The nurses at the scanning centre were horrified and enquired of my mother whether I was married and had children. That's how it all started. Needless to say, I had a very, very hard time conceiving, and by the sixth month of my pregnancy, I was bedridden because of a bleed.
I've had one surgery, produced one human being, and my PCOD is alive and kicking — quite literally! There are some months when the medication prescribed by my gynaecologist doesn't work. And once my cycle starts, it's an endless flow of the Ganges, with no sign of the cramping and sugar cravings coming to an end.
It's a disorienting recalibration and reboot of the system each time an unexpected period happens. And my gynaecologist is confused about whether to continue the medication or have me go under the knife.
The problems a woman's body puts her through are unending and relentless. We feel a complete lack of control over our minds and bodies. Top this with the usual drill of parenting and work!
After having lived with this condition for a solid 12 years and counting, my gynaecologist finally revealed that PCOD is an autoimmune disease in which the human body ceases to function the way it's supposed to.
There were moments when, as a newly married bride in my late twenties, I wondered whether I'd ever have a child. So, I count my wild, noisy blessings each day and am grateful to God for letting me have at least one mini.
For every woman who is trying to conceive and cannot, for whatever reason, it's a season of hell. I know this personally and first-hand because I experienced it for six dreadful years.
So, to all my PCOD girlies, we've got this! We can do all the clean eating and strength training in the world, but when our body wants to give up on us, it will. And in those moments, let's try not to be disheartened. Instead, let's eat kilograms of hot, gooey lava cakes with zero guilt!
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