Hello!
I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Kara and this is my way overdue, hopeless, aggravating fertility blog!
(or rather infertility)
A little about myself.
This is a little TMI, so brace yourself.
I'm currently 26 and I have PCOS (Poly-cystic Ovarian Sydrome). PCOS is one of the number one causes for infertility in women. Basically, it's a hormone disorder most notably marked by cysts on the ovaries. Cysts aren't normally a big deal - even healthy women get them every now and then. But me? Yeah. I have about 10 on each ovary and they're not budging. Each month, instead of releasing a healthy egg, I create another cyst.
This disorder causes me to have very irregular periods, or simply absent ones. You know that show I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant? I hear people talk about it like, "How could she not know she was pregnant when she missed a period?" - All I can do is facepalm. When you're like me and you sometimes skip 6-7 months of periods, it's entirely logical. Another thing PCOS causes is an increase in male hormones, most notably, testosterone. This can cause a woman with PCOS to grow a full beard. I, thank god, do not have a beard. Or maybe that's just because I shave over that area daily to prevent undergrowth. I'm paranoid.
But can you blame me?
It's fantastically fun. Truly.
Aside from the cysts, I also gain weight extremely easy. My doctor pretty much told me I could eat a grilled chicken salad and walk a mile every day and still struggle to keep my weight down.
Even more fantastic.
And my periods? Yeah. I've had a serious love-hate relationship with good ole Aunt Flo. She hates me. She never visits when she's supposed to, and when she does, she overstays her welcome and wrecks the place. In short, my period's a bitch.
"Oh my god, why are you complaining about not getting your period? I would LOVE that!"
Yeah. Except I'm not a period when it comes, I'm getting 2-3 months' worth of periods (or however long it's been since she decided to show her sorry ass up) - all at once.
A little history.
I got my period when I was 12. I had no way of knowing I had PCOS at the time, something I was born with. I had horrific periods. I would have to stay home from school, writhing and rolling around on my bed in agony. Agony. Midol wouldn't touch it. Tylenol? Forget it. Industrual strength crap from the back of the medicine cabinet for emergencies? Nada. I had to suffer.
And to make matters worse, the damn thing would last for 1-2 weeks. I honestly thought this was normal. I soon learned that it was definitely not normal.
I was raised by my grandparents and although they meant well, I should have seen a doctor. My grandmother assumed I got my "bad lady days" from her since she went through the same thing. I didn't question her since I respect my elders, but looking back, I really should have asked to see a doctor because it was definitely not normal.
And come to think of it, she had my father and then spent TEN YEARS trying for a second baby before she finally became pregnant with my uncle. Didn't that maybe ring a bell in her mind that this might just be a thing? Like, a real medical thing that I may have inherited (along with her horrible eye sight)?
And then there was school. I still cringe when I look back on my middle school days. Popular girls can be so cruel when they discover you're carrying pads in your purse and not trendy, skinny little tampons. (Seriously, why does that crap matter?). They would point and tease and ask me about my "diapers". Ugh. Little bitches. Oh how I cried.
I once tried to use a tampon, despite my grandmother's rules (Only non-virgins wear tampons), and it was an absolute disaster. It was super-plus and I went through the damn thing in less than 20 minutes. This still applies to me to this day. I only use tampons if it's all I have, and I regret it every time. Do they make super-super-industrial-strength tampons? Because if they do, I might be able to use one for an hour. Can someone hook me up?
So from 12-17, my periods were relatively regular. I would skip one or two but I attributed it to stress due to all the dual-enrollment and advanced classes I was taking.
At 17, I lost my virginity. I went to my grandmother about getting on birth control (for the periods, of course! I didn't tell her! And yes, my boyfriend and I were using protection). She finally agreed.
Sweet, sweet relief. Birth control pills were my savior. My periods came right on time and were light (still not light enough for tampons, but I wasn't complaining) and they would last 4-5 days! I was in HEAVEN. I still cramped, but not nearly as bad. I was praising God I was so happy.
Some time passed. My boyfriend and I broke up and I started seeing a new guy. We weren't as careful (for shame!) and I wasn't as strict on my birth control pills. I was going through a lot and, due to horrible depression, didn't care what happened to me or my body.
We dated for two years. For the final year and a half of our relationship, we didn't use condoms and I was very flighty on taking my pills. My periods became quite irregular but I was too depressed to care. We had a few pregnancy scares, but the pregnancy tests always said the same thing: Negative. At the time, I was very relieved, but I had no idea the pain and heartache I would face once I wanted children.
I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Kara and this is my way overdue, hopeless, aggravating fertility blog!
(or rather infertility)
A little about myself.
This is a little TMI, so brace yourself.
I'm currently 26 and I have PCOS (Poly-cystic Ovarian Sydrome). PCOS is one of the number one causes for infertility in women. Basically, it's a hormone disorder most notably marked by cysts on the ovaries. Cysts aren't normally a big deal - even healthy women get them every now and then. But me? Yeah. I have about 10 on each ovary and they're not budging. Each month, instead of releasing a healthy egg, I create another cyst.
This disorder causes me to have very irregular periods, or simply absent ones. You know that show I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant? I hear people talk about it like, "How could she not know she was pregnant when she missed a period?" - All I can do is facepalm. When you're like me and you sometimes skip 6-7 months of periods, it's entirely logical. Another thing PCOS causes is an increase in male hormones, most notably, testosterone. This can cause a woman with PCOS to grow a full beard. I, thank god, do not have a beard. Or maybe that's just because I shave over that area daily to prevent undergrowth. I'm paranoid.
But can you blame me?
It's fantastically fun. Truly.
Aside from the cysts, I also gain weight extremely easy. My doctor pretty much told me I could eat a grilled chicken salad and walk a mile every day and still struggle to keep my weight down.
Even more fantastic.
And my periods? Yeah. I've had a serious love-hate relationship with good ole Aunt Flo. She hates me. She never visits when she's supposed to, and when she does, she overstays her welcome and wrecks the place. In short, my period's a bitch.
"Oh my god, why are you complaining about not getting your period? I would LOVE that!"
Yeah. Except I'm not a period when it comes, I'm getting 2-3 months' worth of periods (or however long it's been since she decided to show her sorry ass up) - all at once.
A little history.
I got my period when I was 12. I had no way of knowing I had PCOS at the time, something I was born with. I had horrific periods. I would have to stay home from school, writhing and rolling around on my bed in agony. Agony. Midol wouldn't touch it. Tylenol? Forget it. Industrual strength crap from the back of the medicine cabinet for emergencies? Nada. I had to suffer.
And to make matters worse, the damn thing would last for 1-2 weeks. I honestly thought this was normal. I soon learned that it was definitely not normal.
I was raised by my grandparents and although they meant well, I should have seen a doctor. My grandmother assumed I got my "bad lady days" from her since she went through the same thing. I didn't question her since I respect my elders, but looking back, I really should have asked to see a doctor because it was definitely not normal.
And come to think of it, she had my father and then spent TEN YEARS trying for a second baby before she finally became pregnant with my uncle. Didn't that maybe ring a bell in her mind that this might just be a thing? Like, a real medical thing that I may have inherited (along with her horrible eye sight)?
And then there was school. I still cringe when I look back on my middle school days. Popular girls can be so cruel when they discover you're carrying pads in your purse and not trendy, skinny little tampons. (Seriously, why does that crap matter?). They would point and tease and ask me about my "diapers". Ugh. Little bitches. Oh how I cried.
I once tried to use a tampon, despite my grandmother's rules (Only non-virgins wear tampons), and it was an absolute disaster. It was super-plus and I went through the damn thing in less than 20 minutes. This still applies to me to this day. I only use tampons if it's all I have, and I regret it every time. Do they make super-super-industrial-strength tampons? Because if they do, I might be able to use one for an hour. Can someone hook me up?
So from 12-17, my periods were relatively regular. I would skip one or two but I attributed it to stress due to all the dual-enrollment and advanced classes I was taking.
At 17, I lost my virginity. I went to my grandmother about getting on birth control (for the periods, of course! I didn't tell her! And yes, my boyfriend and I were using protection). She finally agreed.
Sweet, sweet relief. Birth control pills were my savior. My periods came right on time and were light (still not light enough for tampons, but I wasn't complaining) and they would last 4-5 days! I was in HEAVEN. I still cramped, but not nearly as bad. I was praising God I was so happy.
Some time passed. My boyfriend and I broke up and I started seeing a new guy. We weren't as careful (for shame!) and I wasn't as strict on my birth control pills. I was going through a lot and, due to horrible depression, didn't care what happened to me or my body.
We dated for two years. For the final year and a half of our relationship, we didn't use condoms and I was very flighty on taking my pills. My periods became quite irregular but I was too depressed to care. We had a few pregnancy scares, but the pregnancy tests always said the same thing: Negative. At the time, I was very relieved, but I had no idea the pain and heartache I would face once I wanted children.
Time went by. My boyfriend broke my heart and we broke up. I thought I would never love again. Yadda yadda yadda. Seven long months later, I was waiting tables and I met the most gorgeous guy I had ever laid my eyes on. He was 23, single and had an adorable crooked smile. I had just turned 20. It was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
Our relationship started out fast. It was a whirlwind romance and we were wild. I told him I was no longer on birth control and we should be careful. He said he was born with a genetic condition causing infertility (which is a lie some guys use to get a lady in bed, but he wasn't lying!). We had both recently been screened for STDs, so we went at it without protection (something I do not recommend!).
Six months into our relationship, we got an apartment together. It was amazing, like being on a honeymoon, even though the place was a dump (we were poor and could only afford the best place on the wrong side of the train tracks!) - that was sarcasm, by the way.
A year into our relationship, my flighty periods became increasingly irregular. I was still suffering from horrible depression, something I still struggle with. Before, I would skip one period or two at the most. Now I was skipping four at a time! Of course I assumed the worst - pregnancy. I can't tell you how many negative pregnancy tests I stared at. My feelings were all over the place - I was relieved not to be pregnant, yet I was confused, concerned and anxious about our future. When we met, I was sure I didn't want children, and the fact he was infertile was simply perfect. Now I was questioning things. I loved this man and imagined myself with him forever. But if he couldn't have kids, would I really want to stick around? And on another note, what the hell was going on with me? Why was I skipping so many periods if I wasn't pregnant? So many questions.
I was too stubborn to go to the doctor, of course.
Instead, I researched for hours. It's a good thing I love to read! What I found startled me: I had all the symptoms of a nasty syndrome called PCOS. I had the unexplained weight gain, the inability to lose weight, the disappearing/absent periods, along with a few other symptoms I'd rather not discuss.
I felt devastated. I read that women with this problem often drop thousands of dollars for IVF or even donor eggs. The more I read, the more I cried. I read about one woman's 17-year-old battle to become pregnant. I felt numb.
I went to my boyfriend and discussed my concerns. It was now about two years into our relationship. He told me that due to the condition he was born with, Hypospadias, his "plumbing" was all wired incorrectly and, despite the doctors' best efforts, he would never be able to have children. However, he had never been tested to see if his swimmers were swimming. We assumed that he couldn't have kids because he was with another woman for three years and they never used protection.
I called my soon to be mother-in-law and told her I wanted to know the details because I wanted to have a child with him after we got married.
She laughed at me.
She said it was partly due to genetics (his father was born with the same condition, but not nearly as severe, and his was corrected) and partly because he was born premature. He was born at 27 weeks gestation, which is scary enough, but coupled with the fact it was 1983, my boyfriend was damn lucky to be alive. She told me that the doctors did everything they could to fix his situation. He had three major surgeries before he turned 8, all of them to correct his plumbing just enough to allow him to pee standing up. None of them were successful. She also told me that his testicles didn't descend when they were supposed to, but rather remained inside of him too long and cooked his baby-making machinery. I'm certainly not a doctor, but I did ask, "But men regenerate sperm, so what exactly was damaged?" - She told me it was everything else. He would be able to produce sperm, but they would be blank.
I cried and cried. I didn't know what to do.
He told me he didn't want to lose me and we would do whatever it took to have a baby, even if it meant using a sperm donor. I knew then that he was the man for me and we'd spend forever together.
A year later and many, many absent periods, we were married. We eloped and got married at the courthouse, prompting our families to assume I was pregnant. I wished.
Coming up next: Maybe baby?
Our relationship started out fast. It was a whirlwind romance and we were wild. I told him I was no longer on birth control and we should be careful. He said he was born with a genetic condition causing infertility (which is a lie some guys use to get a lady in bed, but he wasn't lying!). We had both recently been screened for STDs, so we went at it without protection (something I do not recommend!).
Six months into our relationship, we got an apartment together. It was amazing, like being on a honeymoon, even though the place was a dump (we were poor and could only afford the best place on the wrong side of the train tracks!) - that was sarcasm, by the way.
A year into our relationship, my flighty periods became increasingly irregular. I was still suffering from horrible depression, something I still struggle with. Before, I would skip one period or two at the most. Now I was skipping four at a time! Of course I assumed the worst - pregnancy. I can't tell you how many negative pregnancy tests I stared at. My feelings were all over the place - I was relieved not to be pregnant, yet I was confused, concerned and anxious about our future. When we met, I was sure I didn't want children, and the fact he was infertile was simply perfect. Now I was questioning things. I loved this man and imagined myself with him forever. But if he couldn't have kids, would I really want to stick around? And on another note, what the hell was going on with me? Why was I skipping so many periods if I wasn't pregnant? So many questions.
I was too stubborn to go to the doctor, of course.
Instead, I researched for hours. It's a good thing I love to read! What I found startled me: I had all the symptoms of a nasty syndrome called PCOS. I had the unexplained weight gain, the inability to lose weight, the disappearing/absent periods, along with a few other symptoms I'd rather not discuss.
I felt devastated. I read that women with this problem often drop thousands of dollars for IVF or even donor eggs. The more I read, the more I cried. I read about one woman's 17-year-old battle to become pregnant. I felt numb.
I went to my boyfriend and discussed my concerns. It was now about two years into our relationship. He told me that due to the condition he was born with, Hypospadias, his "plumbing" was all wired incorrectly and, despite the doctors' best efforts, he would never be able to have children. However, he had never been tested to see if his swimmers were swimming. We assumed that he couldn't have kids because he was with another woman for three years and they never used protection.
I called my soon to be mother-in-law and told her I wanted to know the details because I wanted to have a child with him after we got married.
She laughed at me.
She said it was partly due to genetics (his father was born with the same condition, but not nearly as severe, and his was corrected) and partly because he was born premature. He was born at 27 weeks gestation, which is scary enough, but coupled with the fact it was 1983, my boyfriend was damn lucky to be alive. She told me that the doctors did everything they could to fix his situation. He had three major surgeries before he turned 8, all of them to correct his plumbing just enough to allow him to pee standing up. None of them were successful. She also told me that his testicles didn't descend when they were supposed to, but rather remained inside of him too long and cooked his baby-making machinery. I'm certainly not a doctor, but I did ask, "But men regenerate sperm, so what exactly was damaged?" - She told me it was everything else. He would be able to produce sperm, but they would be blank.
I cried and cried. I didn't know what to do.
He told me he didn't want to lose me and we would do whatever it took to have a baby, even if it meant using a sperm donor. I knew then that he was the man for me and we'd spend forever together.
A year later and many, many absent periods, we were married. We eloped and got married at the courthouse, prompting our families to assume I was pregnant. I wished.
Coming up next: Maybe baby?
No comments:
Post a Comment