Ok, so I just agreed to do the one thing that I did not ever ever ever want to do ever again. Another c-section for me. Post-partum, not fun. Newborns, not fun. Cute, for sure, but so exhausting. Bring on the overwhelming painful and sacrificing 18 months. I’m ready.
I pretty much just assumed that I would get pregnant on the first try. I just knew God was going to make me do this. Afterall, Chad really wanted another baby. And I was actually agreeing to it and being obedient and submissive. I deserve a pat on the back. My self-righteousness here is ridiculous.
One month passes. No Aunt Flo. Woohoo! Start taking pregnancy tests like they’re candy. Negative.
Two months pass. No Aunt Flo. Yay! More tests. More negative.
Three months pass. No Aunt Flo. And no baby. Hm, maybe there’s something going on here. Call it a woman’s intuition, but I just knew there was something wrong. Ugh. That nagging feeling that says, just call the doctor to make sure. We’d always gotten pregnant in about 3 months before.
Four months pass. Start the doctor visits. Strange thing happens. Like a switch, actually. I was pregnant. Well, not by the test results yet, but I always knew instantly when I was pregnant. It was too early to test. And then something happened and I wasn’t pregnant. I don’t exactly have an MD after my name so I can’t give you a certain diagnosis, but either that little one didn’t implant or I miscarried super early. To say we were disappointed would be an understatement.
Ultrasounds and bloodwork confirm a diagnosis of Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. My ovaries are full of cysts. My hormones are out of whack. And a whole host of other issues to go along with it. I’ll spare you the gory details. Aren’t I sweet? But suffice it to say that I’m a mess. And, now there’s more bloodwork to do. My least favorite thing in the whole world. But, I did it. 2 hours + in a doctor’s office, a finger prick, and 4 sticks. I didn’t pass out!!! Now there’s a miracle, folks!
My body doesn’t seem to want to ovulate on it’s own. I started taking Metformin to help with that. Still no Aunt Flo. That’s not cool. A round of Progesterone to convince my body to do the right thing. The womanly thing.
Five months pass. Negative. Oh, and if you had any interactions with me during this time, I sincerely apologize. It wasn’t pretty. I was an exhausted hormonal mess that could barely function. Thank goodness for the grace my close friends and family gave me.
Six months and we’re nearing the shortest parameter. I’m more a mess and more exhausted by each passing day. This may not happen for us. More negative. I think the time has come to revisit the doctor. Seriously, I apologize if you had dealings with me during this time…I was so exhausted and wrecked that I simply cannot be held responsible for my actions during that time. Hormones are serious business and can impact one in ways that I didn’t know were possible. I learned a lot about grace and I’m so thankful for Jesus and the people he gave me to walk through that. I actually like grace. (But that’s a topic for another day. Soon, though, I think.