From Barren to Bearing in 35 Days or Less

Ok, so I found out that I have broken ovaries (and might I add, learning that you have infertility issues is rather difficult news to hear… its more like being handed a grenade with the pin already pulled).  There is a part of you that still has hope though, so my next question was, “where do we go from here?”.

I asked my doctor what the best treatment for PCOS was.

“Birth control, definitely birth control”, was his response.

Uh…. Hold your horses there boss.  In case you haven’t noticed, Doc, the word “birth control” in and of itself means “baby prevention”, which was the exact opposite of what I had been trying to do.  Thankfully, we came up with a plan.. one that did not involve birth control.

The very first step in the plan was for me to lose some weight (story of my life).  After going off birth control I had gained quite a bit of weight.  I hadn’t changed anything in my diet, but I packed on the pounds (a lovely symptom of PCOS).   

With PCOS your body has difficulty processing sugars, so my doctor put me on low carb, low sugar diet.  It is impossible to not lose weight when you cannot eat sweets, bread and potatoes.  Try it if you don’t believe.  I was also put on the medication Metformin, which is normally used to treat diabetics; it helped my body process sugars better.  It has also been rumored to aid in fertility, but it has not been medically proven.   Its one of those old wives tales sort of things.

Then each month, I did the following, which I like to call:

The Steps… “From barren to bearing in 35 days or less” (if you’re lucky)

Step 1 – Take Progesterone, to force the body to have (eh hem) a period

Step 2 – Take Clomid to make ovaries work

Step 3 – Take Estrogen to aide the Clomid in doing its job

Step 4 – Use Ovulation Tests to figure out when ovulation will occur

Step 5 - Have sex … frequently

Step 6 - Wait

Each month I would wait, then wait, and then wait some more.  A normal woman’s cycle is 28 -35 days, so if I hadn’t started my period by day 35, I was to take a pregnancy test. 

The first round of “The Steps” was very exciting.  When I hadn’t started by day 28, I was thrilled!!!  I thought to myself “Could this really have worked with the first try?!”  I remember taking that first pregnancy test, waiting anxiously by myself in the bathroom, too nervous to look at the results.  When I finally mustered up the courage and saw a big fat “Not Pregnant”, I was crushed.  I was embarrassed too.  How could I have been so naive to think this would work in only one shot?  I buried the pregnancy test deep in the trash can, I never wanted to see it again.

When the test comes back negative, you get to embark on the journey of “The Steps” all over again.   It’s awesome (not).

The more times I had to complete “The Steps” the more discouraged and depressed I got.  I became very bitter and angry.  The things that made me more angry than anything on the earth at that time were: the TV show “Teen Mom” and seeing people in similar situations, people complaining about their terrible children, women complaining about their pregnancies, abusive parents, and abortion.

It is so easy to take for granted the things that we have.  Sometimes we don’t realize how good we’ve got it.  So, while things weren’t working out the way I had “planned”, I did feel like I had gained a greater appreciation for the things I DID have in my life.

One thing I have been very grateful for throughout this entire process has been the convenience of modern medicine.  Had I lived a few hundred years ago… heck even just 60 years ago, I would have been considered a barren woman with no hope of ever having children of her own.  The reproductive hormone estrogen wasn’t discovered until the 1920s, and testosterone in the 1930s.  Clomid was FINALLY introduced in the 1960s… we’ve come a long way.

It is impossible to describe or explain the emotions a woman who is experiencing infertility goes through.  At the end of each day I would find myself reeling after getting off of an emotional rollercoaster of sorts.  There were breathtaking highs, the very lowest or lows, and everything in-between.

Finally, I got to the point where I was ready to be done with the whole thing.

Stockton

I have to take a break from back logging for a moment to discuss the happenings of yesterday.

My cat Stockton and I have this routine, you see.  Every morning, I wake up to find my cute little cat lying on the floor of my room at the foot of my bed.  As soon as my feet hit the ground, he gets up.  He races me to the kitchen (he always wins, because I am WAY too groggy to even try to race… also, races are dumb).  As Stockton celebrates his victory, I get him his breakfast… a little bowl full of cat food.  While Stockton chows down, I get ready for the day.  Once I’m ready and about to leave for work, I let him out the back door so he can frolic outside while the Husband and I are at work.  That’s our routine.  It really works well for us.

Well, yesterday morning was just like any other morning.  Stockton raced me to the kitchen, I gave him his food, I let him eat in peace while I got ready.  While I’m in the bathroom, putting my face on (I love that term, by the way, “putting my face on”… makes me feel like an old lady from the south), I hear a terrible noise.  It sounded like someone was madly plunging a very clogged toilet… only the noise was coming from my kitchen.  Just so you know, I don’t have a toilet in my kitchen.

I stuck my head out of the bathroom, mascara wand in hand and asked the Husband “What is that horrible noise?”  The Husband, who was still in bed, just rolled over.

I ran out to the kitchen to see Stockton, hunched over, dry heaving like I’ve never seen a cat dry heave before.  I screamed at the cat, “No Stockton, don’t do it!!!”  He took a brief moment to look up at me, then barfed everywhere.

Something you should know about me: I don’t do barf.  I myself have only vomited a handful of times in my life.  It’s foreign to me.  I don’t like things that I don’t understand.  Thankfully, I have the Husband.  He can handle the barf.  I’m sure he doesn't find cleaning up our cat’s breakfast enjoyable… but he does it because he’s brave and he loves me.

After kicking Stockton out of the house, I ran to the Husband and promptly let him know he had some vomit to clean up.  Goodness I married a good man!

Fast forward now to the end of the day.  I get home from work and see that the Husband is also home.  I’m talking to my mom on the phone as I open our front door.  The door slowly swings open and I find Stockton at the top of the stairs (the Husband must have let him in).  We stare at each other for a moment.  He has this look in his eyes, and I just know what’s going to happen next.  “Stockton!”  I shout, “Don't you dare do it!!!!” and then the toilet plunger noise starts up again.  I start screaming “Stockton!!!” over and over again as I race up the stairs (still on the phone with my mother).  I get to the top of the stairs and try to push him with my foot.  “Please Stockton, don’t do it!  At least move onto the tile… not on the carpet, please, please, not on the carpet!”  But Stockton won’t budge… and then he barfs.

I tiptoe around the vomit and force the poor cat outside (mom is still on the phone, do doubt convinced her daughter is a maniac).  I find the Husband in the bathroom.  I knock on the bathroom door, “Honey, you have more barf to clean up”.  All the Husband can say is “great”. 

Poor Stockton was quarantined outside for the rest of the evening and all night long.  I just couldn’t stand the thought of more cat barf in my house.  The toilet plunger noise would NOT leave my mind.  Am I a bad pet owner?  I think maybe I am… and the sad part is that I'm ok with it.

Broken Ovaries

I called my doctor’s office to make an appointment.  I think at this point I was still slightly in denial, because when they asked me what the appointment was for, I responded with “Oh, just an annual check-up”, very nonchalantly.  Bad idea, Torrey, BAD IDEA!!! 

FYI (if you are ever faced with this scenario): When you say “Oh, just an annual check-up”, your doctor’s office suddenly doesn’t have time to see you for at least a month. Nice.

Later, once I finally got in to see the doctor, I was scolded for not telling the receptionist my REAL issue, I could have had an appointment for the next day.  Oh those doctors are very trixie, they are.

As every woman knows, there is nothing at all glamorous about going to the “Gyno”.  You are forced to talk about things that you would normally never tell even your nearest and dearest friends.  You then strip down to nothing and are asked to put on a hideous gown that’s been worn by hundreds of other women to cover your lady parts.  You then get to put your legs in the stirrups while people you don’t even know get all up in your biz-nez.  To top it all off, you are poked and prodded, inspected and then re-inspected… and you’re supposed to be “ok” with it all.  Yeah… right.

As you can imagine, I was thrilled to be at the doctor’s that day.  I gave the doc a run down of my “woman” history, I wore the ugly gown, I put my legs in those stirrups, and I allowed myself to be poked, prodded, inspected and re-inspected.  FINALLY (after several additional pokings, proddings and tests), I was given a diagnosis: PCOS.

PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome) = Broken Ovaries

For those of you who aren’t familiar with PCOS (I’m pretty sure only women who actually have PCOS are familiar with it), here is a run down of what’s what from Web MD (this is as close as I can get to a real doctor’s explanation):

 “Polycystic ovary syndrome is a problem in which a woman’s hormones are out of balance.  It can cause problems with your periods and make it difficult to get pregnant.  PCOS may also cause unwanted changes in the way you look.  If it is not treated, over time it can lead to serious health problems, such a diabetes and heart disease.”

AND:

“When the hormones that trigger ovulation are not at the right levels, the ovary does not release an egg every month.  In some women, cysts form on the ovaries.  These cysts make androgen.  High androgen in a woman causes male-type hair and acne problems and can stop ovulation.  About half of women with PCOS have a problem with how the body uses insulin, called insulin resistance.  When the body doesn’t use the insulin well, blood sugar builds to high levels.  If not treated, this can lead to diabetes.”

Sounds fun, huh? 

Now, this is my favorite part.  Here is a list of the symptoms for PCOS.  As my doc was telling me each of these symptoms, I was giving a mental “check” to each one and I was thinking “If I had known about these symptoms, I could have diagnosed myself forever ago”. 

PCOS Symptoms:

* Acne (check, though not extreme, which I am grateful for)

* Extra hair on the face and body (check!)

* Weight gain and trouble losing weight (double check!)

* Thinning hair on the scalp (check!)

* Irregular periods (check!)

* Fertility problems (check!)

* Depression (check!)

Finding out I had PCOS (aka, broken ovaries) was actually quite a relief.  Its like when you’re a kid and you find out that Santa is not real (sorry to spill the beans everyone).  Although you feel like your world has fallen apart, it makes sense.  You had always wondered why Santa used the same wrapping paper as your parents, how on earth one man could get presents out to children all over the world in a single night, how anyone could ever fit down a chimney… the elves and the flying reindeer, the north pole.  But once you knew the truth, it all made sense (whether you were happy about it or not).

Ok, so I found out that I had broken ovaries.  My next question was, “where do we go from here?”

The Calm Before the Storm

**This blog post has the potential to make some people a little uncomfortable.  If you are uncomfortable talking about a woman’s body… you should probably skip over this post... and probably several posts to come**

When you finally make that leap from “wish I could have a baby” to “trying to make a baby”, it is like embarking on an exciting adventure.  You jump at the opportunity to “get busy” with your partner.  It’s even more exciting and fun than it’s ever been, because every time you think to yourself “is this the time a little spermy will find an egg?”  Every time you feel a twinge of nausea, you rush to the store for a pregnancy test.  You are absolutely on edge each month as you wait for Mother Nature to pay her monthly visit and you excitedly hope and pray she’ll skip on by.  Sometimes (when you're alone), you stuff a pillow under your shirt to see how cute you'd look pregnant.

Trust me... we've all done it.  If you haven't, I applaud you on your self control.

It’s all so fun and exciting!!!  Only, I had one major problem.  You see, my whole life I’ve never had a regular menstrual cycle.  I didn’t even start until I was 15 or 16.  I guess you could say I was an incredibly late bloomer in that department (even though I had been wearing a bra since 4^th grade).  FYI- the average age for a girl to get her first period is 12 years old.  Even once I finally DID get my period, it came in very irregular intervals.  I could go months and months without one… sometimes even a year.  Of course, as a teenager I saw this as a huge blessing.  I thought life couldn’t get any better, especially after hearing horror stories from all of my friends about their monthly cycle.

I have always been an incredibly private person about my body (obviously, I’m opening up about this all now… but as a teenager I would rather DIE than have to talk to my mom about woman stuff).  I didn’t even tell my mom when I had my first period.  I kept it all very quiet, I mean, it was MY personal business anyway, why should I have to tell anyone about it?  My point here is that I’m sure that if I had kept my mom in the know about my bodily functions, we would have pinpointed my problem much earlier.

When I got married and was put on birth control, my cycle was VERY regular.  This was because birth control forces you to have a period each month.  I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this, but I finally came to terms with it.  I figured, every other woman on earth has to have a monthly period, and I was now no exception.

And, here is where the problem came in… I went off birth control to make this baby I had wanted all of these years… but my body refused to comply.  Word to the wise: You cannot have a baby unless you first have a period.  For those who may be a little new to this whole “how to make a baby” thing, here’s a brief description of how it all works: 

Each month a woman’s ovaries release an egg into the fallopian tube (in hopes that it will be fertilized).  Up until this point, rising Estrogen levels have caused the walls of a woman’s uterus to thicken in preparation for a little fertilized egg to make a home there.  Whilst in the fallopian tube, the egg has the opportunity to get fertilized (this is where the sperm comes into play).  The egg then travels down into the uterus.  A fertilized egg will (hopefully) attach to the uterine wall, while a non-fertilized egg breaks apart.  When your egg doesn’t get fertilized, your body realizes its not going to have a baby, so the thickened lining of the uterus is no longer needed and thus evacuates the body.

Romantic, I know.  This “no period thing” went on for many, many (FAR too many) months.  Finally my best friend convinced me to go see my doctor to figure out what the heck was going on.  So, I went… and my baby journey took a dramatic turn for the worst.

The “First Few Years”

Next came the years of partying it up as childless married folk.  Although I was haunted by constant reminders of babies on a daily basis, I was reassured by the thought that my question of “help us know when we should start a family”, had yet to be answered.

The other night I was listening to my friends (marriage veterans) discuss how “so and so” had such a difficult first year of marriage.  Another friend (also a marriage veteran) piped in and stated, “Those first few years are always the hardest for everyone”.  I sat there, taking in those sweeping statements, and I just… couldn’t… relate. 

Our first few years of marriage were (dare I say it)… fun.  Many things happened our “first few years” that could have made for a difficult marriage: we bought our first home, we remodeled our first home (it was the epitome of sweat equity), we made peace with Marty, we became proud dog owners, we profusely apologize to the neighbors for our dog attacking their child, we took the dog to the pound, kittens!, the Husband lost his job, one of our cats ran away, the Husband helped me through my emotional insecurities and body image issues (that’s not to say those have gone away), we sometimes struggled to make ends meet financially, I worried about things I had no control over….

The list goes on and on… but the important part here is that I didn’t feel our marriage was ever difficult or hard.  We seriously didn’t have our first knock down drag out fight until very VERY recently (and even then it wasn’t THAT bad, we resolved the issue, and then kissed made up about a half hour later).

See what I'm talking about?  Bliss.

So… the “first few years” for the Husband and I were great.  I don’t know if babies and children would have totally ruined our “first few years”… and we’ll never know one way or the other… so I’ll just reiterate how fun it was to grow together as a couple during those “first few years”.

Those “help us know when we should start a family” prayers continued.  We never had a lightening bolt “ah-ha!” moment where we suddenly realized we needed to start having babies ASAP… it was more of a general realization that it wasn’t NOT the right time.  We didn’t feel like we shouldn’t be having babies.  We weren't being told "NO!!!!!!  Don't do it!!!!"  

So, we tossed birth control out the door and our baby journey began.