I read about PCOS. I studied. I delved into realms of fertility I thought no woman had ever heard of. I read things I know men didn’t WANT to hear about; things like fertile mucus. I charted my fertility patterns, or lack thereof, I cried, I prayed, and most of all I hoped. I hoped that one day I would have that child that my husband and I wanted so bad.
I remember thinking to myself “Just one child. That’s all I need. Just one. I am not being greedy, I just want one.”, but still that day never came. I found myself looking into my past and being angry over not having a child before. I found myself angry at the miscarriage I am 99% sure I had at 18 years old. Even though the baby would have belonged to a complete jerk, I was so mad that I lost the one baby I could have had. I know now that it was the best thing for me to not have a baby, but I was still resentful over loosing one.
I was pissed at the world and bitter as all get out. Between people constantly asking me when I was going to have a baby, and watching other people around me have babies who didn’t want or appreciate them, I was livid. I started resenting everyone I knew who had children. I became bitter at other women who had one child, yet “whined” about not having a second, or third, or fifteenth. Suddenly every woman out there who had a child was my enemy because that had something I couldn’t have.
Does this make sense? Probably not, but at the least I can try to explain. It’s something a woman has NO CONTROL over. I didn’t have to be jealous of someone who became a lawyer or a doctor. Why? Because if I wanted to, I could go to law school or med school and be the same if not better as those other women out there. There is no challenge out there that I cannot win if I want to win it. No challenge except becoming a mother.
An average women has a 1 in 5 change in getting pregnant. I would take those odds any day for a lottery, but when it comes to being pregnant, those odds are not good enough. Not even on a good day. Sure there are things out there a woman can do to try and help the process along, but even under all the right conditions, being fertile, having a fertile partner, and having the moon aligned with Venus on the second Thursday of a month with five Fridays, you still get a 20% chance to become pregnant.
At this point, I talked to my husband about it and decided that trying out fertility drugs to help with ovulation was the way to go. I started taking a little white pill called Clomid that was supposed to make my life a lot easier. Surely, this would fix it and I would have a child. YAY! I was giddy again at the prospect of becoming a mom.
I cursed and shook my fist at fate that I was due to ovulate while I would be on a trip to visit my brother who was in flight school. However, that was the least of my problems. I was swelling up like a 3 ton mac truck. Oh yes, hahaha funny funny I was getting fat before I got pregnant. How lovely is THAT medicine?! I was already a bigger woman hence the PCOS in the first place, so I found it completely disturbing that I was gaining weight like a hog before a Hawaiian feast! I wasn’t eating more food! I was still on Weight Watchers to make sure I wasn’t gaining weight, but man the pounds piled on. About three months into taking this miracle drug, I was 40 lbs heavier, had feet the size of cinder blocks, and a face that looked like the Stay Puffed Marshmallow Man had permanently possessed my body.
I actually became concerned when my feet were so swollen they hurt to walk on them. I called the doctors office and told them I was pretty sure something was wrong. You could poke the top of my shin and it would leave an indention in my leg for about 30 minutes. I KNEW this couldn’t be right. I was told I was “eating too much salt”. I thought to myself B.S.! I don’t even like salt, so I started checking how much I was eating per day. I was actually consuming LESS than the daily recommended amount by the FDA. That was when I called back and threw a fit to see the doctor.
I walked in to have a visit with Mr. Internal Ultrasound, and sure enough he yanked me right off of those meds because they were not going to work for me. He told me my next option: $1,500 a month for shots. Insurance wouldn’t pay for it.
– To be continued.