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.


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