I began my ketogenic diet in April 2017. In June, I did something I had done many times before. I took a pregnancy test. My hope were high, but realistically I knew it was unlikely that I would be pregnant. I had ovulated in May, but I had ovulated multiple times over the last year. This month would probably be no different.
Except it was. Ever so slowly, a second line developed on that pregnancy test. What? For real? Was this actually happening? I snapped a picture on my phone, smiling like a fool. It had finally happened. I was pregnant.
I went to Walmart to try to find a “Daddy's favorite” type onesie to use to announce to my husband. They did not have what I was looking for, but lucky for me, it was only a couple of weeks before Father's Day. I found the perfect card. On the front it read, “Who is a Dad?” The inside answered, “YOU. You is a dad.”
Home again, I placed the two positive tests and the card inside a gift bag. I could hardly wait for my husband to arrive. He opened the card, looked at the test, and smiled slowly. Together, we started to really take it in. We were parents. After all this time, it had finally happened! Over the next few days, we started to make plans. My husband bought me roses to celebrate. We would announce my pregnancy to my family at my dad's upcoming birthday. I was due sometime in January. Things could not be going any better.
Six days after I saw those two pink lines, I began to have some spotting. Nothing major, but certainly enough to freak me out. It cleared up pretty quickly, so we figured it was not worth worrying about. The next morning, Sunday, it became clear that something was wrong. I began bleeding more heavily. We had an event at church that day we couldn't get out of, so I put on a brave face and we went together.
Close to the end of the service, I began cramping intensely. Thankfully, we were alone in the back row, so no one could see me doubled over in pain. The bleeding continued to intensify as the day progressed. I called the on-call doctor for my OB/GYN in the late afternoon. As she and I discussed my symptoms, I began to cry. Putting words to my fears made it more real, somehow. I was losing my baby.
The next couple of weeks were rough. I had an ultrasound to confirm the loss. A second one confirmed that nothing had been left behind. The technician displayed my empty uterus on the screen. When she told me there was nothing there, I could not stop the tears from spilling gently down my face.
Together, my husband and I chose a name for this life cut short. As a little memorial, I embroidered and framed the name and date together with Job 1:21b: “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” I dried the roses my husband gave me. Together, they hang on my wall in my living room.
As the months progressed, I continued to follow the ketogenic diet as much as possible. By October, the end of the six months, I had lost 20 pounds. I also had only normal menstrual cycles. I ovulated two weeks after I miscarried, and continued to ovulate on time in the months that followed. I fervently hoped and prayed for a pregnancy, but none came.
One morning in early November, I tested once again. My period wasn't late yet, but I just had to know. Was I pregnant? My hips had been more painful than usual when I stretched. I had been randomly nauseous the night before. Surely this meant something! After three agonizing minutes, I checked the test.
Two pink lines stared back at me. I was pregnant. Again.
Giddy with joy, I jumped up and down. I jigged around my living room. My cheeks hurt from smiling. but I was also nervous. I had miscarried only three months before. What if it happened again? What if I never carried to full term? What if I was never able to have children?
I held onto my secret for two whole days. Then I couldn't wait any longer. I left a positive test on the counter in the bathroom. My husband said nothing. Frustrated, I put another test on the table, and a third on his dresser. It took all day and me telling him point blank that I was nauseous and pregnant for him to say anything. He figured I would bring it up eventually, and he didn't need to mention it. (This is a very typical response from my husband. I am not sure why I expected anything different, since I knew better.)
Together we began to make plans once again. We could tell my family around Christmas, if I made it that far. My husband bought me alstroemerias. I chose a midwife. The weeks dragged on. I had an ultrasound around 8 weeks, and got to see my baby wiggling its tiny arms and legs. This was really happening!
At Christmas, we announced to my family with “Grandma” and “Grandpa” coffee mugs for my parents. Slowly, we told friends and family. I made it safely through the first trimester, then the second.
Most of my pregnancy was uneventful. We chose not to find out the gender of the baby. I had an uncomfortable rash unique to pregnancy, known as PUPPP, develop in the last few weeks. The itching was so bad I couldn't sleep.
I won't bore you with the details of my quick, accidentally unassisted homebirth here. One early morning in the first part of July, my daughter made her appearance. She was beautiful, and she was perfect. I don't have words to describe that moment, or the days that followed. I know only that I am blessed beyond measure, even on the hard days.
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Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome carries a host of symptoms. Some make life more difficult; others make it miserable. It is a condition still without an actual cure. Through time, patience, practice, and faith in my Lord Jesus Christ, I have been able to mitigate the worst of it. In fact, my period returned eight weeks after I had my daughter. (Yes, ladies, you read that right. A mere eight WEEKS! I was not a happy camper, let me tell you.) I have not had an anovulatory cycle since her birth.
I still have PCOS. I will for the rest of my life. I will always have to minimize carbohydrates, lift weights, and stay active. I shave my upper lip once a week, and I try to avoid shirts that cling to the weight I carry in my midsection, even at a healthy size. I have to fight carb cravings and binge eating impulses almost every day. But I wouldn't trade this condition for perfect health. No, ma'am. I have learned far too much.
Thanks to PCOS, I have a much more thorough knowledge of how the female reproductive system works. I know more about food and nutrition and metabolic syndrome than I ever would have otherwise. I exercise regularly, and sometimes I even enjoy it! (Don't tell my mom.) But most importantly, I have a better, deeper relationship with my Father in Heaven. I don't claim to know why I have PCOS. But I do know, without a doubt, that it has been a tool for my good and God's glory. My trust in His good providence, in His sovereignty, has been strengthened. I know that, whatever lies ahead, He is the one that guides my steps and shapes my path.
Sola Deo Gloria.
**Disclaimer: The information in this post is not intended to diagnose or treat any condition. If you have questions or concerns about what you are experiencing, please discuss them with your healthcare provider.
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