More important than I thought

“Hmmm,” my doctor said. “Well, I can add another test for your blood work…. but you definitely have PCOS (Polycystic ovary syndrome).”

I nodded. The diagnosis felt heavier than her words sounded.

“You have irregular periods and hirsutism.”

I must have looked confused because she started to explain.

“Hirsutism is excess hair growth on your face and other parts of your body.”

The hairs I’d been too rushed to pluck that morning were what tipped her off. She offered some meds to help with the hair growth; I declined. She offered the pill to regulate my period; I declined.

“Doesn’t PCOS mean that it will be hard for me to get pregnant,” I asked.

“Yes,” she said calmly. “But when it’s time for you to get try, we can give you Clomid to help you ovulate.”

Again the words coming out of her mouth felt heavy, but her tone was light.

I don’t remember much else of the appointment. I actually, don’t think much else happened after that. I told her I’d probably explore my job’s fertility benefits. She said to keep her posted.

I was calm on the outside, but I felt a spiral coming on. I thought about my past relationship and all the situationships before it. I thought about her Clomid comment. When would it be time to try? Who would I be trying with? For years, I thought something was “off” with my body, but this was confirmation. What if I couldn’t actually have children. Going into my 33rd year without any dating prospects meant that I wouldn’t be trying any time soon. The timeline for meeting someone, falling in love with them, getting married, being married long enough to start trying would all clearly put me at trying to get pregnant in my late 30s. Did fertility drop after 35? I would definitely be older than 35 and thus battling age, plus PCOS, and a thyroid problem. And yeah, everything doesn’t happen on a timeline but technically I couldn’t even accidentally get pregnant. I’d have to try try.

Spiral.

Spiral.

Spiral.

The thing is, before the diagnosis I was certain that something was “off” and I couldn’t get pregnant, I’d adopt and that would be that. With one appointment that shifted. Suddenly, I realized that having a child biologically and being genetically connected to said child was actually more important to me than I thought.

I made my way to a juice shop and ordered something hella green. I put my headphones on and Googled “PCOS,” “PCOS treatment,” and “PCOS and infertility.”

Spiral.

Feelings.

Overwhelm.

Not how I wanted to start my birthday weekend.