ashen-faced and quiet throughout the entire celebration. My family of course plainly saw that I was in significant discomfort and, after much convincing, I finally agreed to leave the festivities early and was at home tucked into bed by 9:30 p.m.

My hopes of sleeping were completely abandoned by midnight. I was manic with pain. My belly was by that time huge and puffy, and excruciating agony consumed me. I desperately agreed it was time to go the hospital as Jon called his father to come stay with the girls.

© 2008 by Katie Irene Gosselin and Beth Ann Carson.

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