I was never brave enough to stop my combined pill in my early 20s. I was originally put on it to try and stop the awful symptoms I had each month. But when we felt it was time to possibly start a family, I did all the research I could, joined support groups, took the vitamins, and stopped my pill.
It was subtle at first, a bit more hair on my hairbrush than normal. More frequent coughs and colds. Then a bit of weight gain, irritability, anxiety and night sweats. I began tracking my cycle with BBT (basal body temperature) and noticing irregularities.
I’d started a new job, moved house, all the big stressful life stuff. So I put it down to that at first, my new role was more desk based so I added in more exercise to get back to what I was before. Plus every doctor I’d ever spoken to about the ovary pain, missed periods and body aches quickly dismissed me. “You’re a healthy weight, you’re doing all the right things, just relax and it will happen” everyone said.
11 long months went by, negative test after negative test. Both just 29 years old. From April to June, I went 60 days with no period. Negative pregnancy tests. Doctors said not to worry they see people who haven’t bled for way longer than that and I should be fine next month. I’m not overweight, I eat healthily, it’ll sort itself out. “The magic will happen” she said.
My friend, who was just starting this journey, wanted my advice and to track our cycle together. I agreed, why not? One more attempt before we go see the fertility specialist. Our charts were identical. “It’s a sign” she said. I laughed it off. 10dpo (days past ovulation) – her test is positive, mine is negative, I begin to bleed 2 days later.
I start a new cycle as normal, trying to pin down my next ovulation date. But something is off. I also notice strange spotting mid cycle which never happens to me. I take both an LH test and a HCG test, just to check the new cheap box of tests I’d brought in. Both positive. I sit on the bathroom floor in complete shock and disbelief. We get more tests, 1-2 weeks says the digital, a blue cross, two pink lines. This is it.
Two days later, I spike a huge fever and get rushed to the out of hours doctor. They run a few tests and confirm I’m pregnant but also have a UTI, so they prescribe me pregnancy-safe antibiotics.
We flew away on holiday as planned, and our only bathroom in the house was finally being replaced while we were away. As the week went on, all of my mild pregnancy symptoms completely disappeared. My hands went cold, and I knew deep down something was wrong.
The day we landed, I took another test, to see if the 1-2 weeks had gone up to 3 weeks. I also took a cheaper pink dye to see if the lines had gone darker. They didn’t. Stayed faint. 1-2 weeks the digital said. I also had left side pain.
According to my dates, I should be 6 weeks along, something was terribly wrong. We went for a private early scan to see if there was any signs of an early pregnancy. Instead, they saw a 5cm cyst on my left ovary, multiple bulky follicles on the right and a bicornuate, severely tilted uterus. Pregnancy of unknown location.
The weeks that followed were mental and physical torture. Weekly blood draws by the GP, a midwife “booking appointment” that turned into an EPAU referral and a chat about polycystic ovaries.
Finally, 3 weeks later, I received proper care at the EPAU (early pregnancy assessment unit). I had to be referred via A&E when the ovarian cyst was suspected to have ruptured and I was in agony. HCG draws 2 days apart. It stayed at levels similar to 4-5 weeks. Finally, on the third draw, they saw the HCG levels start to drop. A further scan showed my cyst had shrunk. The sonographer said I “wasn’t a textbook case” of polycystic ovaries, but that’s definitely what I have, and I should push for further blood tests and help to conceive in future. But it can take years.
I’m still miscarrying, HCG is slow to drop, so even more blood draws, procedures, unanswered questions are in my future. My journey is not over.
“At least you’re early” many say. I’m still in a complete daze about it all. For a brief moment, I was finally pregnant after nearly a year of nothing. And now all I have to show for it are some positive HCG strips, bruised arms and a bloated stomach.
Many offer advice without truly listening to me, but I’ve really appreciated it when people listen first. The truth is, we don’t need to discuss adoption or egg donation or what yoga routine is best right now. The harsh reality is I’m still miscarrying and just need to be reminded that it’s ok to cry, it’s ok to stop, it’s also perfectly ok to try and go about your day keeping active too. Do whatever you need to do to cope.
To anyone who has gone through a chemical, an early miscarriage, pregnancy of unknown location, you are still 1 in 4. You still deserve to be heard, held and supported.
My poem:
Take me back to the moment when
I jumped for joy as we had tried again
After a year of nothing going right
Two pink lines… there in plain sight.
Are you sure? Can we go and get more?
Tears of joy, until my eyes felt sore.
Something didn’t quite add up though
The dates, the bleeds, but we hoped, prayed and wanted you to grow.
Then two days later, a fever began
UTI they said, but I knew I needed a scan
Something deep in my soul
Told me to test again, my hands had gone cold
No darker, no progression,
“1-2 weeks”
Said the screens in quick succession
Hands shaking, tears flooding back
Rang 111, booked a scan, anxiety attack
We’re really sorry, there’s no gestational sac
I want you to give your doctor a call back
There’s clear signs of endometriosis, pcos and bicornuate tilted womb
Shaking, I felt like a walking, talking tomb
Is it possible for a cyst to cause a false positive?
“Yes it is” said the GP, “let’s dot the Is and cross the Ts”
Why on earth is this happening to me?
Deep breaths, blood draws
Bruises galore, my arms are sore
So many needles, questions and waiting
Pregnancy of unknown location, suffocating
“My friend did this and she’s now got three”
“Why don’t you adopt” or “you can take one of my kids off me”
“Leave it to God, stop trying”
Meanwhile there’s me, shaken, crying
I know my body, “but for pcos you’re so thin”
No one else feels the pain I am in
You haven’t seen me curled up on the bathroom floor
The many painkillers, heat packs galore
Of course not
Any more “if you just” and I’ll lose the plot
These are conditions I’ll live with forever
It takes all my strength to keep it together
Practice gratitude, move, celebrate joy,
“but you’ve married such a nice boy”
“Not very family orientated is she?”
Now you see me. Standing toe to toe with the monster of infertility.
