Mir·a·cle – Noun.
1. a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency.
2. a highly improbable or extraordinary event, development, or accomplishment that brings very welcome consequences.
3. an amazing product or achievement, or an outstanding example of something.
Let me just start by saying that I personally believe in miracles. There have been many improbable events in my life that I see as miraculous. Among them is the fact that I met my husband. There were so many factors at work that brought us together and so many others that could have kept us apart, and yet here we are! I have had loved ones who we thought were not long for this world still here years later. Amazing things happen in this world and that deserves to be recognized.
Every baby that is born is a miracle. There are so many things that could have stood in the way of each of those lives.
I think looking at pregnancy from the side of my personal struggle with PCOS both allows me to see how miraculous it is, but also makes me hardened to it.
I have known for years that my journey to motherhood would probably not be a quick one. I also have known for years that I may never become a mother at all, and I know that I have longed to be a mother for as long as I can remember.
I have a bicornuate utereus and Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome as I have mentioned before. My husband and I would love to start a family, and in September I started on Metformin. Although it is a drug designed for diabetes, it has also been shown to reduce the symptoms of PCOS and thereby stimulate ovulation. It is the first course of action that many medical professionals take in treating PCOS for conception. There are many stages of treatment beyond Metformin. There is another drug called Clomid that is supposed to help stimulate ovulation and it is often taken along with Metformin for women with PCOS. This is the next line of treatment that I will likely take. After that there other more invasive treatments that we could look at. These include surgery to fix my bicornuate uterus, and at the same time they would probably remove the scar tissue and cysts from my ovaries; IVF is another option, surrogacy, and adoption. At my last doctor’s appointment he told me that one way or another I’ll become a mom.
My husband and I are not fresh out of highschool, nor are we fresh out of college, We are in our thirties, and each of these courses of treatment take time and despite my doctor’s optimistic words, I am toughening myself up for the hard truth that pregnancy is improbable for a woman with my conditions and only slightly less improbable at the level of treatment I’m at and only slightly less at the next level up and so on and so forth. When you add into that the fact that my husband and I have a soft cut off of 35 for parenthood, it will definitely take a miracle for me to become a mother.
I see other women who get pregnant without even “trying” and couples who decide it’s time to start a family and TAA DAA!!! There’s a baby on the way. I really want to be happy for them, and I am! It’s an amazing adventure they are on! But there is a part of me that grieves every time I see a pregnancy announcement on my news feed, or every time I see a mom-to-be with her big belly or a new mom or dad with with their baby.
Every time I take a pregnancy test and it’s negative it breaks my heart. I feel like my body is letting me down, taking me down this rabbit hole of false hope when I go for over a month without a period, or I have a really wicked bout of nausea, and I take yet another test and… Nope.
I see my husband with our nieces and nephews and he is so loving and so caring. He has this amazing paternal nature and I want more than anything to be able to give him the opportunity to be the awesome dad that I know he would be. Every month that goes by, every doctor’s appointment, every prescription renewal; I feel like I’m letting him down. He’s quick to say that I’m not and that we’re in this together and he is happy in his life with me whether or not we ever have kids. But that doesn’t completely change the way I feel.
With the Metformin comes mood swings as my body adjusts to the different hormone levels in it. I also get nausea, and heartburn and adverse reactions to some foods. I know people mean well when they ask me if I’m pregnant, or give me that “knowing eye”. But every time I have to say “no, I’m not pregnant” it kills me a little inside. Not only do I feel like my body is letting me down and that I’m letting my husband down, but that we’re letting everyone else down.
If we do have a kid, it’ll be a miracle. But my husband and I are already a miracle. If we don’t become parents by 35, we are going to stop all treatments, and travel the world. It will be an amazing life, seeing the miraculous wonders our planet has to offer.