I didn’t know I was pregnant. But the baby didn’t stay. Because of my PCOS, my body couldn’t “home” the baby. The doctor says, “Chances of you having children is less than likely than most women.”
2 years later, out of pure luck and not even trying, I conceived. Scared to death every time there was even a small delay of movement. Thoughts, “Oh no, the baby isn’t moving.” “Oh no, I don’t want to lose this baby too.” Nine months go by, I give birth to a beautiful healthy little baby boy.
That baby boy is 6 years old now and his daddy and I want another. It’s been nearly two years of trying. 6 months with medication. Pills after pills, increasing their dosage each month. Adding in another pill which makes me super sick. I ask myself, “Is another baby really worth all of this sickness? All of this exhaustion?” I want to say yes, but I’m struggling. I’m struggling so hard. Because that’s just it. I am so sick, I am so exhausted, but I am so wanting this. I WANT THIS BAD. I just can’t take the heart break month after month.
Seeing pregnancy announcements—one after another makes me envy these women. Some of them even make me angry. I think to myself, “You shouldn’t even be having kids! Why are you able to get pregnant and I’m not?!” HOW IS THIS FREAKING FAIR?!