Stop Keeping Secrets

So here’s the thing with trying to have a baby… Much like mental health, there’s this stigma attached to it. We don’t talk about it. Sure, women whisper about it, when they’re in private, and can’t be overheard, but beyond that it’s a silent process.

I hate that.

For instancs: When I was growing up, if someone was pregnant, you didn’t announce it to anyone, until you passed the end of the first trimester, around 10-12 weeks in! Why is this the case, some of you might ask? The most common time to miscarry is in the first trimester. Within the first 3 months of discovering you’re carrying a baby, is the most likely time that you will miscarry for a variety of reasons.

Why are women discouraged from announcing their pregnancy before they’re out of the first trimester, though?

TO KEEP YOUR LOSS PRIVATE. To keep the loss of your child a secret from the world. To deal with it privately. To not admit that anything began to grow, and couldn’t continue. To put on a happy face and say ALL IS WELL.

I HATE THAT.

I have not experienced a miscarriage, but I cannot fathom the amount of emotional turmoil that results. Imagine this with me, for a moment: You discover there is a life inside of you, and begin to imagine that life’s life. Is it a boy, is it a girl? Will it like to play sports, will it like music, will it like engineering, medicine, philosophy? Will it want to sing, dance, build, draw, sculpt? What will bring it joy? Will it like dinosaurs, trucks, elephants, giraffes, tigers, dogs, cats, chinchillas? You’re told not to tell anyone (except your partner, of course, that this is happening because it’s “risky”) Then one day, that little life is taken away. Before you are able to meet one another. Before you can look this little life in the eyes and welcome it to the world. AND THE REST OF THE WORLD HAS NO IDEA. Can you imagine this? Because it’s been kept a secret, you’ll need to go back to work, do your job, live your life, as though this little life never existed.

FUCK THAT.

Let’s break this stigma. I encourage all people, not just women who are pregnant: Tell the world. Let us share in your joy. Let us share in any potential sorrow, big or small. Let us share in your life, in it’s entirety. There is more to life than the good moments. (If you don’t agree with me here, you might just want to stop reading and not come back. <-Dead serious. You might be deluded.) LIFE SUCKS SOMETIMES. But you know what, we should all be able to share those parts, too.

If I learned anything from opening up about my fertility issues back in May in “Not A Mother’s Day” it’s this: WE ARE ALL GOING THROUGH LIFE. OUR EXPERIENCES AND OUR PATHS WILL CROSS IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS. Support is not far away.

***

That being said, let me share some stuff with you. Some of you may already know some of this, but here it all is and you’re so welcome in advance:

I have Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome.

My OBGYN, Dr. S is amazing. Martin and I went to our first appointment with her at the beginning of August. She was kind, thorough, encouraging but direct, which I appreciated beyond belief.

Dr. S put me on this medication called Metformin to regulate my insulin. (No, I’m not diabetic, but insulin has a lot to do with hormone regulation has a lot to do with cycle regularity and PCOS fucks with that hardcore.) Metformin has been proven to really help women with PCOS to conceive because reasons. (long story short it’s proven to stimulate regular ovulation and cycle regularity)

Metformin is also the most difficult medication I have ever taken in my life. Because it works with insulin/blood sugar/hormones, what I eat has a direct and almost instant effect on the way that I feel. For instance, take a diabetic individual for example: They should be avoiding carbs and sugar, because that elevates their levels, and isn’t so great for them, right? Right. Well for me, on Metformin, carbohydrates and sugars interact negatively together and make me physically ill. I’m talking nausea TO THE EXTREME. Burping. Stomach cramps. Never vomiting, but severe aversion to any food/drink/substance other than water. For hours.

Know what that means? Dr. S says, “I’m going to need you on a low carb/low sugar diet. Essentially eat like a diabetic, but you don’t need to take your sugars, you’ll just know you’re doing it right.”

SHIT was she right.

Martin being the saint husband that he is, agreed he’d jump on board with this diet too, and that has been the greatest help so far. I try to have less than 100g of carbs and sugar (combined) a day (yeah, that means no pasta, bread, rice, baked goods, pastries, potatoes, basically all the good things I have grown to love), otherwise there are endless symptoms and miserably unproductive days full of whining, complaining and feeling guilty and shitty.

We went low carb/low sugar on August 4th.

I have lost 16.7 pounds.

No, I didn’t take before photos, so I have nothing to compare this to. I’m proud of myself. I still have a ways to go, and the journey is still long, but I think I’m proving to myself that I am willing to make the trek. The rest of the results from this journey are yet to be seen, but you know I’ll update you. BECAUSE WE SHOULD ALL SHARE THINGS, ALL THE TIME!

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