I was diagnosed with PCOS several years ago. For me, personally, I hated the fact that I would have to cope with hair growth, absent periods, and infertility for the rest of my life. In the end, I was relieved to finally have a reason for all of these things taking place. The more I searched and studied about PCOS, however, the more frightened I became. The stories of hundreds of women, all diagnosed with PCOS, having miscarriages. Shocked as I was the thought of me ever actually having one was quickly put out of my mind.
Before I knew anything about PCOS, I was fortunate enough to get pregnant with my daughter. At the time, I would get my period twice a year. Actually, I considered this a blessing and just continued on with my life. It wasn’t until I knew more about PCOS, did I realize just how blessed I was to have gotten pregnant in the first place, and more so, to carry full term.
Several years later, after struggling to get pregnant, I decided to finally seek the help of a Reproductive Endocrinologist. An RE as they are often referred to, are physicians who specifically deal with reproductive disorders, or treating infertility. Knowing the increased risk of miscarriage for women with PCOS, I made major lifestyle changes. I began the Atkin’s Diet, for which I lost 63 lbs; I exercised 5 times a week, and quit smoking. By living a healthier lifestyle, my RE said that I had increased my chances of getting pregnant. He prescribed my first round of clomid 50mg, and provera to induce a period. I was anxious to get started, however, my husband who was in the Army, got sent to do field work for 2 weeks. So, to my dismay, I imagined this month was not going to be my month. Unexpectedly, his unit was released for a few hours to watch the Super Bowl. It sounded a little funny but I didn’t care, here was my only opportunity to see if my clomid would work.
I had heard several women say they did several rounds of clomid before it actually worked; imagine my surprise when it worked on the first round. Beyond excited, I quickly told everyone I knew about the baby. Soon after finding out, however, I recalled the link between PCOS and miscarriages. No matter how I tried to reassure myself that I would not have a miscarriage, I felt it all over; a fear that consumed me all over. For the first time in my life, I understood the phrase, “fear is knowledge”. All of the articles read about PCOS, as well as, the many testimonials of sufferers and miscarriage, left me hopeless. To put it this way, I knew too much. I recalled my first pregnancy, how stress-free it was; but, I didn’t know all of information yet. Day upon day, I looked at my symptoms, how I felt, and even rented one of those baby heart beat monitors, looking for any signs or reassurance At 7 ½ weeks, an ultrasound showed a growing baby and heartbeat, however, my panic never subsided. There never a moment of comfort, nor, ever would be.
At 11 weeks pregnant, the spotting began. My husband had been in the field for a month and I had just picked him. As soon as he walked through the door, I began showing him the 7 week ultrasound pictures when I felt a trickle of blood. It wasn’t a lot of blood, but enough to go to the Emergency room. As usual with our on-post medical center, it was several hours in a waiting room and then another hour for a doctor to actually enter the room. They did nothing but an HCG count; no ultrasound, no exams. The HCG count was lower than my previous numbers, so I knew it wasn’t good. The doctor told me not to worry about it, that it was probably nothing and sent me home. The next morning, I made an appointment with the OB/GYN clinic for my follow-up. I explain to the doctor that I had PCOS and feared a miscarriage was imminent. She had a very caring demeanor, which meant so much at that moment. She did the exam, and then performed an ultrasound. I couldn’t see the screen, and there were no clues of expression on her face. She asked if I wanted to see it, followed quickly by “It’s not good”. There was no movement or heartbeat, complete stillness. After the confirmation, I had the dreaded exit through the waiting room. Seeing this room crowded with visibly pregnant women made the situation so much crueler.
I naturally miscarried that night and began my journey of grief. The next several days required putting away maternity clothes and returning baby items purchased; I couldn’t look at any of it without breaking down. Everywhere I shopped, ate out, or drove by, made me wonder if everyone was pregnant. If you have ever experience infertility or a miscarriage, you will see more pregnant women than you’ve ever seen before. Each one that I seen made the pain hurt so much more. I considered trying again, but, could I emotionally go through another probable miscarriage?
The ache of losing my baby never left me or got any easier, but I decided to try again. Three months after my miscarriage, I started clomid again with metformin. Metformin supposedly reduces the risk of miscarriage in women with PCOS. Learning from how I dealt with my previous attempt at pregnancy, I allowed myself to relax and enjoy the process. While my husband was on leave for 2 weeks, we visited our families in Kentucky. This also happened to be the same time that I began my first round of clomid. Being away, the pressures of the last time weren’t weighted so heavily on me. Upon returning home in Washington, I discovered I was pregnant again. Deep down, the fear of a miscarriage was there but, I didn’t allow it to consume me. I took every day one at a time, going about my regular life without constant worry. The fact is I had PCOS and it was never going away; however, it was not going to take my life from me again.
At 8 weeks pregnant, an ultrasound revealed we were having twins; soon after, my husband was deployed to Iraq. I was now in the situation of raising our 4 year old and carrying twins alone. At 13 weeks, another ultrasound showed 2 healthy babies growing inside of me. I luckily made it out of the first trimester, and began telling everyone I knew. I went on to deliver 2 healthy girls, March 3, 2005. A year later, without any intervention, we had our first son.
It’s been 5 years since my miscarriage, yet I still think about it. I always wonder if it was a boy or girl, what it would have looked like, its personality; I continue to feel love for that baby every day. I never asked to have PCOS, infertility, or a miscarriage, but they all happened. Living through each one made me stronger and more compassionate towards others. God gives us abilities, and I truly believe through my struggle, he showed me my strength. My children are miracles, true blessings, a fact I will always cherish.
