It wasn’t supposed to be this easy.
When we started talking about trying to have a baby I was a pessimist as always. I’ve been dealing with PCOS for several years now and I know that can make it difficult if not impossible to conceive naturally. My worst fear was that I wouldn’t be able to get pregnant and it would break up our marriage, because Joe has wanted to be a father for a very long time.
He assured me that we would figure things out no matter what happened.
For a while we were sort of but not really trying and nothing was happening and I saw it all as proof of my worst fears – now that I had finally decided I would like to be a mother the universe had decided that all my waffling and bad choices made me unfit. So we stopped trying.
At the beginning of this year my PCOS came back full force. I had seen my endocrinologist during the winter and she was very happy with my progress, and then the summer hit and suddenly my life was not my own. I was living away, working 12 to 14 hours a day and ate what was available, getting no exercise. My weight went up and my period stopped and I started panicking about all the health issues associated with PCOS – cancer being the biggest thing on my mind, and infertility being number two.
And then, suddenly, I took a pregnancy test in April, for no real reason except to prove to myself that I, once again, was not pregnant, and it come up positive. By the end of the week I had taken three more tests and had them confirmed by my doctor.
And I still had my doubts. Until the first ultrasound all that was going through my mind was the thought that it must be ectopic. And once we knew it was a normal pregnancy, all I could think was that something would go wrong and I was going to miscarry.
And then I hit the end of the first trimester and she was still okay. In fact, as far as the midwife and the ultrasound technician was concerned, she was perfect and everything was going along smoothly. I am shocked that she’s still fine, that I have now entered my third trimester and I feel her every day moving around and all the medical types are still happy with her growth and her progress and everything says she’ll get here on time and in fine form.
And I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I’m not gaining enough weight, and I’m not showing as much as I expected to, there are days when she doesn’t move as much and I wonder all the time what’s going on.
I’m terrified about what will happen when she gets here, what will happen a year, five years, fifteen years down the road. I’m wondering how I will pay for this relatively easy pregnancy. I’ll worry about her always.