I knew when I was diagnosed with PCOS that there would be some hard days ahead, but I kept thinking, at least I have a diagnosis (even if it is soft), and at least I know why.
Turns out, just because you know the cause, doesn't mean things hurt any less.
I've been pretty open about my diagnosis and how I'm adjusting - that's who I am. I don't like keeping secrets, and I'm an advocate of full disclosure. I'm trying my hardest not to let this define me. But it is a struggle - physically and emotionally.
Physically, I have weight I can't lose and breakouts that won't go away. But emotionally? Emotionally I'm in an ocean with no flotation device, and some days it's all I can do to keep my head above water.
We want to have kids.
I want to discuss diapers, and be exhausted from 2 AM feedings, and know the joy of our child smiling at me for the first time. I want to teach them to read and use their imagination - to console them when they've had a bad day at school, and understand that sometimes being alone in your room with music blaring is just what the doctor ordered. I want to take pictures before school dances, and fight back tears at graduations. I want them to express themselves when they disagree with me, because they know I'm in it for the long haul.
But it's not happening. And most of the time I'm okay with that. Ben has a saying - "we'll have a child when we're meant to." It helps me keep things in perspective, knowing there's a plan and a whole world of bigger problems out there that we've been fortunate enough not to have dealt with.
But it is a struggle sometimes. People know we're struggling, but they still ask questions or make comments that hurt my heart, even if they have good intentions.
When I share something I'm excited about the first assumption is that I'm pregnant. Every time I don't feel well, I get questions about morning sickness and pregnancy.
And every time I hear one of those assumptions, my heart breaks a little bit.
I think of all the sticks that have said negative, and all the symptoms I've read into, hoping it meant something. I think about how I no longer trust my instincts because there have been so many times when I've just known something was different...only to realize it wasn't. I think about how it's almost laughable because I haven't been on the pill in almost two years. I think of how good Ben is with kids and how nervous he gets when holding a newborn. I think of how I'm simultaneously ecstatic for everyone in my life who is expecting, while terrified I won't ever know that feeling.
I think of how far I've come with accepting that, and how that gets reversed every time someone asks me one of those questions. And I wonder how I can not let this define me.
It's crazy to love someone so much that you want there to be another person in the world just like them.
I read this quote the other day and started crying. That is exactly it. I have so much love for Ben that my heart sometimes can't take it - it needs to be shared.
That may happen, it may not. Most of the time I can push that feeling into a corner of my brain and not worry about it. I can handle it. I can cope.
Until I get another question.