The Waiting Game

This post is being published today. But it was written on April 17, 2010. Read on.

In October my doctor started me on Metformin. It's a diabetes drug. I do not have diabetes. I have poly-cystic ovarian syndrome, or PCOS. For reasons that doctors can't quite explain, Metformin is often successful in treating women with PCOS and making their bodies do the right thing and ovulate. Metformin did not work for me. It made me nauseated 95% of my waking hours. I learned a lot of empathy in the month or so that I was on it; that is the one really positive thing that I can take away from that experience. I now know what it is like to feel sick so constantly that it really is an accomplishment to do something small like take a shower or empty the dishwasher.

After the Metformin debacle, my doctor transferred me to another doctor. That doctor put me on Clomid. Round one resulted in no side effects (which I was positively terrified about, thank you Internets). Round one also resulted in no ovulation. And I learned a valuable thing in that month: I really should get used to a lot of waiting. Waiting to start my next cycle so I could take Clomid. Waiting for day 21 so I could get the progesterone test (which, thankfully was a blood-draw test instead of a pee-in-a-cup test.) Waiting for the doctor to call with the result. Waiting to start my next cycle so I could do it again.

Round two was a higher dose. Day 21 came and blood was drawn. The progesterone test came back showing no ovulation. In fact, my doctor was surprised at how low my progesterone levels were. He said next month we'd do the usual progesterone test. Plus two other hormones. I was really excited about the cost of all this. Meanwhile wait until the next cycle. And because my body is historically insane when it comes to this sort of thing, the waiting could be for quite some time.

Day 45 rolled around. Not unusual for me to go this long, but I was beginning to wonder. And then of course I would push those hopes aside because I hadn't ovulated by day 21, so I couldn't possibly be pregnant. Days 50, 51 and 52 involved me leaning over the sink gagging while brushing my teeth. Now, that was unusual.

Day 53 was the day of a pregnancy test, which despite all the signs pointing to pregnancy (not all of which have been enumerated here), I did not believe would be positive. But I was wrong. And I'm due November 29.

And we couldn't be happier.