In a Vicodin haze

After a much needed and appreciated beautiful day with my little family, I woke up Monday morning ready for the week. 5:00 AM, to be exact. I woke up with The Man and just decided to start my day rather than try to get an extra 45 minutes in.
Around 6:30 AM, I started to get really bad cramps. By the time The Bun woke up, I was in tears. I've been constipated before (due to pregnancy) but this was a whole new level. It was so bad that I called my parents to see if they could come over to take care of The Bun while I worked it out. Thank goodness, my mom said they would be right over.
She's the one who suspected something much more serious. I had been moded before about this - going to the doctor thinking it was something else and finding out it was just constipation. Luckily, though, my mom can be very persuasive. She convinced me to let my Dad take me to the hospital while she took care of The Bun. Even if it was just constipation, I could at least get medication for it.
Long story short, I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. I was told I should have surgery the same day because of the pain and bleeding. My Fallopian tube could rupture and then I would be in serious trouble. I asked and received a second opinion. Same response. I called The Man but his work phone was off. Crying harder at the thought that he wouldn't come in time, I requested an operator to notify his supervisor to have him contact me. He came home immediately. He said the minute his boss told him I was looking for him, he knew I was having a miscarriage.
I had the surgery in the afternoon. The paperwork they had me sign prior to the surgery was scary. Risk of having to remove my tube if the mass was too big. Risk of re-opening my c-section scar if there were complications. Thankfully, no complications.
I am, however, emotionally and physically drained. The doctor also told me that I have a higher chance of another ectopic pregnancy because I now have a history. I think it's a 20% chance. Shit. For certain, we are done trying to have another baby this year. The Man said that we don't have to try again because he doesn't want me to go through this a third time. My mom thinks that I should stop trying because it's a lot to put on my body. I don't know. Maybe we are done, period. The Man says adoption is a consideration but I can't wrap my head around that quite yet.
The one good thing about the pain (and yes, it is far more painful than my D&C) is that, between the discomfort and the Vicodin, I don't want to cry. I'm pretty removed from the emotional pain. Maybe that will return when the physical pain goes away but I'm going to be thankful for its absence in the meantime.