3 years of trying to conceive in my early 20’s – I was sad and non-understanding why everyone around me who didn’t want kids was getting pregnant. My husband and I had been married for a few years.
Each month involved peeing on a test to find a negative.
We had purchased an SUV and we were building a bigger home, built for a family. We were married and happy. We had successfully turned our dogs into our children, all was wonderful with the exception of one thing.
We were missing a baby.
Finally raising my hands in the air, surrendering – I agreed to talk infertility treatments. My OB-GYN at the time was pregnant. This only made things worse. AND, she was having a boy named Aiden – that was my boy name. *GRR* (Sex and the City had me convinced that I was going to name my boy this, that was the season when Aiden was sweet).
Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) was my diagnosis for why I was infertile. PCOS is characterized by various symptoms, mine being random periods and difficulty losing weight. It sucked. I hated having a diagnosis, but had to remember it could be worse. I didn’t care PCOS or not, infertility was something we knew we had to combat.
The doctor wanted to start us off on Clomid. We were to try this for 3 months, each month coming in for a blood test around ovulation day to make sure I was ovulating. If it was the weekend, I had to go to the hospital as the day marker was critical. I agreed and 3 long months went by, no baby.
Then September 11th happened. My husband lost his job. All the money we had poured into the house we were building would be flushed down the toilet if we didn’t close. My parents were finalizing a divorce. Life sucked.
After several months, the husband found another stable job. We were able to close on the house with the sweet help of a sales rep who directed workers on delaying our build until things got better for us. I knew we needed to try again with Clomid.
Back to the doctor we went. She had something new for us this time. With the Clomid, she had me taking Metformin together.
1 month, nothing.
2 months, nothing.
3 months, I took an early pregnancy test – and again negative.
Then I started vomitting.
For a week, I thought I had the stomach bug. We always had bought pregnancy test several packs at a time. I thought, just 1 more test and then I am giving up. The doctor had told us, after 3 months of Clomid – Metformin not working – the next step would be to start fertility shots as the chances of the drugs working would drop. Me and shots didn’t go well.
I peed on the test. 2 line. Finally. Could I be? Yep. PREGNANT!
Read part 2 of Z’s birth story: the joy of my first pregnancy continues… vomit. scared. epidural gone bad.