After 14, now going on 15 months of TTC, I really thought it was our time. After 4 months of no period, I had a positive test, and went to see my doctor for an HCG blood test to see if it was true (after seeing months of negatives, a positive feels too good to be true). And well, my wishes were just that, too good to be true.

I've met with 2 doctors about PCOS now, symptoms I've explained away my whole life, now seemingly coming together, coming to a head. I was placed on Provera to regulate my cycle. I'm now starting Letrozole, with my first cycle in 4 months, to help egg release. I can't ignore the frustration, I never thought I'd be in this place. Everyone tells me to stop trying so hard, to just let it happen, as if I'm having sex wrong? I'm sick of hearing everyone say I'll be a great mother one day, because they love how I interact with their kids. I'm sick of people asking me when my husband and I will have a child. I'm sick of my mother in law saying "well, someone hasn't given me a grandchild yet". I'm sick of not being able to enjoy a drink because my body is so out of whack and I never know for sure if my period is late from PCOS or if my dream child is within in me.

I have no problem or reservations against fostering or adoption, but I'd love the feeling of my child growing inside of me, to experience that primal, ancient gift. I try to tell myself it takes time, to be patient, diligent about my cycle. But with each negative ovulation strip, each negative pregnancy test, each crimson pad, my heart breaks a little more.