PCOS Pregnancy Diaries

I’ve been blessed with a beautiful baby boy (despite struggles with PCOS for 5 years). He was conceived naturally, after 3 months of trying (and many years if healthy eating after being diagnosed with PCOS). He is a 16 month old busy body and the light of my life. :)

Just after Baby N’s 1st birthday, my hubby wanted to try again. I was excited too... it would mean a smaller age gap between the kids. I had a first tough year with Baby N though... not because he was a difficult child, but I think I found it a lot harder to adjust to motherhood than I thought and I do miss how relaxed life was before this. It made me wonder how I would cope with a baby and a toddler, it felt overwhelming. I was still excited though.

We tried... and I fell pregnant within a month! I was so surprised and not expecting this at all. I thought it would take a while, especially because I was almost 6kg heavier than I was when I conceived Baby N.

2 positive pregnancy tests later, I realised I was around 5 weeks pregnant. Nausea and sleepiness in full swing. I was exhausted being pregnant with a toddler in tow.

10 weeks on (a few days ago) I had bad tummy cramps that started at 11pm at night and a little bit of jelly textured discharge that was dark brown in colour. I called the doctors, they said to take some pain killers, put a hot water bottle on my belly and get some rest. They said I’d need to see my GP first thing in the morning.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night. The aches and pains in my belly felt like the worst period pains I’d ever had combined with the repetitiveness of contractions. It wasn’t as bad as being in labour, but it was painful enough to keep me awake.

6am the next morning, I had to pee and noticed a lot of fresh, red blood. Rushed to the hospital in severe pain. The doctor looked at my down there region... and they said I was passing a lot of blood and clots.

I had miscarried.

I think had this been my first pregnancy, it would have been devastating. I know a lot of women find an experience like this very emotionally draining. My family were so concerned and I could see how upset my husband was. “It was a child” he said to me, “and it makes me feel so grateful that we have Baby N.” He was amazingly supportive and told me he was proud of me for going through everything and he held my hand through the whole ordeal.

I feel sad. I also feel relieved. Relieved that it wasn't worse (an ectopic pregnancy or something that would involve surgery). I feel sad that my body rejected this egg... but the doctors say it’s our bodies way of protecting us from an egg that may not be healthy.

1 in 3 women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. It is common, it happens, no matter how careful we may be and how well we look after our bodies, what is meant to happen will happen.

Before I was a parent, I was the perfect one. People told me my life would change. People told me I would be tired. That parenthood would be the greatest and hardest thing I would ever do. 

Yeah yeah yeah. I know. I know. I knew everything. 

My family would just smile and nod at my ignorance, and I wonder now if they were scared for me.

I recently sat in a friend's baby shower. I was surrounded by women making light hearted jokes about new parenthood, about sleep depravation, and pregnancy cravings. They exchanged recommendations for swaddle blankets and butt creams. Underneath the small talk and "oohing" and "ahhing" over tiny gifted baby clothes, sat the realness, the hardness of motherhood. I could feel that every mom in the room, behind their sleepless sunken eyes, knew what that meant; they had felt that weight, but they only had the heart to give gifts and hugs and congratulations. I sat there in silence, when all I wanted to do was talk and talk and talk about how new motherhood really can be. To let her in on all the real secrets of being a mother.

I wanted so badly to prepare my friend somehow for the wave that was about to wash over her.

I was there too, belly rounded with life, yesterday. I had the iPhone app, the "Welcome Baby" books, the nursery that I had pinned on my Pinterest. I had the trendy pacifiers, the over packed hospital bag, the pretty dresses my girl would probably never wear. We toured the hospital. I googled birth stories while rounding my hips on a yoga ball. And I learned all about how you breath a baby out of your lady parts.

I remember eating whole pineapples, and choking down giant Evening Primrose Oil pills by the handful to will my baby out of my uterus. 

I was ready.

It took what felt like seven years for her to arrive. More specifically, 41 weeks and 1 day. That extra eight days made me extra prepared. I remember sitting, ecstatic, in the hospital, after the epidural had been administered. I was too giddy to sleep. 

Oh, the time had finally come, and I was so ready.

Then in a blink, she was here. She was tiny and marveling. She was so incredibly beautiful. She was perfect.

But wait. I am not ready. This is so hard. I am so tired. Why hadn't anyone prepared me for this?

I. Know. Nothing.

If I was sitting across from that very pregnant, very eager and naive version of myself, I would tell her this:

The love you will feel is nothing like you have felt before. It will be foreign and familiar all at once. It will fill you to the very top of your heart, nearly spilling over. The thing about this kind of love, though, is that it can feel heavy. Disproportional. You may feel like you will nearly break in half from the top-heaviness. You will not be able to tell the difference between exhaustion and depression, and that darkness will rob you from what should be the most tender months of your daughter's new life. 

Your baby will cry, a lot. Your days will both begin and end with the saddest screams you will ever hear. Your body will respond the way that it is programmed to - with panic. You will google everything from "dissecting baby poo" to "newborn who hates life." And you will come up short. You will always come up short.

Your baby will only sleep in ten minute increments. In a plastic rocking chair. (Don't buy a plastic rocking chair.) In the bathroom. With the bath water running. 

You will feel like you are going mad, day after day, alone in that bathroom. Between the sound of the water running and her screams, you may feel like your nerve endings will be permanently frayed. 

At the endless ER trips that you take you will be written off as "The Paranoid New Mom." (Press on.) They will give you pamphlets on "Colic," and that just will not cut it. For awhile, nursing will be excruciating, and your baby will fight it, hard. Contrary to the laws of nature, Anabel will not come out knowing how to siphon milk from your body. Also, panic will flood your body when your milk lets down the majority of the time. Yes, breastfeeding induced anxiety attacks are a thing, and it will happen to you. (Hormones are jerks.)

Did I mention how depleted you will feel? 

Eating, and sleeping, and showering are not a part of this season (not often anyway), and right now, in the thick of it, this season will feel never ending. While others' newborns are napping sweetly in their stylish organic leggings via Instagram, yours is miserable. There are over 2 billion mothers in the world, yet you will feel deeply alone. Compared to everyone else, you are failing. No matter how many hands you have on deck, you will be deserted.  

This love will crush your ego. It will destroy your capability to trust yourself. The fear that creeps in the shadows of this love will paralyze you. Strangers will call your newborn "mean." Loved ones will say you are giving your baby too much attention. (Neither of those things exist.) You will feel guilty for not measuring up. You will feel guilty for feeling guilty. You will feel guilty for feeling guilty for feeling guilty. You will cry over absurd things, like not being pregnant anymore. And over massive things, like the way your body has transformed because of pregnancy. You may never feel like you will get the hang of carrying this love.

But what if I told you that one day your daughter would smile? That she would even laugh? And so will you. Her intestines will eventually develop and digest food, and she will not scream excessively anymore. You will find answers to everything you questioned. I would even tell you that your doctor will admit that you were right all along. Saying, "you guys owe me an 'I told you so' on that one." That will feel pretty great. 

I would also tell you that it gets better. Oh, how it does. She will learn how to sleep and nurse. And I would even tell you she gets really great at both.  I would tell you to find the hope in your daughter's eyes. As they lighten, so will that weight. 

Though you may never have parenthood all figured out, there will be a day when you will find a way to wrap that love around yourself, instead of being buried in it. 

And though it is hard to believe, one day you will have a vivacious, smart, and unbelievably happy little girl. A girl that absolutely adores the world. And you will have clean hair, and time to make breakfast for yourself in the morning. 

You will.

Hold on to that truth. There will be a day that you will marvel over the fact that the girl in front of you is the same baby that was so unhappy before.

You will be better. You will grow. You will adjust, and settle, and adjust again. That is what motherhood is, I think. Finding ways through the good heartbreak to fit more love inside of you. There will always be something that stretches your capacity for more. You will learn how to balance the goodness with the heaviness. 

And, I beg you, embrace that things will always feel unfinished. Let unfinished be okay. Let unfinished be enough.

It is enough. It is enough. It is enough.

It's been 9 whole months since I last updated my Tumblr. Here's everything that happened before and after November 2013 (my last post):

- Diagnosed with PCOS in Mar 2011.

- Worried for 2 years that I may not be able to have children (even though Z and I hadn't started trying for kids yet and were using protection).

- Followed a Low GI diet, exercised when I could and lost/maintained my weight for the first time in my life, which in turn helped somewhat regulate my irregular periods.

- Started trying for a baby in Dec 2012/Jan 2013.

- Fell pregnant in Feb/Mar 2013 - with PCOS and within 2 months of trying for a baby. :)

- Despite having PCOS, I had a normal pregnancy (by normal I mean nausea, insomnia, aches, pains, swelling). xD

- Our beautiful, baby boy was born one week early (39 weeks) on the 16th November 2013. <3

- He is now a sweet, healthy, smiley 9 month old and the light of my life.

This morning I was having a cuppa tea and waiting for Z to come downstairs to say goodbye to him before he went to work, and I felt a little gush of liquid which felt a lot like pee but weirdly unlike pee, I couldn't control it.

Went to the bathroom to check and saw a some mucus-ey, light blood. :o

Called the hospital and they asked me come in for a checkup, despite me not feeling any pain (other than light period-cramp like pains over the past week or so).

Turns out that was a bloody show... and they monitored baby's heart beat and my contractions for half an hour.

I am having Braxton Hicks contractions, very mild (scoring 25 on the contraction machine - and I was told by the midwife that labour pains score a 100?! Whoa). Baby's heartbeat is averaging 140 which is good. :) So glad it happened before Z went to work!

Overall, feeling very calm and happy (not what I expected to feel tbh) but happy to feel calm and happy. :D

Z got so nervous, he got a runny tummy and sent messages to everyone, so our whole family thinks I went into labour. xD Glad that we had this 'false alarm' because it's made me realise what great family I have. And everyone, including myself, are on their toes.

I didn't call my parents until we got back from the hospital though, because I know they would worry. And they are worried now, judging from the phonecalls I've gotten from them in the past hour. :P

Cramps are getting worse... and I can tell when I have a mini contraction because I can feel my tummy tighten? It's the coolest feeling though. :P

Putting all the last minuted items into my hospital bag and mum-in-law has been a sweety and offered to cook meals for us over the next few days.

Z gets his 2 weeks holiday starting tomorrow! And then an additional 2 weeks of paternity leave... and this makes me so happy because ofcourse he'll be home with me. But it hit me yesterday that, hopefully if all goes well, we will have a healthy, happy baby in our lives within the next month too... so today is officially the last day I will be on my own, ever. For a very long time.

We made it baby! :)

A year ago I would've never dreamed I would have been pregnant, let alone have had a fairly normal pregnancy (Thank you, God).

The other day while shopping, a considerate male cashier felt the need to comment on my appearance. Which made me come home and write this :

1) To all men who feel they need to comment on how tired I look... Yes, I am tired. I am tried because I have been carrying a life inside of me for 8 months. The day you turn into a woman and carry a baby inside you that feels just like your carrying a bowling ball in your belly is the only time you will EVER be able to understand what I go through. I have spent the greater part of a year throwing up, having gallons of blood tests done on me, feeling aches and pains I've never felt before, seeing my body morph into something I can't even fathom, gaining 15kg and I am still able to smile, dress pretty, wear makeup, cook food, clean a home, have a career, take care of a family and put up with your shit. I'm going to push a baby out of my vagina in less than a month. Don't you dare ever say I look tired. Say 'gurl you look fabulous for what you're going through'. 

2) To all the men who feel the need to say 'but you look so tired and you're only 8 months! You still have one month to go! Some women work right until they deliver you know.'... Yes, I do know many woman work right until they deliver. My Mum was one of them and I admire them all because they are all amazing women. I also admire stay at home mums, work from home mums, woman who don't work and chose to run a home, woman who chose to keep themselves occupied with activities other than a career. Just because I have chosen not to have a career at 8 months pregnant, does not mean I do not 'work'. I admire all women for just being able to carry a baby inside you because I know it isn't the easiest thing to do.

3) To all men who feel the need to compare my pregnancy with someone else's. Remember no one is created the same, we are all different and we will all go through different pregnancies and we will all have different tolerences to pain. 

To all men, do not for ONE SECOND EVER ASSUME you know what a pregnant woman goes through.

To all men, do not for ONE SECOND EVER COMPARE two woman unless you would like us to compare you to another man who we feel is supposedly more capable than you