Just Waiting...

CD 17 - Waiting to Ovulate - 100mg Clomid

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Sooooo.... not much happening over here. I'm CD 17 already and, if I had a regular cycle, would be in my TWW by now. Of course, I'm nowhere near normal, so instead I think I'll most likely ovulate in the next week or so. I don't even have any pre O symptoms so I have no concrete clues. With my new job time seems to be passing very quickly, and yet not quickly enough. I've put my sweet husband on notice for lots of romantic time in the next week or so in hopes of catching my fertile window. There's no such thing as too much sex when you're TTC!

That being said, I have no idea if I will even ovulate this month. I did manage to ovulate last month thanks to Clomid, but it's not a sure thing yet. I'm still not counting on it - can you really count on anything when you have PCOS and endometriosis and a history of many (MANY!) anovulatory cycles. Without my constant monitoring by ultrasound and blood tests, I have no idea whether I have any follicles or not. Because I do monitor my temperature, at least I will know if I HAVE ovulated or not due to a sustained temperature rise. So every morning at 6 I check my temp and hope to see a spike - nothing's happened so far!

And every day, I try to just keep living my life, just keep pushing on. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, one breath then another. I try not to think too hard or too long about it all, it only makes my heart ache and feel empty all at once. I just booked a trip to Croatia for a week of sun and relaxation. If all works out, I'll be in my TWW by then and it will help the time zip by. I'm really looking forward to the trip - lots of beaches, wine, and culture - but of course, as always, I'd rather be pregnant. Sigh.   

Until that time, I'll try to spend my time living, not just waiting. 

Clomid Round Two at 100 mg

Well, I promised an update so here I am. As you may have noticed from the title, I'm on my second Clomid cycle (at 100mg) but my third Clomid cycle overall. This worries me a bit, as doctors normally only allow you to try six Clomid cycles before they move on to stronger drugs. My doctor has noted that we'll move on to injectibles - and I hate needles.

By now you've deduced that my last Clomid cycle ended without any positive results. I did manage to hold off testing, but I was thoroughly disappointed when my period started. I had hoped that all the signs were pointing to pregnancy! At least now I know what my PMS signs look like, as I think this is only my second natural ovulation in a year. All I can do now is look forward to this next cycle and do everything I can to make it work. Hubby and I don't have any plans to be apart this time, so at least that timing works.

I guess I shouldn't be too disappointed, as this was my first real chance of pregnancy in 13 months, it's not much a surprise that it didn't work. Any normal couple (without any infertility issues) only has a 1 in 5 of getting pregnant in any one cycle. Who knows what other issues I have lurking around the corner? 

So today I start Clomid, and I've decided to take it at night in hopes that the side effects will be less drastic, or occurring during my sleep so I don't notice them as much. I'm trying to keep my stress levels down, although with my new job that might be quite difficult. I'm even more grateful that I accepted this job as it provides a perfect 10 months of distraction. 

Not much else to update on just now. CD 3 is both depressing and exciting - depressing because it means the last cycle was unsuccessful, but exciting because it means there is a new cycle starting. I'm hoping to ovulate earlier than CD 22, and the nurse at the Fertility Clinic was concerned by my 'long cycle' last month. At 35 days, my last cycle was the shortest cycles I've had since we started TTC (the next shortest was 41 days!), so I can't even imagine having the normal, 28 day cycle! Anything shorter than 112 days is pretty great for me - I think most women with PCOS can agree. I wonder what they'll do if this is another 'long cycle'? Add more meds? I'll do pretty much anything at this point!

One (BIG) Follicle!

Cycle Day 22, Second Clomid Cycle 100mg days 3-7, Second monitoring appointment (blood draw and internal ultrasound).

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After my last monitoring appointment, I had no hope for this cycle. With no follicles in sight, the doctor said to come back in a week to check one last time before bringing on my period and trying me at 150mg Clomid. So I put everything aside and focused on me. I had a lot of things going on! My sweet hubby and I flew to Geneva, where we spent the day visiting friends before driving to France so I could complete my second Half-Ironman. I had prepared for this moment for 6 months (and secretly prayed I would be pregnant so I wouldn't have to actually complete it!) and finally the day had come. Honestly, I blasted my expectations out of the water and completed the race in 6:33:51 (my previous time had beed 7:14:12!). My swim, bike and run all were enjoyable and, although not easy, not too terribly difficult either. I never felt that dreaded feeling you can sometimes get in an endurance race of, "I can't go one more step - I can't finish!" I ended with a big smile and a sprint, and I was very proud of myself and my strong body (for the first time in a long time!)

I returned to the UK ready to face my second monitoring appointment. It went as usual - except I started crying in the scan room. But let's back up a bit to go through each part. It started like always with a blood draw and small talk with the nurses, then a wait for the internal ultrasound. The doctor checking me in the scan room was visibly pregnant and as we had never met, she introduced herself. Then she started by measuring my uterine lining (8mm, a decent number), and then moving onto my left ovary. I watched the screen as always and saw the string-of-pearl-cysts.

"Nothing but small cysts in the left ovary," the doctor called out to her assistant, who scrawled it down on her paper.

I looked up at the ceiling instead of craning to look at the screen as usual. I knew what was coming. I could feel the disappointment welling up in me and I was mentally preparing myself. 

"18 x 24mm, one big follicle, and it looks like it's about to release!" My head snapped to the screen at these words. I couldn't believe it. There it was, clear as day, one dominant follicle. The kind that most women get every month and don't even think about. I burst into tears. The nice assistant handed me a tissue and told me it was okay and not to cry - that the other doctors would thin they were torturing me. I explained through my tears that this would be my first chance to get pregnant in 13 months. As the doctor fished around with the dildo cam for the best view, and took a few more pictures, I felt the hope soar inside of me. This was amazing news! Clomid 100mg DID work for me! I don't have to move onto injectables yet!

After the scan finished they left me to get dressed, and when I exited the scan room, all the nurses and doctors standing there did a little cheer for me. "You've got to celebrate the little victories, right?" I said. They all nodded emphatically with me and patted me on the back. They told me the follicle was so mature that they weren't going to trigger me this time. I should get home, get busy, and come back in a week to check to be sure it had released. 

It was my first drive back from the clinic that wasn't seen through tear-clouded eyes. It was the first good news I had received since we started all this in August 2014. I got home and I couldn't hide my joy. After sharing the news with my husband, we celebrated together. Even if this round doesn't end in pregnancy, at least we know there are more rounds ahead of us, more rounds with a chance! No more 120+ day cycles and never ending waiting. 

I'm also very grateful I decided to join my husband on his business trip this weekend - otherwise we could have missed my window! I'll update a bit more as these next few weeks continue, but I still can't stop smiling. 

An Ovary Full of Cysts

Cycle Day 12, Second Clomid Cycle 100mg days 3-7, First monitoring appointment (blood draw and internal ultrasound).

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Usually the beginning of a cycle makes me anxious an excited for *maybe* something good happening. The beginning of this cycle seemed to appear out of nowhere while I was in Prague visiting my cousin and then things just got more hectic from there. I barely noticed that my first monitoring appointment was quickly approaching until yesterday night. The nerves started again, but I just looked the other way and focused on all the other things I needed to do (and there is a lot I need to do!)

Then this morning arrived and I went into the fertility clinic like usual. Unlike the previous times, I had no butterflies in my stomach or strong hopes for something good. I was just trying to be realistic and protect myself. 

Good thing too.

After the blood draw, I went in for the dildo cam and as the doctor measured my lining (3cm) and then inspected one ovary, and then the other, I could see what was coming. I'm getting good at understanding the ultrasound screen. 

"Wow," she commented, "Look at all those cysts just sitting there and doing nothing!"

"I know," I replied, "Come on ovaries, you have ONE JOB!" I was trying to lighten the mood and pretend like this was all okay. But again, it's just crushing. 

With the internal ultrasound bit over, the doctor said I should come in again in a week, just in case I responded slower to the meds and something happened. I explained I'd be away for a race until Wednesday of the following week, and she said that was fine, because there was just no activity in my ovaries. Not even a hint of a slightly larger follicle. Just pearls of cysts taking up as much space as possible and being totally and completely useless. 

At first I felt just a bit numb and I was proud of myself for not tearing up. I knew this was a possibility, I had prepared myself for the fact that 100mg of Clomid may not work. I managed to hold it all together until I got to the car and got through the ticket gates and back onto the main road. I feel like every time I leave that hospital, I'm crying. 

So now I'll be focusing on my big race this Saturday. There's nothing I can do until next week at my next appointment, so I won't spend any time dwelling on it. Of course, I'll keep temping, checking my CM, and drinking grapefruit juice, but I've got other things to worry about. And this is why you have to keep living, keep making plans, keep on keeping on - because if cycle after cycle fails, you need a life boat to cling on to so you don't drown in the hopelessness and sadness of it all.

Clomid Round 2 at 100mg and Raging Side Effects

Cycle Day 11, Second Clomid Cycle (days 3-7) at 100mg

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I feel like it's been far too long since I've done any updating, but then again there wasn't much to say. I had to wait for the last cycle to end (63 days!) with the help of Provera and then to take Clomid for this cycle. Since the last round did nothing but create more cysts, the doctors have upped my dosage. 

I noticed an immediate difference from the last Clomid round to this one. My temperature was much higher while taking it, and I had some of the often-talked about side effects - moodiness, headaches, hot flashes, and crazy dreams. I'm hoping this is a good sign, and that it means the meds will actually work this time (but I'm not holding my breath!)

The mood swings side effect was the one that surprised me most, and surprised my sweet husband as well! We had friends flying all the way in from Canada to visit us that day, and I had just gotten home from a trip to Prague. I was desperately trying to make a shopping list and plan meals so I could get to the store before they arrived. As I scoured Pinterest for a child-friendly, vegetarian-friendly meal, my hubby walked in. I asked if he though baked ziti was a good idea for the first dinner and he gave me a blank stare. "What's ziti?" he asked. And that's when the explosion of angry screaming from me started, mostly about how he was being so unhelpful and trying to frustrate me and why couldn't he just make something easier?!! Why couldn't he just tell me that was the perfect meal?!!

I realized after he backed out of the room that maybe I was being a bit unreasonable. Hormones can sure make you do crazy things! Needless to say after the eruption I went to find my husband and apologize for the pulsing anger that seemed to come from nowhere. I am so lucky I got a guy that understands me and knows that something like that is so out of character that we can just blame the drugs and move on.

The crazy dreams are also very surprising, as usually my dreams fade immediately after I wake up. This time, however, my first fantastical dream was so real I had to do some fact checking after I woke up just to make sure it wasn't true! Every night has been like that since I started the pills, and now that I've finished with them I hope they will stop soon. 

Tomorrow morning I have my first monitoring appointment for this Clomid cycle. I am trying not to think about it, or get anxious about it, because the last few visits have been so disappointing. My ovaries just don't do their job! On top of all that, I leave on Thursday for a half-ironman race in France. I signed up for this back in March, praying by now I would be pregnant so I wouldn't have to complete it. Alas, here we are 6 months later and no closer to being pregnant, so I've got to at least attempt it. This all means that around my O date, I won't be near the clinic to get a trigger shot, and I'll have quite a lot of stress hormones coursing through my system. I'm half hoping my ovulation is delayed like many other PCOS-ers, and that it doesn't happen until I'm back from France but there is nothing I can count on. I'll just have to go in tomorrow, give some blood, deal with the dildo-cam, and take it from there. 

The only thing I have to cling on to is that if this cycle doesn't work, then I will be able to attend my best friend's wedding next May. I'm her maid of honor, so I REALLY want to go but she knows that if something good happens this month then I will only be attending via Skype. Her wedding date is 9 months from when I'm due to ovulate this cycle, so it's good/bad timing. That's the life of TTC, always counting ahead to the next cycle, the next possible due date, the next appointment...

Now only time will tell... if you're reading this, wish me luck tomorrow!

Reactions, Positivity, and Understanding

While visiting my friends and family in America (some with children, some with grandchildren, some without any), it was interesting to see people's reactions, responses, and comments if I chose to share my current struggle with infertility. I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with this situation - A bottle of wine in each hand? Mimosas every day at breakfast? How do you respond to a topic that consumes you when you're home but that is so difficult to discuss?

As I had guessed most people brought up the topic with me quite quickly. With more than five years of marriage, a new home and low-stress job, it looks like the perfect set-up for a family. As they eyed my very full wine glass, they would inquire, "So, are you thinking about starting a family?" and I would choose my response carefully. Usually something like, "Yep, we are trying pretty hard, but no luck so far!" Humor can make any topic seem normal. 

I had expected some of the normal responses for someone who is trying-but-not-succeeding: At least you're young! It'll happen when the time's right! Maybe you should adopt! You know all the ones I'm talking about. I had prepared myself for them as well, and mostly let them slide right over me without taking them to heart. No one is trying to be hurtful with their comments. People don't know how to react to a situation they have never encountered. They want to give advice, they want to give hope, they want you to be happy and positive and make THEM feel comfortable. And I get it - infertility is a pretty uncomfortable topic. Society has made it very taboo to talk about reproduction, and I also believe the explicit details of my journey are a private topic for trusted close friends and family (except, apparently, on this all-too-public blog, but that's something else entirely).  

So for a lot of my interactions with friends and family while on my visit to America, I lied. Instead of sharing how I really feel most of the time (hopeless, frustrated, angry, inadequate, and more...), I pulled on my brave-face mask and echo their sentiments and hide my real thoughts.  For the most part, people don't want to hear that you are not okay. They want the easy, comfortable, sanitized version. They want me to be positive and joyful like I normally am towards difficult situations in life. I can't really blame them, everyone has enough of their own troubles in their life - why do they need mine too?

One friend, however, really surprised me. Instead of a cliché comment, advice, reassurance, or positivity, she offered support and understanding. Instead of rushing to tell me how, "I would get there someday," or "It would all be alright," or telling me about her roommate's cousin's sister with PCOS who miraculously had a baby - she commiserated with me. 

"You must be so frustrated"
"It might never happen, I'm so sorry."
"I know what it's like to go through something difficult. I'm here if you ever need to talk about it"

And for that moment, I didn't feel like I was hiding behind a mask or pretending to be the sunny, positive, shiny me. I could just share my real thoughts and put everything out there on the table. I felt so free for the moment. When we said goodbye I gave her several big hugs. I don't think she even realized how important that conversation was for me. 

Everyone deals with infertility in their own way, and I don't think there is one right way to do it. I just know showing understanding and compassion instead of rushing to slap on a band-aid can do wonders for someone like me. And if you're reading this and struggling too - I understand, and I'm sorry for your frustration and difficulty. 

Second Clomid Cycle On Its Way

With my first disappointing cycle behind me and another 50+ day cycle continuing on, I finally had the chance to visit the fertility clinic. My time during my travel in America made the days pass, thankfully, quite quickly but this next cycle was always in the back of my mind. I was always anxious, always waiting for the days to tick on.

The visit to the clinic was very brief - no more than 5 minutes. They determined I still hadn't ovulated (and most likely wouldn't), and prescribed me Provera (to bring on a period) and then Clomid 100mg for days 3-7 in hopes of making me ovulate.

I'm now on day 2 out of 7 of Provera, and I've seen my temperature increase already. More than anything I am just anxious to get on with it and have a real chance. We're back to a different kind of waiting - waiting for the end of this cycle and the start of the next one without any happy TWW maybe-I'm-pregnant-maybe-I'm-not guessing and hoping in-between.

Part of me is optimistic that something will finally happen this time around. Most of me doesn't believe that anything will. Maybe that's just a bit of self-preservation. Every time I hope, I set myself up for failure. But if I already think it's not going to work (and by some miracle it does) then I will be surprised and ecstatic. 

Only time will tell - and of course I'll be updating here as it goes along. If you're reading this, will you say a prayer and cross your fingers and think positive thoughts my way? I need all the good vibes I can get.

Second Monitoring Appointment (CD 19)

I woke up this morning with that nervous, excited anticipation that you get before a blind date or first day of school. The one where you can't wait to get where you're going, but also worried about what is going to come from getting there. It was my second monitoring appointment for this first Clomid cycle, and I was hoping (praying really), that my two, slightly larger follicles have grown and responded to the 50mg of Clomid. 

I got to the fertility clinic early, sending up a silent prayer for the clinic not being in the same area as the maternity ward, and so not being filled with pregnant, happy women. I wrote my name down on the sign-in sheet and waited no more than 5 minutes before I was called in by a kind, chatty nurse to get my blood drawn. Next was the dildo-cam, and at this point my stomach was doing flips and I just kept thinking to myself, over and over, "Please, please, please show that my follicles have grown! Please, please, please!" I waited a few minutes more on the awkward, spread-your-legs chair before the doctor and assistant came in to start the ultrasound. The dildo-cam was quickly inserted and started with my uterus. "Oh, very nice, thick lining!" the doctor exclaimed as she measured it and called out the numbers to her assistant. Well this was a good start! I thought to myself. Then she pivoted the dildo-cam to the side to check out the main feature, my ovaries. She pushed this way and that, trying (and maybe hoping too?) to find a dominant follicle. She found one slightly larger than the rest, but after measuring it she realized it had shrunk from my last visit a week ago. Switching to the other side, she searched in vain for something that might pass for a follicle. Zip, zero, nada. She didn't even bother to measure anything on the other side, it was so obvious how small the follicles were.  

I could see it on her face before she said anything. A kind smile, but also a tiny bit sad. She explained that it didn't look as if I had responded to 50mg of Clomid, and that we'd need to up the dosage for the next cycle. She asked me to come in again on Friday for one last check before they prescribed Provera again. I swallowed the lump in my throat as they left the room to let me get dressed again. I managed to make it out of the clinic before I started crying.

Rationally, I knew this might happen. It may take a few cycles to find the right dosage of Clomid, and because of the side-effects they always start with a low dose then work their way up. But my body had been showing signs of imminent ovulation - egg-white cervical mucus (EWCM) a high, open cervix, and an increased sex-drive. Even with all these signs, from the scans we can see there is no chance I'll be ovulating any time soon. I'm so angry at my body, for letting me down again and for tricking me into thinking something good was coming. Since I'll be away traveling for 3 weeks, I know that I won't have a chance in July, so our next shot is in August. It may not seem far away, but it's another 2 months down the line. It feels like no matter what I do, I'm always waiting - and even when I do all this waiting, I don't even have a fighting chance. 

When I came home from my appointment and the drive/cry home, my lovely hubby was up waiting for me to see how it went. I just asked for a hug, knowing I couldn't trust myself to explain it yet. I left myself just stay there for a while, let myself be hugged and tried to calm myself down. Then I got a lot of hugs and cuddles and kisses as I explained the appointment and results. I am so grateful to have such a loving, supportive husband, someone who I am so happy to be with, even after five years of marriage. 

So now I haven't got much choice but to keep moving on and looking forward to my future plans. I've realized there isn't a chance I'll be pregnant by the end of August, so my training for my half-ironman is in full swing (and boy can my muscles feel it!). I've got plenty of things to keep me busy and to look forward to, so I just have to push away this dark cloud, hide it in a closet or cupboard, and keep pushing forward, one step at a time. Why dwell on something you can't change? Why worry about the future when, "worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum" (a quote from the graduation speech "Wear Sunscreen".).

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Try not to get caught up in this moment right now. Try to see the long game, try to enjoy what you can while you can. Wine, sushi, sleeping in late, travel, spontaneity, beer, margaritas, gin & tonic... and deep breath in, deep breath out. 

Friends and Infertility

This past week I was very lucky to be able to fly to Switzerland to visit my old friends, colleagues, and students. It had been ten months since my last visit, and everything seemed to have stayed the same, even though I have changed. I spent my days rushing from one place to another, trying to squeeze everyone in, and all in all I think I succeeded. By the end of the six days I was exhausted and coming down with a cold (typical of my time there!).

Do you ever take a step back from your life and really examine the friends and acquaintances who fill it? Leaving Switzerland allowed me this option, and this trip back highlighted the friends I can rely on and trust, and the friends who are too wrapped up in their own lives to pay attention to others. 

Many of my friends wanted to hear about my big round-the-world trip. Most asked how the life and job in my new home were. Some of my friends wanted to know how I was doing - was I settling in okay? Was I making friends? Was I happy? Even fewer friends were interested (and then very supportive) about this new struggle I am working through. It felt like such a relief to talk about it with some real, live, people (not just my lovely husband!). Friends who know who I am and what I want most, friends who comfort me and tell me I can call anytime, no matter what. I can count these friends on one hand, and that's okay.

Other friends were too busy telling me about their own life/work/pregnancy/baby to actually have a conversation with me. It's not that I need to bitch and moan all day, or go on and on about everything related to me - but this is a part of my life, a big part, and if you're truly my friend it's probably better if you know at least a little bit about what's happening in it. Some of my "friends" never took a moment to ask.

Of course one of the hardest parts about visiting so many people were the near-constant comments about how it was time to start a family with my big, family home and family-centered neighborhood. I tried to fend this one off by always holding a glass (or a bottle) of wine. When I mentioned we're trying, and that it's taking longer than we'd like, of course I got the whole range of unhelpful remarks:

"It'll be your turn soon"
"Oh just relax, it'll happen"
"Enjoy your life while you have it!"
"You're so young"
"Insert every other insensitive comment you can think of - I'm sure I heard it this weekend"

And if the person I was talking to was someone I regarded as being a close friend, and I confided the actual situation I was in, then usually out came the stories...

"My uncle's cousin's niece had PCOS and she had 3 kids!"
"I had a colleague whose daughter had endo and she got pregnant!"
"So and so tried for years and then when she stopped trying she got pregnant right away!"
"There was a girl a work who adopted and then she was pregnant with twins!"
"Insert your own story of some random person who got pregnant even though it was difficult"

I'm not sure if these stories help me or make me feel worse. I think people tell them because they want to give me hope. But that person in the story and their problems (even if they have PCOS or endo), will never be the same as me and mine. What worked for them might not work for me, or for any other woman for that matter. There is no magic infertility pill. It almost feels like salt in a wound - look at these women who can get pregnant despite their problems and you can't! Unless it was someone who is currently struggling with infertility, or has struggled in the past, it seemed people just didn't know how to react.  

Overall I think I came back from my trip with a better idea of the friends I could trust, the friends I would continue to talk to, and the friends I would no longer put in the effort with. I think it's important to know who those real friends are, as they can help lighten your load and remind you that no matter what you are going through, you aren't alone. 

What Not To Say

Since starting our TTC journey in August 2014, and going through emotion after emotion and test after test, I can most definitely tell you the things NOT to say to someone with PCOS who is wishing for their rainbow baby. You might think you are being helpful or kind, but some of these comments are frustrating, hurtful, or upsetting. And most of the time we know you are just trying to be nice, and trying to find a way to make us feel better - especially if you happen to fall pregnant very easily - because you don't really know what to say. Because it was just infertility awareness week, Huff Post did an article about 27 Things People Struggling with Infertility Want You to Know. It's pretty comprehensive, so you can read women's thoughts there too. But really, it's better not to even think these phrases:

1) So when are you two planning on starting a family?
Well meaning grandmas, cousins, extended family and friends love this question. Especially if you've been with your partner for a while and all of your friends/siblings/cousins/neighbors are having their first (or second!) kid. But this question is so hard to answer, because we WANT a family now, but it's not happening. I can't just order a baby and have it arrive. And every time you ask me about kids, I feel like a failure and my heart rips a little bit more. And then I just try to hid all the feelings and smile and say, "We're trying now, it's just taking a while". You probably don't want to hear about my fertility woes, so keep this question to yourself.

2) Just relax and stop trying, it will happen soon.
Do you really think that "not trying" is the answer? Do you know anything about how someone gets pregnant? Apparently not...

3) You're so young, there's no reason to worry!
Every day you get older, your fertility decreases. So yes, I am worried. I'm worried that nearly a year ago when we started (and I was younger and more fertile) I couldn't get pregnant. So now that I'm older and I continue to get older I shouldn't worry just because in your eyes I'm "young"? Yeah. Thanks for that. 

4) You have lots of time! You practically just started trying!
In women with PCOS, we don't get 12 chances a year. With long cycles and unpredictable ovulation, we may only have a chance or two if we're lucky. Every year. Think about that probability. Does it seem like we have a lot of time?

5) Just adopt, you'll get pregnant!
Often said in a joking way, I hate this one. First, it assumes that adopting will magically make everything okay. Second, because people forget how long it takes to adopt. You might get pregnant while adopting. You might not. If you've been trying 5 years and it takes 2 more years to adopt, that's still 7 years so you might have gotten pregnant anyways. Adopting is not a magic fix-all solution. It's a wonderful one for many people, but it won't just make you pregnant.

6) It's just not your time yet, but it will be.
Is there a magic number of women who are allowed to get pregnant each month? So the quota was full this month? ARGH! But some month you assume I will, in fact, get pregnant. Can you promise me that?

7) If you stress about it, you won't get pregnant. Just enjoy it!
As one of my TTC buddies stated, all the Zen in the world is not going to regulate my hormones! Women with PCOS often can't ovulate on their own. No ovulation = no egg = no babies. I can meditate all day long, but it's not going to affect my fertility. Studies have shown acute stress might delay ovulation for a day or two, but it will not stop a woman from ovulating completely. The stress thing is just a myth, so stop repeating it!

8) You're so lucky you don't have kids yet! Enjoy "you" time/time with your husband/time to travel/sleeping in/a clean house/ etc.
When you say something like this you are telling me that I'm lucky that I don't have the one thing I long for the most. It makes me angry because it feels like you aren't grateful for what you have (even though you probably are), and that you don't understand that I already KNOW kids are a challenge and change your life completely. But I WANT that challenge and change more than anything! So no, I'm not "lucky" that I don't have kids yet (but YES I am guzzling the wine, because it dulls the pain a little!).

9) You're trying too hard! You don't need to see a doctor or get any treatment. 
Some people might worry needlessly about getting pregnant after trying for a few months. Most women without complications will fall pregnant within the first year of trying. But women with PCOS should begin intervention sooner rather than later. I'm not saying we should jump right to IVF, but you should find out what works, what doesn't and then take steps forward to make it happen. Sure, some women with PCOS might get pregnant on their own, but most won't. We need help and waiting a whole year to seek help isn't going to increase our chances of getting pregnant. 

10) My husband just looks at me and *BAM* I'm pregnant OR I was so excited I got pregnant the first month! It was so easy!
First, I'm very happy for you. I love babies and if you got the baby you wanted, that's amazing. Really. I promise I'm happy for you. But also I'm angry and jealous and frustrated. Not at you, but at the world for making it so easy for some and so difficult for others. You certainly don't need to rub more salt in my aching wound. 

So what can you say? Instead of offering advice, or telling us it will be okay, just listen. We probably need someone to talk to, someone who can just lend a sympathetic ear. Often we bombard our partners with our feelings, thoughts, hopes and dreams, but hide them from everyone else because infertility isn't something you are supposed to talk about. But we are bursting to share about it, because honestly, it is the biggest thing in our lives and we need all the support we can get. 

Any other PCOS ladies out there want to chime in with comments I've missed?

Plan of Attack

Today was the moment I have waited for since my referral in January - I had my appointment at the fertility clinic and met my new doctor!

I had no idea to expect, but this doctor has met all of my expectations, and exceeded some. He wanted to know about me - everything about me including all my past experiences, birth control, medical problems, surgeries, etc. He wanted to know our time-scale (did we want to be pregnant now? or in the future?), and when I emphatically said, "NOW!" he was poised and ready for action. 

A quick internal ultrasound (I'm getting so used to these!), and weighing in on my medical history, he made a plan of attack.

Clearly, he said, my hormones are out of whack. Clearly, I'm not going to be ovulating on my own. I'm CD 16 and, from my scans, not likely to ovulate any time in the future. So, we are going to bring on a period with Provera, then start me on Clomid with a trigger shot and constant monitoring. He wants to be as involved as possible and be able to make changes as needed throughout my next cycle.

One little set back is that it appears I am not immune to rubella, despite just getting my booster shots just last year. So I've made an appointment with my GP to get this done next week, and then I have to wait 2 weeks before starting Provera. After that, it's Clomid days 3-7, then near daily monitoring from CD day 12 onwards. When they see a follicle ready, they'll trigger its release and BAM! It's baby making time!

If that round doesn't work, they'll up the dosage on Clomid until it DOES work. And if, for some reason, it still isn't working, we'll have another meeting to find a different plan. My doctor isn't the wait and see type of person. He's trying to help me pregnant ASAP. Yay! Someone in my corner!

This is the moment I am beyond grateful that my hubby's little swimmers are superstars without a single abnormality to speak of. My tubes are clear, my uterus and lining looks good, the endometriosis is gone for now, all of my ovarian cysts are of manageable size... it kind of feels like now or never. 

So with this plan of attack, I feel so much more calm. Something will actually be happening. Not in 3-4 months, but in a few weeks. We actually, really, have a chance this time. Less guess work, more possibility! I even took my planner out to look at "how pregnant I'd be" by this date or that. Then I quickly closed the planner before I got too far ahead of myself. I've done this before - tried to plan ahead, thinking it would happen swiftly and easily - and that left me more devastated than ever. 

This is a great plan, and I'm happy to moving forward in leaps and bounds instead of inches. But I shouldn't jump to the finish line yet, nothing is promised or guaranteed. Still, I can't help but smile. Something good might be happening soon, so I'll keep up the positive thinking and cross my fingers and toes. 

Another Year Older

It's my birthday today, and I promised myself I wouldn't dwell on anything sad. Today was reserved for movies, and margaritas and friends and chocolate. So I'll allow myself just a moment of honesty before returning to my celebratory day. That's not dwelling, is it? Not if you just allow yourself a fleeting second to consider what a new year will bring?

I am not ready to be a year older. I know 29 might not seem old to most people. 

"Still in your twenties! So young! So much time!" everyone replies to me, dismissing my fears and insecurities with incredible speed.

But those of us facing fertility roadblocks don't necessarily have a lot of time. Every month counts. Every month our chances decrease.

This sounds very negative, but all I really mean to say is - I'm just not ready to get any older. I'm not ready for the challenge to get any larger. I thought by 28 I'd be pregnant and 29 be a mother. And now we have absolutely no idea when, or if, that will happen.

How naive we all are when we are younger, planning out our lives as if they were something we could plan. As if we could CHOSE when to have children. I wish I had known better then to plan better now. Sigh. Some things are just in the category of too little, too late. Baby planning, it seems, is one of those.

So I'm not ready to be 29 - one year closer to thirty - because it only means more difficulty. And wasn't this year difficult and heartbreaking enough?

But who knows, maybe this year will be my miracle year. Maybe everything will work out and go right and something amazing will happen. 

Maybe, just maybe, 29 will be the best year yet. And then I won't mind being another year older. 

All the Options

Today, sitting around recovering from my laparoscopic surgery and being a completely useless lump, I stumbled from one website to another to try to pass the time. I've found my pain meds make me spacey, so I'm taking off a bit of time for work. Free time = too much thinking = too much internet searching = depressing. 

At first I was just looking to find success stories from other ladies who had both PCOS and endometriosis. Let me tell you, the results were not very promising. Then one click lead to another (you know how the internet is), and I was reading an article about what three women did when faced with infertility.

The first woman decided treatment wasn't for her, and she made peace with never being a mother. I know that this is something that will never be okay with me.

The second woman decided to say no to invasive treatments due to recurrent miscarriages, and miraculously ended up pregnant on her own. Hurray! Success for someone!

The third woman decided to opt for adoption, and fell pregnant two more times after. This helps reinforce that myth that if you want to be pregnant, just adopt!

These stories got me on to thinking how far down the rabbit hole I want to go with this whole infertility deal. Am I up for being poked and prodded and stuffed full of drugs? And then after all of that, it may not work? I guess for now, my answer is yes - I am willing to try everything: up to and including IVF. Becoming a mom has always been a dream of mine, right up there with finding the love of my life (check), becoming a teacher (check), and traveling the world (check). 

And then my mind went on to the "what if...?" How many years am I going to try drugs and treatments and invasive surgeries? How many years should you hold on to hope and keep trying? At what point do you decide, "This isn't going to happen"? After all, our chances get worse every year as egg quality declines - how much torture should we subject ourselves to?

I'm not going to lie, a small part of me is absolutely terrified by the "what ifs". I have to remember that maybe everything will be okay before I have to face most of these options. But then again, maybe it won't be okay. In life, nothing is guaranteed. 

Since I want more than anything to be a mom, is adoption ever going to be an answer for me? I know it is a wonderful thing to offer a child a home, but it isn't a cure-all bandaid for infertility. I can't just adopt a child and pretend like I never wanted to grow a baby in my tummy, to create a child that's half me and half my husband. How do people even make this decision, I asked myself. And would my husband ever want to adopt? Adopting a child is a decision two have to make, and it's a pretty big decision that also says, "We gave up."

And then, because I'm clearly trying to make my life as miserable as possible, I started looking up adoption protocol in Scotland. Approval times (long), home visits (many), matching (stressful), it could all take years and still might end in heartbreak. The chances of getting a baby are extremely slim, and at the risk of sounding selfish, I really want a baby. I don't want my first time as a mommy to start with a four-year-old who can already walk and talk. I always kept adoption in the back of my mind as an option, but now - I'm just not so sure. 

One of the things that has kept me sane for the last few months was knowing there were more options out there for me. So I'm going to pull back from the adoption option for a while and look at all the wonderful miraculous options that science has to offer those of us who struggle with infertility.

• Surgery - Depending on the need, some women undergo laparscopic surgery to fix known or suspected problems. A woman with PCOS may undergo ovarian drilling - when your cysts are popped and drained. Or if you are suspected to have adhesions, blocked tubes, or endometriosis, the doctors may go in to clear the way and dispose of any problems they find. Some women claim that after laparascopy and an HSG you are "superfertile" because everything is free and clear for the sperm to meet egg. This hasn't been proven in any medical journals of course, but I'll take positive news wherever I can get it.  
• Drugs - Usually the first step after tests confirm whatever fertility issue you have, because they are the least invasive. For PCOS, many women are prescribed metformin (Glucophage) which regulates the amount of glucose in your blood and seems to help shorten cycles. Then Clomid (clomiphene) is often prescribed to induce ovulation. Sometimes this requires monitoring through ultrasounds and blood tests to confirm ovulation. It seems the general consensus is to find the lowest dosage that results in ovulation, and only try for 6 cycles. Some women do not ovulate on Clomid, and so Femara (letrozole) can be tried. This seems to be the end of the road for the simple, oral fertility drugs. 
• Injections - There are a range of different injectable drugs (Gonal-F, GnRH, HcG, and many more), each stimulating something different. The doctors choose the right cocktail of drugs for your situation, but in general they affect your levels of LH and FSH to induce ovulation. Some doctors avoid injectables because of the higher chance of multiple births and their high cost. It seems success rates are similar to oral drugs, but injectables might be successful where oral medication was not.
• Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) - Commonly used for unexplained fertility or mild known infertility factors, and often in conjunction with either oral medication or injections, an IUI is the placement of washed and concentrated semen directly into the uterus. Timing is important, and the rates of pregnancy aren't spectacular, but it is an affordable option. 
• IVF - Often the last stop on the infertility train, IVF ranks quite high in cost, invasiveness, and success. Some clinics boast as high a success rate as 60% live births per cycle! This is a process involving drugs to stimulate egg production, then egg retrieval, then the actual injection of a sperm into an egg (or allowing sperm to penetrate egg in a petri dish), then the placement of the embryo (or embryos) back into the woman. I am lucky in that the NHS covers three rounds of IVF for a woman without any children in cases of infertility. 

Even though sometimes I feel like I will never be able to fall pregnant, I am so grateful that there is an entire list of options that I haven't tried yet. I'm just at the beginning of the road, and although some of the options seem big and scary, at least I have options. PCOS and endometriosis can be daunting, but at least I know what I'm dealing with and I can charge straight at it head on. I don't know what the future will bring, but today I'm feeling cautiously optimistic and I'm holding on tightly to that little ball of hope inside. 

It's two days until my meeting at the fertility clinic, and armed with my piles of research, only good things can come. It's a long dark road ahead of me, but I think I might just be able to see some light at the end of it.

No Rainbows, Just Rain

When you think of Scotland, what do you imagine? Castles? Kilts? Bagpipes? Most people think of the weather - cold, grey, and rainy. I have to say, most of the time that isn't true. I've had so many beautiful, blue sky days since moving here and the rain seems to only appear overnight and disappear in the day.

Today is an exception. It's raining outside just the way you'd expect from a country this far north. As I sipped my cup of tea this morning and thought about where I am in this journey, I wondered if the weather was mirroring how I felt.

First and foremost, I feel sadness. The kind of deep, immeasurable sadness that wells up when you're not expecting it. The diagnosis of endometriosis still has me reeling. The fact that there is no way to stop it and only surgery or pregnancy to treat it has added new layers of stress to my already gigantic pile. Isn't having PCOS enough for one person? I can't ovulate properly, but now I get to have constant abdominal pain that will interfere with falling pregnant and staying pregnant? 

Then I think - what else is wrong with me?

And the rain falls steadily, inside and outside. Hovering, menacing, iron-grey clouds hang over me. I try to push it back down, cover the sadness with my list.

Every day I make a list of the things I am grateful for. It reminds me of everything I have now and keeps me focused on the positives. The list is seemingly endless; I'm thankful for my house, my neighborhood, my neighbors, my job, my family, my friends, my (mostly) strong and healthy body, my past experiences, my travel, clean water, good food, interesting books, my education... I could just keep writing. Sometimes I even go through my friends and family one by one, thinking of how each person has brought joy and happiness into my life. 

And this list pushes back down the sadness and the darkness for a small while. It reminds me there is more to me and my life than just trying to fall pregnant. It's enough for me to catch my breath and try ignore that deep pain. 

If you're struggling with infertility too, you know the pain. I don't need to describe it to you, because you know and feel this pain everyday. If you aren't struggling with infertility, the words could never describe it. I'm not trying to belittle other types of pain - there is a whole buffet of pain out there, all with its own flavors and subtleties and none necessarily easier to bear than others. But the pain from infertility can only be understood by those experiencing it and it's a club I never intended to join.

Howling wind screeches past my window as the harsh pounding of raindrops continues. I'm in the stormy part of my journey, I tell myself. Intervention (and hopefully success), will be here someday, but isn't here yet. It's something I have to tell myself over and over to keep my hope up. Because in infertility, there are no guarantees. It might rain and rain and rain and rain... with no rainbows. 

It's a healing, waiting, hoping game for now. As the rain drives down, ever more forceful, I just have to remember that without the rain there wouldn't even be a chance of rainbows. And that little bit of hope is enough for now as I sit here, wishing for my rainbow.

HSG, Laproscopy, and Endometriosis - Another Roadblock

Well, this is the place where I update, so here I am.

Before I start, I guess I should preface this with the fact that I don't expect anyone to be reading this. Included here the gross, personal, nitty gritty facts that come with TTC. It's not very interesting, or fun, or nice. It's just real life, real situations, and I need an outlet, somewhere to share. And here it is, my very own little personal space. If it helps you with TTC, or understanding me and my journey, then more power to it. 

Exploratory Lap and HSG

I went in for an exploratory laparoscopy on Tuesday, April 28th. At the same time they would be performing an HSG to check the shape of my uterus and that my fallopian tubes were open and not blocked from my previous torsions. The doctors and nurses were great at checking me in, explaining my procedure, and prepping me for surgery. I would be under general anesthesia, so I wouldn't feel any pain while it was happening. 

Fast forward 3 hours after the surgery, and I'm still in recovery but very, very out of it. One doctor is explaining something to me as I feel like I'm floating away on a cloud. I fall in and out of sleep as they move me into the main ward. I feel nauseous, so I try to eat a bit of toast. Almost vomit. Manage not to. Sleeping again. 

Wake up in the middle of the night for more shots (2 of them), a bathroom run, and a low blood pressure warning from my arm cuff. Nurse turns off machines. Back into dreamless sleep.

Wake up again at 6am for temperatures, meds, blood pressure, incision site check. All looks good. Back to sleep. Wake up again - breakfast time. Manage to eat, then almost vomit, but don't (yay?). Sleeping on and off, can't focus, read, or watch anything. Lunch arrives. I eat it and feel almost normal. Another small nap, then more checks (temps, blood pressure, meds).

The doctors come by for post-op rounds. There are 6 doctors around me, but I only recognize one from my pre-op. They tell me the surgery was successful. I have stage 1 (mild) endometriosis, and that they cleared away all the spots they found. They also cleared away several adhesions, and now my uterus looks great and my fallopian tubes are open. That part is good news. My ovaries, both of them, are completely riddled with cysts. They say this matter of fact, but I tell them at my most recent scan my right ovary did not appear to have any cysts. They dismiss this and tell me that scans aren't always clear enough and that both ovaries are polycystic. Great. 

My follow up will be done at my fertility clinic appointment next week. They leave, and I get one more round of temps, meds, blood pressure, a shower where they check my incision points (2 of which are still bleeding), and then discharged. 

I am still floating on a cloud of meds as I walk myself out of the hospital and to the parking lot where my friend is waiting to take me home. Did I mention my husband is out of town at a business meeting? Five months hanging around at home and the one week he leaves, I have surgery. I can't blame him - he was booked for the trip before my surgery was. But that means I'm home alone post-op, trying to keep it together. I slept nearly 12 hours last night, and while I woke up with a higher than usual (for me) temperature, and a bit of continued bleeding, I seem okay. My stomach is sore at the three incision points and achey in general inside my abdomen, and I feel like a space-cadet, but these are all normal things after a surgery. I just have to allow myself time for rest and recovery.

Most of all, I guess I am still reeling from the diagnosis of endometriosis. I knew I had PCOS, and I had come to terms with that. But endo is a completely different, but just as difficult, problem. It means my uterine lining is growing outside my uterus. There is no cure for it, and often it gets worse as you get older. This is the reason I have had abdominal pain for the last 4 months. The only way to stop endo seems to be pregnancy. But endo makes it more difficult to get pregnant. So does PCOS. Each of them in their own way set up another roadblock for me, another barrier towards my rainbow. I have done a bit of research (who doesn't) and can't seem to find much on women with both PCOS and endometriosis. It's one or the other it seems - but what if you have both?

I try to focus on the positives - Tubes are open! Uterus looks good! Endometriosis spots and adhesions have been cleared away (for now)! Things are moving forward! But it's not always easy to stay positive. And I can't pretend all the time. Sometimes I just have to allow myself to grieve a bit. I'll be 29 next week, another reminder of how long this process is taking. 

*Deep breath*. Focus on the positives. Keep it together. Things could be worse, right? *More deep breathing* I think it might be time for another nap.

One Inch At A Time

In a "normal" woman's cycle, which lasts an average of 28 days, ovulation occurs on day 14 and then you cross your fingers for 2 weeks while you wait to find out if you were successful that round. If it's positive, GREAT! If it's negative, oh well, you only have to wait two more weeks to try again.

Now I have yet to meet someone with a perfectly "normal" cycle, but I would say the majority of women fit into this basic pattern. I, sadly, am not one of them. Instead of ovulating every 28 days, my body gears up to ovulate several times, but never quite succeeds due to a lack in the proper hormones (estrogen and progesterone) and an overproduction of the wrong hormones (androgens). This is a two-fold whammy. First, it leads to delayed ovulation and incredibly long cycles. I don't mean a 35-40 day cycle. I mean more in the 90-120 day cycles - 3 to 4 months worth of waiting. The second problem is that each time an egg is not released, it decreases in quality. This means that when it is, in fact, released, it is less likely to result in pregnancy. And then women with PCOS have a higher chance of miscarriage, gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, and premature diabetes. Well isn't PCOS just filled with sunshine and butterflies and rainbows of good news?

My doctor recommend I decrease my BMI from 25 to 22, as losing weight and eating healthy are two of the best lifestyle changes to increase the chance of ovulation. I have been exercising more and eating very healthy, so now it's just going to take time to see the changes. As I said before, I am a "lean PCOS" because my BMI is in the normal range but I still may have too much insulin in my body, making it difficult to lose weight and causes even more problems. But my recent decrease in weight means...

... I was lucky enough to *finally* ovulate on my own on April 8. My temperatures increased and stayed increased for 13 days before AF arrived. This is great news for two reasons:

1) I am actually, in fact, ovulating (even if it is very very late)
2) My luteal phase (LP), the second part of the cycle, is long enough to sustain a pregnancy

For us PCOS girls, ovulating on your own is a cause for celebration in itself. Most women end up needing treatment to cause their cycles to end, but I was lucky enough to start a new cycle myself. Hurray! (popping a bottle of champagne now!)

So after celebrating my ovulation, I had that tortuous "two week wait" - the time between ovulating and testing. I even had a slew of symptoms, like most women do, which could by PMS or pregnancy. I threw up several times for no apparent reason, so I was very hopeful. Unfortunately, this cycle was not the one but for now I'm enjoying little victories. And the throwing up? Hubby and I both have some kind of stomach bug and neither of us have felt well for over a week, so that explains that.

The best news now is that I have had a pre-op appointment and have just been scheduled for my actual surgery on Tuesday. Yay! That's months before I expected to be fit in, moving things along nicely. The doctors will be doing an HSG, which is where dye is squirted through your tubes to check if they are open. If they aren't the doctors go in to remove any blockages. With my history of torsions, it is quite likely they are blocked, so even if I ovulate on my own, it couldn't get through to be fertilized. They are also going in laparoscopically to check out the condition and location of my ovaries. My left ovary is still riddled with cysts, but my right ovary is cyst-free and smaller than they think it should be. This could be from my previous surgery when they had to cut through my ovary to take out the cyst. Either way, I should come out of the surgery with more answers and at the very least information for my fertility clinic appointment - which is in just two weeks! 

Although I am disappointed with not falling pregnant after the last never-ending cycle, at least something is happening. We aren't just sitting around, twiddling our thumbs, waiting for my hormones to magically regulate themselves. I am so grateful for the NHS, my doctors, and the treatment I have been receiving. I appreciate being proactive and moving forward, one inch at a time. 

Keep Living Your Life

Once you decide it's time to have a baby, it can be a very stressful time in your life. When you are trying to conceive (TTC), you are warned to always behave as if you were, in fact, pregnant already. Some doctors recommend not drinking any alcohol, decreasing physical activity, taking prenatal vitamins, decreasing travel, etc. This is to provide the best chances for your baby, should you indeed fall pregnant. But what about those women that take years to get pregnant? Should they act as if they are pregnant for years? Then your entire life revolves around this one thing, that may not change for a long while. 

I had been hesitant to sign up for anything or plan any trip in the early months of TTC. I kept thinking to myself, maybe I'll be pregnant by then, so I shouldn't waste my money on that! By now, I've become a bit more rational and realized you have to just keep living your life. If you don't, you can end up obsessing and feeling really depressed about actually doing anything with your life while you are waiting. 

As for me, I've just signed up for a half marathon and a half ironman. One of my doctors has recommended I get down to a BMI of 22 (!) so races are a good way to have a goal to reach while decreasing my weight. Apparently, losing body fat can trigger ovulation in women with PCOS. I am one of the lucky ones, a "lean" PCOS with an acceptable BMI. These races aren't only good for decreasing my weight, they are also giving me something to look forward to. I've decided that, worst case scenario, I can just pull out of the race. It will mean I lose some money - but if I'm pregnant, I don't think I'll mind much. I'm also looking into a few local trips to take - things I'd like to do one last time pre-baby. Like a trip to Cinque Terre, Italy, or a weekend visit to Croatia. In fact, I'm taking recommendations for travel in Europe if anyone has any ideas! 

Finishing my first half-ironman!

If you're reading this because it is also taking you longer than you thought to conceive and you are wishing for your rainbow, how do you keep living your life? That glass of wine with dinner (savoring it and wondering if it might be your last), that soak in the hot tub, that exotic beach vacation? Because while TTC can really affect your current life, you shouldn't have to stop living. 

You Have to Start Somewhere

Look around your home. Is your life what you thought it would be? Is anybody's life what they thought it would be? As children (and okay, even as a young adult) we have an idea of where we want to be and WHO we want to be when we "grow up". Hah. Grow up. What does it even mean to "grow up"? And when will we get to this magical land of grown-up-ness? Sorry, I digress. What I'm trying to say is that we often find ourselves in a place that we didn't expect to be.

Take me, for example. I never thought I'd be living in Scotland with my British husband working in an online-school, but those are all good surprises. I love my home and my work and my community, and I love living close to at least part of my family. But there is a part of my life that is missing, that I thought would be here by now. Or if not be here, then be on its way to here. Unfortunately it looks like it's going to take a lot longer than we hoped.

Have you guessed what I'm talking about yet?

Yep, that's right. Babies. Or rather, just one baby for now. We should have known it wasn't going to be easy, but it looks like it's going to be harder than we'd like.

And since you have to start somewhere, I'm going to start here. I need someone to vent to besides my poor husband, and I don't want to continually pester my busy friends who are already moms or who have a lot on their own plate already. I find writing very therapeutic, even if no one is going to read it. I've made a new blog specifically for this purpose, so I don't mix up my everyday life with this struggle we are going through.

So where do I start? I guess I can back it up a few years for those of you who don't know me. I had my first sign of trouble in 2011 when a large cyst on my ovary burst. It felt like someone was trying to gut me with a knife, the pain was so intense. I waited in an ER for hours in a hospital in Switzerland (where I was living at the time) before the scan showed the burst cyst and the fluid in my abdomen. There was so much fluid that it made it difficult to breathe so I had to stay upright in bed for a few days. I merrily moved on with my life, not thinking much about it until...

The next time I wasn't so lucky. In 2012, I felt the familiar stabbing, shuddering pain of a cyst and nearly didn't seek medical treatment because the cost was too high. The last time we had paid thousands for a short stay in the hospital - and it wasn't like they could even do anything for me. A kind friend convinced me (read: screamed at me until I gave in), that I should go see someone. Reluctantly I did, and when the doctor discovered a 6cm cyst on my ovary and a torsion of my fallopian tube, I was extremely grateful I had. I was immediately rushed to surgery to remove the cyst and untwist the tube and all seemed well. I was given my first warning then - if I wanted kids I should start trying... now! But I was only 25 and newly married and too busy for kids. So I waited.

A year passed, and another cyst appeared. It seemed to have burst before causing problems, and again, I was hospitalized. There seems to be a theme here....

My doctor at the time put me on Depo-provera as a way to control the large, reoccurring cysts. Depo-provera is an injectable birth control that is taken every 12 weeks. I was okay with using it at the time because kids were still in the future, and it decreased my chances of cysts. I stopped taking injections in December 2013, knowing that it could take 9 months to leave my system.

We continued to use a different form of birth control through August of the next year, because we were taking anti-malarial pills while we were in Africa and it is important to avoid pregnancy at that time. Then, we were off of them - huzzah! - and hoping to bring back a little souvenir from our trip in the form of a baby.

That was 8 months ago, and just yesterday the doctor has positively confirmed my diagnosis of Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome, or PCOS. My last doctor tentatively diagnosed me, but never followed through with any of the additional tests. I've had a recent scan that shows one ovary riddled with small cysts, and my other ovary looks small but normal. The cysts in conjunction with my never ending cycle (it's day 102 or something ridiculous like that), confirms my diagnosis. PCOS means I create cysts instead of releasing eggs, which makes it very hard to get pregnant. My doctor seemed optimistic about my chances as he believes fertility drugs are very likely to work for me, as long as my fallopian tubes aren't damaged.

Now I'm onto my first step in the infertility process. I have been referred for a laproscopic surgery to investigate the state of my ovaries and fallopian tubes. That should be sometime in the next 10-12 weeks, and we'll go from there. My wonderful GP has already referred us to the fertility clinic, and we should be notified about an appointment in the next few weeks. This is all good news, because it means we are at least being seen and taking the necessary steps. But it's also big and scary, with possibly a long road ahead of us. I know some things are on my side - I'm still relatively young and at a good BMI - but sometimes I just feel helpless and frustrated and angry. I try to keep a positive attitude, but it doesn't always happen. I guess that's a normal part of the process too.

At the beginning of this post I asked if your life was what you thought it would be. For me, I had this thought as I walked through my exceptionally quiet and clean kitchen. Hubby and I bought this house to have a family in, but as of now its just us. For me, it is too quiet and too clean. I thought by now I'd be preparing for a little one to join us in our big empty house, but now, who knows how long until that dream is a reality. There's a saying people use in the TTC (trying to conceive) community, especially the infertility sections. They say they are wishing for their rainbow baby. The baby that comes after all the stress and unhappiness and anger and frustration and the feeling that it will never, ever happen. The baby that brightens the sky and reminds you of the good that can come from the bad. Often since moving to this lovely house, I catch myself looking out the window and wishing for my rainbow to appear.