PCOS and Me

I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) about a year ago. Definitively. I say definitively because I believe there were clues from the beginning. Since I hit puberty, I never once had a regular menstrual cycle. Of course when I was young, it was attributed to the fact that I was young and as I got older, I just figured it was my norm. Throughout high school but definitely when I was 17, I gained weight. Quickly and for no reason. It was like I woke up one morning 20 pounds heavier. My childhood physician said it was due to stress and laziness. He prescribed more exercise and to "relax." I was on my HS lacrosse team, was involved with many extracurricular activities, was always outside doing something physical but every visit was the same. "You're fat because you're lazy. You have to exercise." In my 20's, my OBGYN first mentioned PCOS to me and referred me to an endocrinologist to be tested for this disease. This was over 6 years ago. This endocrinologist determined that a PCOS test was unnecessary because I only had a few of the symptoms. Instead he did a regular physical where he found out that I have alarmingly high blood pressure and a lump in my neck which would turn out to be thyroid cancer. 3 years ago, after I found a different endocrinologist, the topic of PCOS was revisited due to my continued inexplicable weight gain and irregular periods. She actually ordered the test and determined, yes I do have it. 
After going through the emotional roller coaster 6 years ago of thinking I would never have children to thanking God I don't have this terrible disease, I found it unfair that I was given false hope for 5 years. I find myself going through all these emotions again...

Lately, as I'm getting older and am thinking about having children, I find myself reading a lot of blogs about PCOS. Crying while reading the heartbreaking stories of miscarriage and infertility and cheering when reading about the success stories and women having multiple kids despite this disease.

I'm having my own struggles with PCOS. While I try to not let it define me, at my age, the social pressure to procreate is palpable. Especially after having been married for almost a year, the inevitable question "when are you going to have kids?"comes up often.

When. It's amazing how one word gets to me. I always find myself replacing when with if in my head. I know this is incredibly pessimistic. I often think of it as my defense mechanism. If I don't expect it and want it too much, maybe it'll happen for me.

The fact is, in my heart, I want it. I want it desperately. I've always wanted it. When I was asked in my youth what I wanted to be when I grew up, my answer was "a mother."

But with this diagnosis, I've tricked myself to think of kids as exhausting, expensive and unnecessary in my life. Sometimes my mind really can convince me. Kids are all consuming and being a mother is a thankless, self-sacrificing, exhausting, merciless job. One I'm not prepared for, one I don't have the energy for, one I don't want.

... but then my heart. My heart that makes me take the Metformin twice a day despite the painful side effects on my stomach. My heart that makes me ache to see that second line on a pregnancy test. My heart that makes me daydream about watching my belly swell with a precious baby inside. My heart that makes me feel the slight pangs of jealously when yet another friend announces she's pregnant.