This time last year I was hopeful. Hopeful that we would soon have a baby. Hopeful that the 18 months of fertility acupuncture and seven months of actively trying to fall pregnant would pay off – and the prospect of more invasive treatment wouldn’t need to materialise.
I was lucky. I did conceive without intervention – just two weeks into 2017, in fact. And it was the most wonderful revelation. Who knew peeing on a stick could be so thrilling!
Getting to that positive pregnancy test had been emotional at times, as I imagine it is for many couples, complications or otherwise. We hadn’t told anyone of our efforts, so trying and failing to get pregnant as the months rolled by was a silent struggle. I think I’d even managed to convince people – my parents included – that I didn’t want children, favouring the stoic over the sob story. Cue excitable (shocked?) wails upon sharing our happy news.
The hiccup
Polycystic Ovary Syndrome isn’t a blockade against conception – and there are certainly women out there who are facing or have overcome bigger obstacles – but it is a bump in the road. It means ovulation doesn’t always take place. No egg, no baby etc.
I was diagnosed with PCOS at the end of 2015. Acne and irregular periods suggested it, a scan confirmed it. Warty ovaries are us.
‘If you want children, start trying now,’ was the doctor’s sum of the issue, ‘You may struggle.’ Blunt and, dare I say, a little brutal?
A baby was certainly on the cards, but not yet – I had a wedding to plan first. But it did get Mr R and me thinking about our future family in good time.
A little digging around in cyber space uncovered all sorts of suggestions – some more kosher than others. Pushing aside claims that an alkaline diet can rid you of PCOS (the medics say it can’t be cured) and other outlandish ‘It worked for me!’ diet stories, I did find some pearls of wisdom.
Some, sadly, went swiftly out the window.
I didn’t need to lose weight, the contraceptive pill hadn’t agreed with me in the past and the idea of mulling along until we were ready to try for a baby, then taking medication to help things along didn’t strike me as the best option.
The three top treatments suggested by NHS Choices weren’t for me. I was stumped. What could I do now to help myself later?
Acupuncture – the case beyond pins and needles
Then I read about the benefits of acupuncture as a treatment for PCOS. There’s an impressive body of research to suggest it can help regulate the menstrual cycles of women with the syndrome and, wading through the jargon (I don’t claim to be medically minded), I figured I’d give it a go.
BONUS: my GP surgery offered free acupuncture to patients deemed likely to benefit from it. A thorough consultation and the green light for treatment resulted in some 18 months of Friday mornings spent laid out like a pin cushion.
I loved it. Once the wooziness of the initial sessions faded, I sank into relaxation the moment the last needle was positioned.
How can 10 needles dotted around one’s body do anything of use? I won’t even attempt to explain it for fear of sounding facetious – I’m royally flummoxed. But a few months into treatment and my periods were creeping from being almost three months apart to two months, 50 days, 40, 35… For the first time I had a semi-regular cycle, dancing between 32 and 36 days long. Still longer than most, but a window more welcoming to pregnancy.
Now I won’t sit here and tell you acupuncture got me pregnant (this isn’t The Daily Mail). It still took a good number of months and there are other more, ahem, vital elements required. But I will say, as far as I’m concerned, it was a big help. And if you’re reading this with the same mindset I had at the dawn of 2017, I can only recommend it as an option worth exploring.
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