polycystic ovarian syndrome


written: July 11 ’17

5 days ago I got the news though today I am still unsure what exactly the news is. 

the genetic aspects of PCOS have haunted me deeply since my sister was diagnosed seven years ago. I have been checked, processed… they said I didn’t have it but the fear of infertility I have carried with me well before I even longed for children, these days the ache is piercing and consuming.

here I was at an obstetrics appointment, one of what quickly became 6 lab draws of the month. one-hundred and twenty days since my last period.

— TSH: normal

— Ha1c: normal

— Hcg: negative (not pregnant)

— ________: elevated … WHAT!!!!! (i won’t write the word, i won’t say it… gender may be fluid in twenty seventeen but to me I refuse to claim a surge of hormones meant for someone else)

I know what this means, this paired with all other hormones whacked out and far from anything that resembles normal. I don’t have a chance, she actually looked at me and said those words. With a diagnosis like this you won’t have children.

Today another doctor, more blood work and a series of trans-vaginal ultrasounds…

waiting, for official diagnosis… hoping for just kidding there was a huge mix up go make as many babies as you please. it should be noted here that I am not an optimist, but faced with great fear, i dug deep.

be fruitful and multiply…

love your husband and serve you’re family…

but what if I can’t…

I am less of a woman, I don’t even feel like a woman (my apologies to Shania Twain), I feel broken, worthless, numb, devastated.

A doctor I saw called it manageable… cool no dying got it but the infertility, weight struggles, risk for cancer and chronic diseases…. sure I’ll manage. thanks.

I am nothing if not action oriented…. Monday morning I research for hours… Monday afternoon I find a specialist… near by, covered by my insurance…the phone rings and rings….

February 1st ’18….. the planned date of my appointment with this fertility goddess who planted her home in LBK… thank you Jesus.

six months

— waiting, not truly knowing, wondering how my body will betray me in the mean time, desperately trying to figure out how to save myself, crying out to a savior who has made heavenly promise that now seem earthly impossible.

I’m sick, how sick, the lab work says one thing, my body does another… is any of this real… if not then what…

isolated finds a whole new meaning…. I moved to a new city, my husband to follow in four months… a heavy heart and no one knows.

no one hears my heart-beating, or sees the battle of will over my body, against my body.


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