It Took 10 Years and Grateful

First my apologies for the last post. I am not usually that, hmmm shall we say, negative? I have just had a really long and emotional week and that post was an attempt to get my mind off some pretty serious stuff we were dealing with. Now on to the present.

I have debated back and forth as to whether I should write this or not. But, I then decided that I should write it with no other reason than for me. Men (if there is actually any who read this) be forewarned: this post may contain a little bit of TMI.

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I have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovarian Syndrome). Getting a diagnosis for what is wrong with me has been quite an adventure. I started having symptoms when I was 17 years old and a senior in high school. I had irregular periods, or should I say, very-regular periods. My period would occur every 14 days, and last for 7 days with severe cramps. Yes, do the math. Not exactly fun - especially when one is involved with athletics. Then again, are they ever fun? I also was dealing with depression, in the name of mood swings (my poor parents).

I finally told my mom that things weren't right like they used to be. She promptly made an appointment, and I went to see the doctor. I insisted that the doctor had to be a women, as this was a delicate and embarrassing thing for my young self. And let's just say, it wasn't good experience. At my appointment, I had told the lady doctor what problems I was having. At first, she didn't believe me. She explained that I was her patient, and my mother wasn't in the room and I could be honest with her. She was convinced that I just wanted to be on birth control pills. She proceeded to talk to me about safe sex and STD's. Upon my insistence that I was not having sex or planning on having sex anytime soon, she finally backed down. Then she told me what she believed was wrong with me, and it would be the same answer every doctor for the next 10 years would give me. She said, "Well, I think there is nothing wrong with you. You are young and it is perfectly normal. Some girls take a while to regulate". This was said, even knowing that I was perfectly regular for two years prior to that. So she broke out some birth control samples, and sent me on my way. I took the pills at night, every night. And every morning, I was sick, for a month. My mom called the not so nice lady doctor and informed her that they were making me nauseous. She was told that I needed to be on them for three months, and that my body would adjust. Three months? Are you kidding me? I never went to that doctor again.

Round two. My mother asked around and found another ob/gyn that a lot of people seemed to like. My experience with him, other than the fact that is was a "him" went much better. He said he wasn't sure what to think, but his guess would be that I was young, and hormones do weird things. He then said there was a slight possibility that there were small "cysts" on my ovaries, but it would be too soon to tell (should of listened to that more - it would have helped in the long run). He wanted me to monitor my cycles and gave me a chart to fill out. Then he gave me birth control pills with a much lower dosage that didn't make me sick. The pills seemed to work. My periods were regular. Cramping was still bad, but manageable. And so, for the next few years, I took the pill and went on with life.

I got pregnant with Aleana the first month after I went off the pill. It was a little surprising, since I was told it takes about 6 months to get pregnant after the pill. I just assumed that I was super fertile, and inherited it from my mother. The pregnancy went well, with the exception that I gained a whole lot of weight - 65lbs to be exact. Now, it was my fault mostly. After all, I was eating for "two". After giving birth, I lost 40lbs in 2 weeks. It was encouraging. I assumed the other weight would follow. It didn't. Diets kind of worked for awhile, but it was a huge battle, and I not only didn't lose the 25lbs, I ended up gaining 15 more.

When Aleana was a year, I ended up getting pregnant again. However, I miscarried at 8 weeks. I was sad, and it was painful - but I could always try again. I was young and fertile. Many women have at least one miscarriage, it's nature's way if something isn't right. I wasn't too worried.

A few months later, it was time to try again. The first month it didn't happen. Still not too concerned. Then came the second and third month - and still nothing. Six months of trying, and nothing to show for it. I was getting discouraged and thought there was something wrong. By this time we were stationed in Germany. I made an appointment with the base doctor. I explained to him what was going on, and my symptoms - since they had returned (with me no longer being on the pill). Any guesses as to what he told me? Yep, not only the "you are young and it's your hormones" speech, I was also told that I would have to wait a year before they would be concerned enough to do fertility tests on me and my hubby. It was the clinic's standard. So getting a second opinion from the same clinic wasn't going to help, and I wasn't brave enough to go to a German doctor.

After 14 months of trying, I was pregnant with Trent. And let me tell ya, 14 months of trying is exhausting and unless a person has had to experience that helpless feeling of not being able to conceive - one cannot begin to understand. Every month a new feeling of hope and anticipation, only to end up in heartache. It takes a toll. When the test was a positive, I showed Tracy and we both cried - we were just so grateful to be pregnant. There were no complications with the pregnancy - even though I gained a massive 70lbs. And this time, I wasn't eating for "two". I was trying hard to watch what I eat. I was really frustrated that no matter what I did, the weight did what it wanted. Again, lost 40lbs and not an ounce more.

We decided that it was nice having a 3 year gap between the kids. Even though it wasn't planned that way, it was really nice to have that time. So when Trent turned two, it was time to try again. Going into it this time, I knew that it probably wasn't going to happen right away so I made an appointment with the base doctor (we were then stationed in Colorado). I told him I needed a referral to see a civilian doctor. He assured me that it wasn't necessary, that the base could accommodate my needs. I told him that they couldn't and it was my right to request a doctor off base. To this day, it was one of my best decisions.

The day came, and I went to my appointment with off-base doctor. I was on a roll, and just like I did with the base doctor, I wasn't going to let off-base doctor push me around. I went into that room and told him all my experiences and frustrations. I told him I knew there was something wrong with me and that I was 27 - and it wasn't because I was young. After I finished, he just kind of looked at me, with a dumbfounded look. He asked how long my symptoms had been going on. I told him 10 years. He then asked me to repeat what my symptoms were. I told him about the short menstrual cycles, the heavy bleeding, the cramping, the depression, the weight that would not come off, the migraines, and again voiced my frustration. He just shook his head. So, there I was, sitting in the chair, thinking - "oh great, another doctor who isn't going to listen". He finished writing in the file and asked if there had been any blood tests in the past. I said no. He sighed and looked up at me. He then told me he could not believe that more hasn't been done. There was obviously something wrong, and he couldn't understand why no one investigated it further. He asked me if I have ever heard of something called PCOS. I said no. He gave me a pamphlet to read, and ordered some blood tests that needed to be taken over the next month. I was to come back to discuss the test results and what to do about having a baby.

Meanwhile, I went home and read the pamphlet. It said that 1 in 10 women of childbearing age are affected by PCOS and that it was the number 1 cause of infertility. The cause of PCOS is still unknown, but most researchers believe that it is genetic. The body makes an excess of insulin which causes an increase of androgen (testosterone). The increase of androgen can lead to weight gain, ovulation problems, acne, and in some cases excessive hair growth. The symptoms include heavy bleeding/irregular periods, overweight/obesity, infertility, ovarian cysts, high cholesterol, high blood pressure, depression, hair growth, pelvic pain, skin tags, and dark patches. PCOS is not curable, but the symptoms can be managed with birth control, type II diabetic medication, fertility drugs, and diet/weight-loss. Getting and being pregnant with PCOS can be difficult. There is a higher chance of miscarriage, as well as pre-eclampsia and gestational diabetes. Hmmmm. As I was reading it, I noticed that I only had a few of the symptoms, but not all. So I did what anyone else would do - I googled it.

At my next appointment with off-base doctor, my test results were back. My insulin was off, and my progesterone was extremely low, which meant I wasn't ovulating. The doctor looked at me and said "You have PCOS. While there is not a single test that can diagnose this, the results make it pretty clear". At that point I just start crying. Imagine, me - in a room, with the doctor balling my eyes out. He reassured me that it isn't the end of the world and that PCOS is treatable. I looked at him and said " I know that. But I feel horrible. I made myself not to be able to have babies...all because I am fat!" He looked confused and asked why I thought that. I told him how I did research and found sites that discuss PCOS and how if you just lose weight it will go away, and that being fat caused this "syndrome" to happen in the first place. Off base doctor explained to me that yes, losing weight will help with being able to get pregnant, and help with the symptoms, but it doesn't cure it. There is no cure. And while being obese can make these symptoms more extreme, it did not cause PCOS. In fact, there is proof that PCOS can cause weight gain and there in lies the problem. Losing weight is ideal, but it is very difficult because you have to work against your own body. It can be done, but it is harder than what the average woman has to deal with. He could tell that I was still skeptical. He asked me if I was obese when I was 17. I said no. And he then asked "but you still were having problems?" And that was the moment that the light bulb turned on. Okay, so I have this problem, but it isn't just my fault and I can do something about it, sort of. It's not the end of the world.

Off base doctor worked with me over the next 18 months, testing hormone levels and trial and error with different strengths of metformin (diabetic type II drug that helps with insulin resistance) and clomid (fertility drug that causes ovulation). After two years of trying, we found out we were pregnant with Hannah. This time the pregnancy was monitored very closely from the start. The doctor kept me on metformin until I was 36 weeks to prevent miscarriage and also to help me not gain excess weight. I gained a grand total of 22lbs. Not too many complications, until 37 weeks - where I had to be induced due to pre-eclampsia. The birth went fine and I lost 34lbs. Quite the contrast compared to the first two kids.

It took 10 years and several doctors to finally figure out what was wrong with me. The crazy thing is that PCOS is fairly common, but because the symptoms can be attributed to so many other things, it is hard to narrow down. The good news is that I am finally aware of what is going on. I am not crazy. I have not been worrying about nothing. I have the tools and knowledge to manage it. And because I was able to get this all figured out, I can take steps to avoid the long term problems like the development of diabetes, heart disease, and uterine cancer.

So then begs the question. After not having to truly worry about contraception for the past 10 years, not really having to worry about getting pregnant, and knowing that pregnancy will take medical intervention, how is it that we were able to get pregnant on our own, without even trying? The Lord works in mysterious ways. I quit trying to ask why. Although, I must admit, I was quite surprised to say the least and I am grateful.