Within the first two months that was off birth control, I got pregnant. That was in 2006. We found out on our 2nd anniversary.
The next day, I started bleeding.
I went to the doctor, they did some tests and an ultrasound and then, he told me that I had started to miscarry.
Happy Anniversary.
---------------
A year later, in May of 2007. I had what at first I thought, was a really awful, awful period. When I put two and two together, I realized that I was having a miscarraige. I never took a test to see that I was pregnant. But I knew that I was pregnant. I felt the loss. It was what one doctor called a "self-diagnosed" miscarraige.
This one hurt a little more than the first one. emotionally AND physically. This time, we were really trying.
I had a crazy job at the time. So, (like a few people who are by-standers in our journey want to do...) I contributed it to stress.
I went to the doctor again. This time I had a good doctor who explained in some detail some of the hormonal imbalances that it could possibly be. Why and what's. I felt a little silly having a man tell me all that I misunderstood about my own female body. But, I did understand a little but more. He gave me a Rx to have an insulin resistance test. On the paper he gave me it said "anovulation".
However, I still wasn't ready to start tests and treatment for baby making. I was certain that I could do the job myself (well, with a little help from my hubby :). I was pretty stubborn when it came to getting treatment. I still am, a little bit.
So, I didn't take the test.
After all, it had become, for me, an age old saying, "At least I know I can get pregnant."
...just not stay that way.
---------------
Fast forward to January 2008
That's when we moved to Ohio.
That's when we started the "real" treatment.
I went to the OBGYN and he did testing and poking and prodding and an awful thing called a uterine byopsy (scraping off a sample of the uterus...sounds fun huh?)
He diagnosed me with PCOS. (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome)
He put me on meds.
A week after he put me on Metformin, I woke up early in the morning and just felt* like I should take a pregnancy test. So I did. *Just a side note,, normally I don't just "feel" like taking pregnancy tests. I usually avoid them. They are the "one pink line" plague.
I had two pink lines.
TWO!
I woke Connel up and told him I was pregnant. He was in disbelief. So was I.
That day, I kept having the worst pain in my right side. I kept worrying that I had a tubal pregnancy. I kept worrying about the Metformin that I had just started a week before (because you know that the Metformin is not what did the job, since I was obviously pregnant before I started it.)
The pain continued that entire day and I just kept getting more and more worried about it and taking the medicine. That night, we got home from a long day. I threw all the groceries on the floor and started sobbing. Why did I even have to worry about all this crap?!! Why can't I just be pregnant and happy like any normal person?!! I was crying because I was not in control, I didn't know that was going on with MY OWN BODY! Wah! Thinking about it even now makes me want to throw something!
I called the doctor. I went for a checkup, everything was fine, I was 4 weeks along. Still in the "don't tell a soul" zone. The pain in my side? A cyst had burst.
In August we moved to Missouri. We were so excited to finally use our extra bedroom for a nursery. I was excited to look at baby clothes and even went shopping for some maternity clothes.
In September we went to visit our families, I was 8 weeks pregnant. We told Connel's family, we told my family, and we told some close friends.
At nine weeks, I miscarried...again. I was still in Idaho, Connel had to leave the next day to be at work in Missouri.
It was a miserable couple of days. I had to spend a few hours in the emergency room, luckily I had my mother by my side. I really don't know what I would have done without her support those days that I didn't have Connel.
It was miserable telling all the people that I had just told a few days ago that I was NOT pregnant anymore. Blah. It made me feel sick inside. It still does.
When I came home from Idaho. I was okay. For a few days. Then it really started to hit me. I think I would have gone into depression if it weren't for my husband's backrubs and encouraging words, daily visits to the gym, my wonderful Father in Heaven who supported me on every hand, and of course, blogging.
UPDATE:
On April 14, 2009, we found out that we were expecting a little miracle.
She will arrive the first part of December!
The next day, I started bleeding.
I went to the doctor, they did some tests and an ultrasound and then, he told me that I had started to miscarry.
Happy Anniversary.
---------------
A year later, in May of 2007. I had what at first I thought, was a really awful, awful period. When I put two and two together, I realized that I was having a miscarraige. I never took a test to see that I was pregnant. But I knew that I was pregnant. I felt the loss. It was what one doctor called a "self-diagnosed" miscarraige.
This one hurt a little more than the first one. emotionally AND physically. This time, we were really trying.
I had a crazy job at the time. So, (like a few people who are by-standers in our journey want to do...) I contributed it to stress.
I went to the doctor again. This time I had a good doctor who explained in some detail some of the hormonal imbalances that it could possibly be. Why and what's. I felt a little silly having a man tell me all that I misunderstood about my own female body. But, I did understand a little but more. He gave me a Rx to have an insulin resistance test. On the paper he gave me it said "anovulation".
However, I still wasn't ready to start tests and treatment for baby making. I was certain that I could do the job myself (well, with a little help from my hubby :). I was pretty stubborn when it came to getting treatment. I still am, a little bit.
So, I didn't take the test.
After all, it had become, for me, an age old saying, "At least I know I can get pregnant."
...just not stay that way.
---------------
Fast forward to January 2008
That's when we moved to Ohio.
That's when we started the "real" treatment.
I went to the OBGYN and he did testing and poking and prodding and an awful thing called a uterine byopsy (scraping off a sample of the uterus...sounds fun huh?)
He diagnosed me with PCOS. (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome)
He put me on meds.
A week after he put me on Metformin, I woke up early in the morning and just felt* like I should take a pregnancy test. So I did. *Just a side note,, normally I don't just "feel" like taking pregnancy tests. I usually avoid them. They are the "one pink line" plague.
I had two pink lines.
TWO!
I woke Connel up and told him I was pregnant. He was in disbelief. So was I.
That day, I kept having the worst pain in my right side. I kept worrying that I had a tubal pregnancy. I kept worrying about the Metformin that I had just started a week before (because you know that the Metformin is not what did the job, since I was obviously pregnant before I started it.)
The pain continued that entire day and I just kept getting more and more worried about it and taking the medicine. That night, we got home from a long day. I threw all the groceries on the floor and started sobbing. Why did I even have to worry about all this crap?!! Why can't I just be pregnant and happy like any normal person?!! I was crying because I was not in control, I didn't know that was going on with MY OWN BODY! Wah! Thinking about it even now makes me want to throw something!
I called the doctor. I went for a checkup, everything was fine, I was 4 weeks along. Still in the "don't tell a soul" zone. The pain in my side? A cyst had burst.
In August we moved to Missouri. We were so excited to finally use our extra bedroom for a nursery. I was excited to look at baby clothes and even went shopping for some maternity clothes.
In September we went to visit our families, I was 8 weeks pregnant. We told Connel's family, we told my family, and we told some close friends.
At nine weeks, I miscarried...again. I was still in Idaho, Connel had to leave the next day to be at work in Missouri.
It was a miserable couple of days. I had to spend a few hours in the emergency room, luckily I had my mother by my side. I really don't know what I would have done without her support those days that I didn't have Connel.
It was miserable telling all the people that I had just told a few days ago that I was NOT pregnant anymore. Blah. It made me feel sick inside. It still does.
When I came home from Idaho. I was okay. For a few days. Then it really started to hit me. I think I would have gone into depression if it weren't for my husband's backrubs and encouraging words, daily visits to the gym, my wonderful Father in Heaven who supported me on every hand, and of course, blogging.
UPDATE:
On April 14, 2009, we found out that we were expecting a little miracle.
She will arrive the first part of December!
