I knew it was probably too good to be true. I naively thought that maybe – just maybe – having babies was all it would take to get my cycles back on track. And I got almost a year of perfect 30-day cycles. I thought I was in the clear. I got cocky. And that’s when my body decided to give me the big old one finger salute.
It’s cd17 and I have not even a single sign of ovulation. Instead, I have signs all over the place of PCOS. I’ve gained weight recently, though my diet has stayed pretty much the same. The OPKs I take have the darker, though not positive, second line, indicating elevated LH. And my hair is starting to look thin again.
All of this points to one thing – PCOS. It’s back. I feel panicky, like I missed my only chance to try for #3, assuming I even wanted a third. To be honest, it was just so nice to be normal for a while. It was nice to know my body was getting ready to release an egg and to make a conscious decision not to do anything about it. I had control of my body – finally! But it turns out I have control of nothing. My asshole body does whatever the fuck it wants to do. And that, for the majority of my life, has been nothing. I guess my body tried it’s hand at working but found that it prefers a life of leisure. Well, don’t we all.