PCOS Millennials

I got married in 2015.
A decade ago, I walked down the aisle, full of dreams—one of them was to become a mom.

It’s now 2025.
Ten years of waiting.
Ten years of praying.
Ten years na umaasang may mabubuong buhay sa sinapupunan ko.

And yet… my womb remains silent.

Hindi ko pinangarap na maging “that woman”—the one people whisper about behind her back, asking “Bakit wala pa rin silang anak?”
Hindi ko ginusto na maging tanong ng bawat family reunion.
I wanted this to be easy. Natural. Normal.
But that’s not the story God gave me.

The First Hope: A Faint Line That Meant the World

I still remember it like it was yesterday.

Our first year of marriage, I was late—delayed for one whole month.
I started feeling symptoms: sore breasts, bloating, nausea, emotional swings.
Parang buntis ako.

So I took a PT.
And there it was: isang malinaw na linya, at isang malabo.
But that faint line? It lit up my world.

We were so excited. We held hands like kids, smiling from ear to ear, imagining names, nursery colors, little socks, little feet.

The next day, we rushed to a clinic in Mandaluyong.
Nagpa-ultrasound ako agad.

But the result?
Negative.
“You’re not pregnant,” the doctor said.

I showed her my PT photo.
Sabi ko, “Dok, may linya po… buntis po siguro ako.”
She just shrugged, “Pwedeng buntis ka, pwedeng hindi. Take Provera.”
And that was it. No follow-up instructions. No second look. No warmth.

Provera: A Name I Will Never Forget

Provera is a hormone medication—medroxyprogesterone acetate.
It helps regulate your period when your body isn’t producing enough natural progesterone.

After a few days of taking it, I bled.
Pero iba ang pakiramdam ko.
I was trembling. I had chills. I was crying without knowing why.
Parang may nawala. Parang may kinuha sa akin.

And deep down, something told me:
“You were pregnant. But not anymore.”

From that day forward, I never got a faint line again.

The Waiting Game: Fertility Treatments, Pain, and Hope

We kept trying.
We prayed even harder.
Naghanap ako ng fertility specialist. I was monitored closely—ultrasounds, hormone tests, ovulation tracking.

Pinainom ako ng Clomid—a medicine that helps you ovulate if your body isn’t doing it naturally.

Clomid (clomiphene citrate) works by stimulating hormones that tell your ovaries to release an egg.
In short, it gives you a chance to conceive.

Every cycle was a rollercoaster:
Hope during the two-week wait.
Anxiety at every cramp.
Tears at every negative test.

What is Clomid?

Clomid (clomiphene citrate) is a medication that helps trigger ovulation. It’s commonly prescribed for women who don’t ovulate regularly. It works by stimulating hormones needed to release an egg.

Then came one of the hardest parts—Hysteroscopy.

What is Hysteroscopy?

A Hysteroscopy is a procedure where a thin camera is inserted through the cervix into the uterus to check for abnormalities like fibroids, polyps, or scar tissue.
Masakit siya. Hindi ko i-glorify. Pero kinaya ko.

It was painful. Physically and emotionally.
But I did it—because the dream was bigger than the pain.

And when the results came?
Normal daw ako. Wala raw problema.

Then why?
Bakit hindi pa rin ako mabuntis?

The result? Normal. Walang nakita.
And yet, still… no pregnancy.

It Takes Two: Turning the Lens on My Husband

One day, we decided to check him too.
After all, fertility isn’t just a woman’s issue.

That’s when we found out:
He has varicocele.

Varicocele is an enlargement of the veins inside the scrotum. Para siyang varicose veins—but in a man’s most sensitive area.
This condition can overheat the testicles and affect sperm quality and production.

More Than One Diagnosis: Another Hurdle—Thalassemia

He saw a urologist and was told there’s hope.
But he needs surgery. And he has thalassemia, too—a blood disorder that affects how the body makes hemoglobin. Maselan din yung condition na yun, kaya kailangan talagang pag-isipan ang treatment.

What is Thalassemia?

Thalassemia is an inherited blood disorder where the body doesn’t produce enough hemoglobin, the part of red blood cells that carries oxygen. It can cause fatigue, weakness, and complications that affect fertility and overall health.

My heart sank.
And for a moment, I thought—
“Was this our fault?”
“Did we do something wrong?”
“Did God forget us?”

But despite everything, I knew one thing:
We didn’t make a mistake choosing each other.

When Love Becomes the Foundation

Even in my darkest days, I cling to the word of God.
Because even if I don’t understand the “why,” I trust “Him.”

Jeremiah 29:11 says,
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Romans 8:28 reminds me,
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.”

1 Corinthians 13:7 whispers softly in my heart,
“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.”

Should I be angry at my husband?
Should he be angry at me?

We chose each other.
We said “YES” not because life would be easy, but because love is worth it—even in the valley.
Even when the test is negative.
Even when the room stays empty.
Even when our arms ache for a child we’ve never met.

This is what I vowed:

“I will love, honor, and cherish you always.
I will love you in sickness as in health, in poverty as in wealth, in sorrow as in joy.
And I will be true to you by God’s grace, trusting in Him, so long as we both shall live.”

To the Woman Who’s Still Waiting

If you’re still praying.
If your womb is still waiting.
If you’ve been told “wala ka namang problema” but still nothing happens…
If you cry in silence when another friend posts their ultrasound or gender reveal…

I feel you.
I am you.

But we are more than our pain.
We are more than our empty arms.

We are daughters of the King.
And no womb, no diagnosis, no delay—can take that from us.

My Prayer Today

I still pray for our miracle.
And I pray for yours too.

That someday, somehow, we’ll hold in our arms the child we’ve long prayed for.
But until then, we will keep loving, keep hoping, and keep trusting.

Your story matters.
Your tears are seen.
Your prayers are heard.

You are not broken. You are beautifully becoming.
And maybe… just maybe…
this is the beginning of your miracle too.

Because our wombs may be empty, but our hearts are full.
Full of love.
Full of faith.
And full of courage to tell our story.

If my story feels like your story,
I want you to remember: Hindi ka nag-iisa.

Love,
Reese 💔🤍👣

Free eBook for Every Millennial Woman with PCOS: Your Ultimate Guide to Thriving with Hormonal Imbalance