, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This is a personal post.  I’ve only had a few of them before, where I’m not sarcastic, or trying to be funny, or talking about getting my mom drunk when she came down to visit me.  That won’t be this post.  This will be a post about Patrick and my baby journey.  It was a long journey….not as long as others have had, but certainly one that had us consulting a road map more often than we would have liked.

I would like to tell it to you now.

Oh where to begin…well when a man and a woman love each other very much….


(damn…I thought I wasn’t going to try and be funny)

After Patrick and I got married we had decided to wait a little bit before starting a family because we wanted to enjoy “single” married life <—is that a thing?  Also, we were trying to be responsible adults, Patrick rather was trying to be a responsible adult, and save up money for rainy day funds for when we did have children and all the expenses that come with that territory.  Anyway, a few months after we said “I do”, I was getting antsy.  I wasn’t getting any younger, my mom had me when she was 26, and here I was at 28!  I wanted at least 2 to 3 children and if we had them a few years apart, I would be old, older than I wanted to be, when we had our last one.  I wanted to be young and hip and there to see my kids grow up.  I wanted to be a great-grandma just like the ones I had until I was 25!

Around mid-October of 2013 I stopped taking my birth control.  Patrick and I had decided that it was the right time and he agreed with me that starting out now would be more beneficial in the long run and that we could save in the meantime (it’s not like the kid just magically appears…these things take time…LOTS of time).  At first, it wasn’t like we were actively “trying”.  We went about our normal business and it just so happened that I wasn’t on the pill.  After a few months though, I started to have these nagging thoughts creep in my mind:

“Why hasn’t this worked yet?”, “We are both young and healthy, so why isn’t this happening?” , “Do I not work?”, “Does Patrick not work?”, “Oh god…what if one of us has plumbing issues?” Yea…I thought all of these things.

I started reading mommy posts online and found out that actually getting pregnant is quite the feat.  I mean, every little thing needs to occur at just the right time, and the stars need to align in the next galaxy over for one to actually get pregnant.  Also, it wasn’t uncommon for someone coming off the pill to need to go through a few cycles before ovulation begins again.  So, I thought to myself, “well…to see if I’m ovulating, I’ll just take one of those ovulation kits.”  I did this.  I started tracking when I ovulated and also when the stars aligned in the next galaxy over.  This proved to be trying.

Months went by.  I was ovulating.  We were “doing” everything right (no pun intended).  Something was wrong though.  I had this gut feeling.  So, skip to July now.  I went to my OB-GYN with my concerns and how we had tried just about everything we could at home on our own.  I wanted to make sure that I was “ok” inside.  My doctor told me that infertility is a term used only after a couple has been trying for a year or more.  For Patrick and me, it had only been 10 months.  She sent me home with a little motivational speech and a pat on the back.  During the middle of July I still had this nagging feeling.  I scheduled another appointment for blood work and to see if I was, in fact, ovulating.  Things seemed to be normal.  All the labs and blood work indicated that I was normal and that I seemed to be ovulating.  What then was the issue?  OH GOD IT’S PATRICK!

I shipped Patrick off to perform a semen analysis.  It was normal.  That’s all I’ll say about that.

What the heck then?  By the end of July, my doctor ordered me an ultrasound.  If blood work couldn’t tell us what was wrong, maybe having a look inside could provide answers.  It provided answers alright.  Not the ones I was looking for or expecting.

Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome

Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome

That’s an ovary (not my personal ovary though…I found this on a Google search).  See all those little black circles in there.  Those are cysts.  This is what Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) looks like.  Both my ovaries looked worse than this picture here.  Upon seeing this on the screen, I know that’s not how a normal ovary could look.  I did not know what PCOS was at the time.  I panicked.  Did I have cancer?!  What the hell were those things all up in my lady parts?!

The doctor told me that I had PCOS and that was causing my body to rarely ovulate, if at all.  The other symptoms and side effects of PCOS are also equally obnoxious.  I won’t get into all of them here but you grow hair in unwanted places, you have a hard time losing weight because your hormones are all outta whack and weight gain is pretty easy, you get teenager acne, etc., etc.  The causes of PCOS are a topic for debate among the medical community.  Typically the condition is seen in obese women with diabetes.  Um…that’s not me.  I was utterly confused.

I freaked out.  I cried a lot.  I cried in the doctor’s office.  I cried in the parking lot of the doctor’s office.  I sniffled during the ride home (crying while driving is dangerous….mmmkay).  I cried A LOT.  Patrick cried too.  We didn’t know what was going to happen.  I was broken.  I was going to be the reason we wouldn’t be able to have kids.  Me.  The healthy, young, athletic woman.  Me.

Before I left the office on that awful day, the doctor did discuss with me that there were options.  Medical options.  She told me that lots of women with this condition go on to lead happy and healthy lives WITH KIDS.  Firstly, there were drug interventions that would kick start my ovulation.  If that didn’t work, than more invasive procedures like IVF could be an option.

After about 3 or 4 days of feeling down and sorry for myself (and more uncontrollable crying), Patrick and I discussed the drug option.  There was a chance that more than one egg could be released, but it was a chance we were willing to take.  Multiples…I said I wanted, like, a couple kids didn’t I?

I opted for the drugs.  I had a prescription for Clomid and I filled it.  All I had to do was wait until my next menstrual cycle started before I could start the therapy.  It was the beginning of August and our 1 year anniversary was upon us.  I did’t want the weight of the bad news to put a damper on our special anniversary get away.  I really tried to suck it up, but all the while I had this anxiety building inside me, and I just wanted to start the pills already!  Our weekend was nice though.  We said our vows to each other atop the lighthouse in St. Augustine.

Vows atop the lighthouse

Vows atop the lighthouse

Kissy face...

Kissy face…

We had an amazing 1 year anniversary.  I tried to not let the bad news get me down.  I mean, there was next month, with the pills, and the ovulation, and then BABIES…maybe?

So the last time I had gotten a period was July 25.  I waited ALL of August for my next cycle to start.  Nothing.  Wow….I had had some pretty irregular cycles during this time (a symptom of PCOS), but nothing this long.  Hmmm…

The morning of September 2, 2014 I woke up super early, as I had been doing for the past few weeks, to go to the gym before work.  I decided that I was going to get super hot, buff, and sexy at the gym if I couldn’t have kids right away.  Anyway…I took my pre-workout and headed off to the gym and did deadlifts, leg presses, lunges on the smith machine and other really beast-mode type stuff.  When I came home, I felt a little off.  No, I wasn’t tired or sore or anything like that.  I just felt off.  Maybe it was that new Cellucor Super HD pre-workout I took?  I had never had it before.  Ehh, maybe it was that.  Well, on my way to the shower, I decided for shits-n-giggles to take a pregnancy test.  By now, I had taken probably over 20 of them.  I had two more underneath the sink.  I had a cheapy CVS brand and a First Response one.  I opted to take the more expensive of the two.  I peed on it, expecting another let down, set it on the counter, and hopped in the shower.  To my surprise, when I got out of the shower and glanced at the stick…it had two lines.  It had two lines.  WAIT, WHAT?!  IT HAD TWO LINES!  What the freak!?  No, this can’t be right.  This is only positive because of that pre-workout I had.  The chemicals in that caused me to have a positive pregnancy test.  I took a picture of the ingredients to show my doctor (you think I’m kidding?):

Could this be the reason I'm pregnant?

Could this be the reason I’m pregnant?

I took another test.

This could mean I'm very pregnant.

This could mean I’m very pregnant.

I called Patrick in hysterics.  Then I called my mom.  Then my dad.  Then Patrick again.  At first, everyone thought I was dying or something was horribly wrong because I was hysterically sobbing on the phone.  Nope…those are just extreme tears of joy.  And relief.  And a whole bunch of other emotions that I have no idea how to handle because I just freaking found out that I am pregnant even after my doctor said it was damn near impossible without drug intervention and my ovaries had cysts in them whhhhhaaaattttt? Is going on?

I waited about 2 more hours and decided I’d better be safe than sorry, so I went to the store and bought a pack of more pregnancy tests.  The really f*cking good, expensive kind:

Yup...definitely pregnant

Yup…definitely pregnant.

Oh my WOW!

Well, you know how the rest goes.

8 week ultrasound to confirm pregnancy.

8 week ultrasound to confirm pregnancy.

12 week ultrasound.

12 week ultrasound.

20 week ultrasound - anatomy scan.

20 week ultrasound – anatomy scan.

We could have found out what this little nugget was during the 20 week appointment, but we decided to have the best surprise of our lives (again) with this one, and will wait until baby’s birthday.  That expected birthday is supposed to be May 1, 2015, that’s 3 days from the time of me writing this post!

Hope you enjoyed this extremely long and drawn out blog post…but to be honest, this one was more for me than for any of you.

With lots of love, until next time…