“You will probably have a hard time getting pregnant and a high rate of miscarriages.”  The first automatic thought that inserts itself into my stream of consciousness when people ask me about my pregnancy experience.  

Just before finding out I was newly pregnant, a physician assistant informed me I had polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS).  Though all my blood work and hormone levels were completely within normal limits, she explained I had PCOS due to suffering from acne as a teenager and periodically as an adult.  She then proceeded to tell me, “You will probably have a hard time getting pregnant and a high rate of miscarriages.”  She continued explaining I may have to be treated with metformin to assist with ovulation and instilled quite a bit of anxiety and self-doubt about my biological ability to become a mother.  

After researching common symptoms of PCOS, I did not think the PA’s medical opinion was correct and neither did my husband, who is a physician.  Nonetheless, I still had deep concern at the pit of stomach that I may not ever become pregnant and/or if I do, I will lose our baby.  DEVASTATING.  I know too many women who have miscarried once, twice, even more.  The loss of a child is unfathomable, born and unborn.  

So, what did I do?  Not to sound cavalier, but I approached family planning the same way I approach making dinner.  I just went along with what was handed to me.  I didn’t worry about the end result; I didn’t make it a chore.  I just had fun with the process and assumed I would achieve a successful result.  When I stress about something, I become hyperfocused on details and the outcome is rarely positive.  Let’s use calorie counting as an example, which is something I don’t do because it promotes disordered eating habits for me.  If I were to tell myself I can only eat 1500 calories a day, I am going to spend too much of my time tracking, loathing, wishing, wanting, and worrying about it.  I’m going to want that chocolate chip cookie I “shouldn’t” have because it doesn’t fit into my calorie count.  I’ll stress about it, I know me.  Too much stress creates elevated levels of cortisol in the body, which leads to a myriad of other mental and physical illnesses, including weight gain (even if I stuck with that calorie goal) and mental fatigue.  

Within days of seeing that PA and being told such heavy, albeit inaccurate, information, I was pregnant.  Now, I took five pregnancy tests the day I found out.  Then one every two or three days because of that miscarriage statement.  I wanted to be sure I was still pregnant.  “Oh, no! This pink line looks less prominent than yesterday’s pink line.”  KELSEY, CHILL (current me talking to August 2019 me).  All in all, I had a bag of about 20 pregnancy tests by the time I hit my second semester, at which time I felt confident I would not miscarry and little lady was here to stay.  I saw that PA at each of my checkups, she was so surprised I was pregnant.  All I said to her was, “Well, that was fast.”  On second thought, I may ask her to reimburse me for all those pregnancy tests.  They are not exactly inexpensive.

As I am proofreading this, I don’t exactly know why I am sharing this story.  I guess it highlights a few themes for me. 

1. Medical professionals can be wrong. 
2. A healthy body starts with a healthy mind. 
3. Women lose babies, we don’t talk much about it, and I believe there is not enough support out there for those women. 
4. I am so incredibly fortunate to have had a successful, easy pregnancy, and I forgive myself for ever doubting my body and the miraculous deeds it can accomplish.