I found this essay on a confession site. I was drawn to it because I will soon join this board...


Giving up on an "OOPS"
I’ve known pretty much my entire life that I was meant to be a mom, and to work with children in general. You know how kids are somehow just drawn to some people? That’s me. From the time I was very little, I’ve had a way with babies and kids that I can’t really explain. I just kind of get them, in a way I don’t always get adults.

Three and a half years ago, I married the love of my life. About a year and a half ago, we decided to stop “actively preventing” a pregnancy. When my husband and I work together on something, we are this amazing, unstoppable team. It still amazes me how well we mesh. So I knew if we put our mind to having a baby, we would... right?

It turns out; sometimes you need more than hope and expectation.

Having been diagnosed with PCOS years ago, and having plenty of the symptoms that come along with that: an irregular cycle, hormone imbalances, etc., I knew that I might have issues conceiving. But plenty of women with PCOS get pregnant. Members of my PCOS Yahoo! Group confirmed it for me (as much as one can). Books on PCOS and websites told me that yes, if I watched my diet, exercised, and prayed, I could easily get pregnant.

By far, one of the cruelest side effects I found during our first year of trying was having to test every month, because my body honestly can’t tell me whether I’m pregnant or not. I usually just don’t have a period. Every time I got a negative result, my heart cracked a little bit. I tried to ignore it.

In December, I went to see a reproductive endocrinologist. She sent me for every test under the Sun. Then the second shoe fell: due to back surgery I had, my fallopian tubes are completely scarred, and pregnancy on my own, or even with an intro-uterine injection, is unlikely combined with my hormone issues. Artificial hormones can only do so much, she told me.

I tried to take the news on the chin. We’d try IVF, we’d adopt, and hopefully we’d be foster parents (something we planned anyway). One way or another, I know my husband and I will be Mom and Dad.

What both he and I were completely unprepared for was the sense of loss that we felt. Everything about conceiving a child for us will have to be planned down to the minute, whether through IVF or adoption. There will be no spontaneous love making that results in a surprise baby.

I know that plenty of women would love to never have to worry about birth control or the possibility of an “Oops” baby. But once the possibility was gone, the anger at feeling like I’m less of a woman because my body doesn’t work the way it should, was initially surprising, and still hurts.

How do you mourn the conception you wanted and cannot have? How do you reconcile with the body you no longer trust, in preparation for major medical intervention?

It’s something I’m still trying to figure out, all the while preparing for my first IVF cycle.