One of the things that really makes me angry about PCOS, is the feeling of being robbed-- robbed of those early days of pregnancy. Robbed of normality.
I feel robbed of the joy of Telling. Normal women Tell in all kinds of creative ways-- there are entire threads in pregnancy forums devoted to sharing creative ways of Telling the News. I don't get to do that.
I don't Tell. I keep it a secret. I hide it away in a hesitant place in my heart. My first thoughts are not of new babies and cute clothes and cozy hours ahead with the knitting. My first thoughts are of pain and loss and apprehension and emotional upheaval. And then, as the weeks go by and things continue, I begin to share a little. I show the test to my sister. I call a dear friend. I ask for prayer. They jump and shout and cry and congratulate, but I caution. I withdraw. I hesitate. I hedge.
I feel robbed of all the joyful Buying. Normal women go out and shop for cute maternity clothes. They admiringly despair over their popping bellies and compare them to "last time I didn't show till at least twelve weeks!" They buy "I'm the Big Brother" shirts for the older children, take pictures and post it on their blogs.
I don't buy anything. I rubber-band my pants button and wear J's shirts and bulky sweaters and coats. I can't bear to tell my kids and run the risk of "un-telling" them later. Last time Sofi cried and asked questions and it was more than I could bear to go through again. I neglect my blog for two months and try to avoid playdates.
PCOS reduces my pregnancies to a statistic. It takes me months to relax away from "50%-60% chance of..." into being pregnant. Expectant. Hopeful.