9 Jan 17 i.e D-Day

The 9th of January 2017 will always be a date I’ll remember, which is a big thing for me considering I rely way too much on Facebook for birthday prompts. That was the day that I found out I was in fact pregnant. Some of you may be thinking how is this a surprise? How did you not know you could be pregnant? Were you not protecting yourself? Answers: it’s complicated, I didn’t think it could be possible and well no, not really.

I’ll delve into a little bit of my personal medical history to perhaps paint a clearer picture. When I became sexually active at age 16 with my first boyfriend my dad took me to thbe doctor and put me straight on a contraception. From then on for the next 4 and a half years I tried a variety of different pills, trying to find the right one for me. One that didn’t cause too much weight gain, mood swings or just made me feel generally off. One day I took myself off contraception altogether and we practiced another form of safe sex, condoms. Towards the end of our relationship I lost a lot of weight, around 30kg and while this did wonderful things to my body and shape it also seemed to slow down my period cycles. Eventually they just stopped altogether.

Over the next couple of years having no periods didn’t really bother me, I was single, I didn’t have to worry about tampons and crabby period pain. One doctor tried to tell me it was quite normal after being on contraception for a few years. I still took pregnancy tests every once in a while, obviously naive to the fact you needed to have a period in order to ovulate and then be inpregnanted, but each one always came up negative.

Fast foreward another year and I’m in a very new, very exciting relationship with my now current boyfriend. My skin was pretty gross and I was quite moody so I decided maybe it was time to go have a friendly chat with the doctor. I left the appointment that day feeling rather emotional and then further google searching (which by the way is never a good idea) left me believing and from what I had been informed by a professional, it would take me an abnormally long time to conceive. Or not conceive naturally at all.

I was informed I had Polycystic Ovaries. Fun fact it is estimated that 1 in 10-15 women have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. Basically what it means is is that our sex hormones estrogen and progesterone are out of balance which leads to the growth of cysts in the ovaries. It screws up your menstrual cycle, fertility and does other weird things to your appearance, like acne and hair growth.
I guess after a while, you just get over the fact your slightly weird and carry on with every day life.

The boyfriend got a job in a different city and we packed up and moved eight hours away from our friends and family to start a new chapter. It was great for a start, but the constant traveling my partner does for his work started to get to me slightly and my moods changed. I felt down all the time. I had just started a new job, didn’t have any friends and I couldn’t really afford the old luxuries anymore. I decided I needed to help. Some medical help. I bought some hormonal support pills and they really helped. After a month or two I actually started getting a period again.
Two months of periods later I was not-so-greatly anticipating the arrival of a bloody Christmas but alas, it was late. I was crampy, my boobs were so sore and I knew something wasn’t right. I never spoke to the boyfriend about it and decided to wait until we got back home away from the family before I’d take a test.. I think we all know the next part but yes. There were two lines, then another two, then a few tears as I told my boyfriend our news.

That was the 9th of January 2017, a not-so-bloody emotional day.


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