| In March 2000, I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.) This is my personal story... When I was a teenager I was thin, and I assumed had normal menstrual cycles. As I became a young adult in my twenties, however, I watched my weight increase. At first it was very subtle. I went from being 100 pounds at age 18 to 120 by the time I was 21. I passed it off as a combination of growth spurts and college life. By the time I was 25 I was weighing in at 140. And when I met my husband David two years later, I was up to 155 pounds. At age 30, when we got married in June I was 160-165 pounds. Needless to say the weight gain really had me puzzled, and extremely upset. After all, people in high school knew me as skinny Janet, and now I was facing a whole new prejudice, that of being overweight. And what a terrible prejudice it was too. People can be so cruel. After David and I wed-well, honestly before- we talked about starting a family immediately since both of us weren't getting any younger! I took my last birth control pill in October of 1994 and we commenced (happily so) into the baby-making mode. No one tells you that it will be a difficult or even hopeless journey. That's because for so many couple's, it's not. Well we're not like most couples. After two years of actively trying (or what we liked to refer to as "Not Preventing") in November of 1996, I had a dream that told me to go take a HPT test-so when I woke up, I did, and much to my surprise and joy, it was POSITIVE! I woke David up and had him come verify it because I was so used to them being negative. He confirmed it and we were extremely elated. I went to the doctors after work that day to confirm it, and I cried when they told me it was indeed positive. The poor nurse thought I was unhappy, but the tears I shed were tears of joy. I was bursting to tell my family and friends and co-workers. All of who knew we were trying. I scheduled my first appointment and left the clinic on cloud nine. Like all newly expectant mothers should. Little did I know what lie ahead. One day at break time a co-worker noticed I was looking pale. I shrugged it off as a pregnancy thing, but when I went to the bathroom, I noticed I had been spotting-bleeding, actually. I panicked. My co-workers assured me that it was common to spot in the first trimester, but I had this impending feeling of doom, so, too upset to drive myself, I called my mother to come pick me up and take me in to see my doctor. After an initial examination my worse fears were almost confirmed, I was most likely in the throes of miscarriage. My mom called my husband at his place of work, and he met me at the hospital where I had an ultra sound. I knew when the radiologist told us to return to our doctors’ office that the miscarriage was very real, and I lost my composure on the way over to the doctor's office. David and I embraced each other before going in. The doctor only had to look at me and I knew it was all too true. He assured me it was more common than people think, and at this point he saw no reason why I couldn't have a normal pregnancy again. He gave us three options, and I was too ignorant or too upset to think logically. Hindsight says I should have opted for the D&C. But David and I agreed we would allow the miscarriage to occur naturally. He gave me Motrin (800mg), and told me to take at least three of them when the time came. My joy had quickly turned to pain, and with a very sedate Christmas spent with both of our families, I remained out of work until the miscarriage occurred. On January 1st, 1997 with great physical and emotional pain, our first baby was officially dead. As we tried to piece back together our lives, David was called away on business for three months to Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia. I was left alone to "deal" with everything. And I was amazed at how well I went on with my life. It was due to the great support system and love from family and friends and many, many prayers. When David returned in May, we immediately decided to try again. In June I was joyously sick to my stomach, and another positive HPT test revealed what we had hoped and prayed for. I was pregnant once more. I had some fears, but my doctor was so optimistic that I felt a little better about things. We only shared the news with our parents. Since I had quit my job in May, I was willing to rest and do whatever it took to get through a healthy pregnancy. In July, two weeks after my first official doctors visit, I began to spot again. I immediately called my doctor, and that next day I was in the hospital getting another sonogram. It took the radiologist forever, and finally she had to call in her boss. I knew this wasn't a good sign. Not at all. She told us to go meet our doctor at his office. I cried all the way there. The doctor had an even more concerned look on his face this time. He told us that this baby, though very much alive with a heartbeat, was ectopic. It was wedged in between the lining of my left fallopian tube. I would have to undergo surgery immediately. It was a matter of life and death for me. I guess I was in shock, because I remained very calm through the whole, awful procedure. And I basically didn't even mourn until I was home alone. David had to return overseas to Egypt, and I put on a brave face for him, although inside I felt such rage and confusion. I sank into a deep depression, and when David returned in November, I was a wreck of emotions. Not only that, but I hadn't had a period since the ectopic. So I finally decided to go to the doctors to see what was wrong. My old doctor was gone, and a new doctor had taken his place. This man had the bedside manner of a rusty doornail, but he assured me that taking Provera, would bring on my menses, and he also gave me Clomid to help me ovulate. Six months of that drug, and I was more emotional than ever before, and it did nothing to help me. I was desperate. And then the phone call from our insurance company came. The insurance company had a registered nurse, and she wanted to know why I was on Clomid, for so long, at my age. (Yes, she did have to bring up the age thing!) And she wondered if I had been through any infertility testing prior to this. When I told her I hadn't, she immediately set up an appointment for me to see a reproductive endocrinologist (RE) in Cleveland. I was both confused, and relieved. Maybe now I would get some questions answered. My new doctor was very nice, and very eager to run me (and David) through testing. I had a hysterosapingogram (HSG) to determine if my fallopian tubes were blocked. She made the discovery that my left tube, where the ectopic had been, had since collapsed, and my left ovary appeared slightly enlarged (no doubt due to the Clomid). In the meantime, I had gone to my family practioner for a physical. I had been feeling very lethargic, I had gained an extreme amount of weight (I was now at 235 pounds!) and I wasn't sleeping well. He thought it was just depression, but he ran blood work anyway, and when he gave me the results, I almost fell off the examining table. He told me I had Diabetes! All I could think of was this doesn't happen to a 36 year old! It happens to a 46 year old, maybe, but I'm too young for this! When I contacted my RE, she said, "So that explains it." She had been pondering whether or not I had Polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). Of course when she tells me this long, unheard of syndrome, I replied, "What?" So she went on to explain just what PCOS was. It basically was looked upon as a syndrome that causes infertility, as well as diabetes. She gave me a website to go up on to retrieve more information since she was new at it too. It was then that I embarked on a long discovery mission about a syndrome that is more common than people think, and highly under-diagnosed. It has various symptoms, although you don't have to have all of them to have PCOS. Though you do have to have polycysts, of which I do, though they were very small. (If you'd like to learn more about PCOS, please refer to my “What is PCOS?” page). I was finally on my way to understanding a life-long struggle with not only weight, but also emotions. It was almost a relief to discover that there was something really wrong with me. Something that had been inside of me, silently affecting my entire life. It really put a lot of things into perspective for me. I was put on an 1800 count diabetic diet, which along with glucaphage (Metformin) helped me lose 55 pounds within a year’s time. I'm a long way from being at the weight I was as a teenager, but if this is as much weight I can lose, I'll be happy. I am dealing with my diabetes a lot better these days, though I admit, there are some days I wish I could indulge in all the sweet things I had to give up. As for trying to have a baby, well, it's been a long, complicated journey. David was permanently laid off of his job in 1999, and when he got a new one, the insurance naturally, was different, so I couldn't go back to see my RE until I saw a regular OB/GYN. I found a very nice doctor who tried me on three more rounds of Clomid, (much to my horror) and we finally decided that enough was enough. David can attest to what a (w)itch I was on that stuff! And it didn't seem to help me ovulate. My luteal phase wasn't lasting long enough and I often wasn't ovulating at all. It's also very possible that I am only ovulating on my left side, which is unfortunate since that tube is collapsed, and irreparable.My alternative is in-vitro fertilization (IVF), and this costly, not 100% proof procedure, I'm afraid, is beyond what we can afford at this time. (Dated 2001)** **Since this writing we began IVF (in-vitro ) treatment in April 2002. August 20th we became pregnant thru the IVF procedure but our joy was once again short lived. On October 2nd I had to undergo a D & C because the baby, whose heart we saw beating only 7 weeks before, had stopped beating. The OB ran genetic testing on me and the baby. Abigail Mae Fisher was born with an extra chromosome in trisome 22. An extra chromosome in 21 results in Downs Syndrome where an extra one in 22 99.9% results in a miscarriage. The probability is that out of the two eggs transferred in the IVF process, one of them was fertilized, and extra chromosomes were taken from the other unfertilized one to the fertilized one resulting in this genetic defect. I also discovered that I carry a hereditary blood clotting disorder known as MTHFR C677T. This mutation is correlated with 3-fold increased risk for premature cardiovascular disease even without other known risk factors such as hypertension, hyperlipidemia or diabetes. In pregnancy this can lead to blood clots in the placenta during the 2nd and 3rd trimester that left untreated (by a blood clotting medicine like Heparin) can also lead to miscarriage. In the Spring of 2003 while still trying to heal from our third loss I underwent an FET(Frozen Embryo Transfer) and after 4 months of grueling "mock" trials and two very painful, horrible endometrial biopsies the remaining three frozen embryos were transplanted ironically almost a year to date to Abigail's untimely death. After a long 2ww (two week wait) and a stupid UTI (urinary tract infection) and subsequent YI (yeast infection). I had my beta blood test and was disheartened to learn that none of the embies were fertilized. therefore, there was no pregnancy. It was then that David and I abandoned our dream of becoming parents. It had been an emotional, trying 9 years of infertility and losses and it wasn't worth the pain and depression and disappointment to go thru with any more IF treatments. I turned 40 in February and it was my intention not to TTC (try to conceive) past 40. Throughout all of this, our love for one another has grown stronger, our marriage is solid as a rock, and we have been learning to live "child-free", not "childless". We have three angel babies waiting for us in Heaven and the thought of seeing them one day gets me through the lonely, depressing times when I think about what should have been. I won't lie and say it has been easy. It hasn't. It is a daily struggle. I can go days even weeks without dwelling on it and then one thing triggers it and I'm in tears. But they are good tears. healing tears. I have learned that bottling it all up isn't the answer. I just wish I could make my family understand more. But the truth of the matter is, unless you've been in our shoes, and followed our same path, you cannot truly appreciate what we have been through or understand half of our pain. As for dealing with my PCOS and Diabetes, it is a day to day struggle as well. My latest Hem. A1C was excellent--5.8%! (Doctors want to see a diabetic below 7.0%) and I have been exercising regularly to keep the pounds down and the blood clots away. My cycle is semi-regular for a PCOSer (About 30 days) and my body has finally been bled dry of all the fertility hormones that made me whacko for 2 years! I also had a slight scare recently when my mammogram came back abnormal. Because I have been on the fertility meds and HRTs for the IVF and FET I have developed cysts on my left breast. An ultrasound revealed them and though they are small and not a worry to my doctor as of yet, I need to have a follow up test in six months (Jan. 2005) to make sure none of them develop abnormally or grow larger. I'll be sure to keep you updated on this. I think I'm going to make it through all of this. And as a result of my infertility I have been able to meet some incredible ladies dealing with their own infertility issues and help counsel them which makes it all balance out. I have become well-informed with my health conditions so I have a handle on how to better deal with them. I have also learned more about myself. I am a fighter, I am stronger than I think, and I am a survivor. A lot of my friends and my family call me brave. I don't see myself that way, but perhaps I am! It has really put to the test the saying, "God doesn't give us anymore than we can handle". I always like to quote Mother Theresa, who adds, "I just wish he didn't trust me so much"! AMEN, Sister! |