You can check out Part 1 here.
I went to a new family doctor in August of 2010. I was getting married in a few months and figured it was a good time to get a female “check-up” and a prescription for birth control. After being told that “it would be a lot easier for both of us if you come back for a pelvic after your honeymoon,” I was told that I had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), without any medical tests. The doctor oh-so-lovingly pointed out the small amount of acne along my jaw line, the dark hair on my sideburns and the fact that I carried weight mostly in my midsection, and “diagnosed” me.
I was sent home without receiving the services I came for (though the hormonal birth control was heavily advised), and with 15+ pages of medical jargon on the causes, symptoms and side effects of PCOS.
After crying about how rudely I was treated by the doctor, I shrugged the visit off and went about my life. After all, I was planning a wedding, had just moved into my first apartment and recently started a new job. I didn’t have time or energy to think about some syndrome I’d never heard of.
Additionally, I went back on birth control. About six months later, I stopped taking it again. I’d never had issues with my moods and mindset while I was previously on birth control, but this time my emotions felt completely out of control. I didn’t feel like myself and was constantly feeling down and like I could lose it at any second. It wasn’t worth it to me, so I stopped taking them and we chose different methods of birth control.
Over the next two years, my cycles actually regulated themselves out to somewhere between 28 and 32 days. I was actually able to predict when my cycle would arrive and it was really nice to feel a bit more in control.
In the winter of 2014, Greg and I bought our first house and shortly after decided to stop preventing conception. While we didn’t necessarily feel “prepared” to have kids (mostly because of financial reasons and our desire for me to stay home with our children), we both had a strong desire to be parents and said “God will make it happen however and whenever He wants anyways!”
So began the “fun” period of trying to conceive. We had so much anticipation and expectancy. There was so much excitement if my cycle was a day late or if our monthly timing seemed just perfect. Every twinge, cramp, mood swing and sickness was over-analyzed. The googling was out of control.
One year and at least 12 negative pregnancy tests later, we knew something wasn’t quite right.