Anarchy Mommy

A date, a date!! Yesterday the doctor said January 10 I go off blood thinning pills. The 6 month coumadin treatment will end. Yes! So close.

End of January my awesome, beautiful, fantabulous hematologist (yes she rocks that hard) will test for underlying problems, something in my genes. Any condition other than pregnancy that would cause another blood clot.

“And then,” Doctor Wonderful said nonchalantly, “we will get you pregnant.”

Hmmm.

Technically, The Man holds that privilege. But in a broader sense she will be pivotal. She will prescribe the injectable Lovenox and monitor my blood in any future pregnancies to prevent another clot.

The Man and I didn’t talk about getting pregnant again for a long while after Bean. We both wanted time and, besides, every doctor stressed we had to wait until I was off coumadin.

The hospital stay had been tough. No matter the time of day I had vials of blood drawn every 4-6 hours for a week. My arms were scary bruised. It got to the point where I would burst into tears when they woke me at 4am to ask which arm to poke. It was exhausting.

I couldn’t help but wonder, would every pregnancy and delivery be like this?

We had planned a home birth with Bean. We had an amazing Midwife and a Doula picked out. We had alerted my live-in mother (“Hey what’s that coming out of your…?? Oh my.”), planned on laboring in water, and taken Bradley Birth classes that stressed little to no medical intervention.

Now we knew there could never be a home birth. I would always be “high risk”. The horror stories we had heard and read about fighting off excessive interventions while birthing in a hospital…those could very well be our story. I was scared of something, childbirth, that a week ago had seemed undeniably healthy and natural. Along with the death of a baby, we were mourning the end of how I, and we, wanted to birth. Choosing home birth had felt empowering.

Now what?

Within days of getting out of the hospital our hematologist was already talking pregnancy. “Hold on to that unused Lovenox,” she said while nodding, “we’ll need it when you get pregnant again.” It’s as if she could hear that tiny subconscious seed stretching it’s roots in my brain. When The Man asked how the clot would affect any later pregnancies, she answered before he’d finished asking, “Oh! You will have babies.” So sure. Concise. Confident. Much more than I.

Almost every weekly visit featured pregnancy mentions. Always positive, always absolute.

I have to wonder if she knew my biggest post-dvt fear. That someone would tell us we should not have another baby. That I was incapable of having a pregnancy that didn’t endanger my life or damage our child with the treatments I needed.

But she never said it. And every time I felt insecure or scared I thought of her voice, “You WILL have babies.”

So! Sometime in ‘10 The Man, Dr. Wonderful, and I will have a sit down. And we, yes WE, will get me pregnant. Team Knocked Up, The Pregnancy Tribe.

Help us out and please keep your fingers crossed? Our team could use the support.