Dear Secret Blogiary,
I have two beautiful girls and for a long time after I was diagnosed with Factor V (why I had to take Coumadin) I was filled will angst because I was told I should not have any more children. The Coumadin I was required to take would cause birth defects and just being pregnant could potentially cause problems.
Mister W and I wanted four children. It took a long time for me to accept just having two. A long time. I logged hours and hours of talks with Mister W., with friends and family about why it wasn’t “safe,” why two was enough, why this had happened to me. I cried. I yelled. I cursed.
It was unfair, I cried to Mister W. one day about two years after I started on Coumadin. Little Sis was about two and a half and at the perfect age I thought to add another. The age difference between Big Sis and Little Sis is roughly six years and that, I felt, was too big of a gap. I told him that it wasn't right people who had no business having children popped them out like rabbits, but we, in a secure relationship, a stable financial situation and we – smart and not hideous – couldn’t have anymore.
We had one scare in all those years. One tiny oops. A condom broke and I will say honestly, we were not upset that I might get pregnant, we were upset that I was on Coumadin and that could harm the baby. After that, Mister W. said he would have a vascetomy, but I did not want him too. I was still selfish about wanting children. I didn't want to do something that we might later regret so because of me, he is still potent.
Over the years, my attitude developed into one of acceptance. In the back of my head, a third would have been welcome, but it was kind-of nice not having to worry about schlepping a diaper bag around, paying huge amounts of money to a daycare, being able to be spontaneous and free enough to jump in the car and just go.
This past year when Little Sis turned 8 and my BFF Rose had her baby, I finally felt okay with only two. Nine years is too much of an age gap. It would be like raising three only children rather than a family of close siblings.
When I stopped taking Coumadin in January, Mister W. asked if I did so in order to procreate some more. And I was able to truthfully tell him, “no.” I accepted my two, I was happy with two. Two were all we needed.
I am a week late. A week is a long time in someone who has been regular like Big Ben since she was in 8th grade. I play it off, hoping that my system is screwed up because I was majorly sick last week. But I certainly am worried enough to buy a pregnancy test. And use it immediately upon arriving home.
No plusses…but still no period.
I am waiting.