Between my first and second pregnancy I had several gestational losses. They were very hard times and full of uncertainty, where there was no lack of medical tests to intern to determine what was happening. Eventually, I was diagnosed with a thrombophilia disorder and prescribed low molecular weight heparin to start pricking the moment I got pregnant again.
Living a pregnancy in these circumstances is not easy ; not only because of the inconvenience and discomfort associated with punctures, but also because of the fears and doubts that plague you at every moment, and that prevent you from fully enjoying this stage.
If you are going through the same thing, I will share with you how my experience was , in order to help you and accompany you on this tortuous path with a happy ending.
I went from an irrational fear of needles, to having to prick myself in the gut every day
I confess it: until a few years ago I was one of those people whose stomach knotted when I had to do a blood test. My animosity towards needles was related to my bad experiences during the extraction, because according to the professionals, I have “too fine veins”, so the moment of drawing my blood was almost always a torture.
So when the doctor explained the cause of my repeat miscarriages and suggested heparin treatment when I got pregnant again, for a moment I felt like I wasn’t going to be able to. How am I going to manage to prick myself in the gut every day for nine long months, without fainting in the attempt? – I remember asking myself in a loop.
The weeks between the medical diagnosis and a new pregnancy were quite emotionally upsetting. On the one hand, I felt happy and hopeful for having given a name and treatment to what happened to me, but on the other, fear and doubts took hold of me about whether I would be able to cope with a pregnancy under those circumstances.
The first puncture, a particularly emotional moment
I will never forget how I felt with my first heparin prick . It was my husband who took care of everything, while I, flustered, closed my eyes and clenched my fists. The puncture was quite annoying and I screamed like I never had.
But now I know that that howl was not exactly pain, but the result of all the tension that had accumulated for months. Then I started crying as if someone had turned on a tap inside me . I could not stop.
My husband hugged me. We both knew what that first puncture meant: the beginning of the path to that second baby that we had been looking for for so long.
Heparin and me: a love-hate relationship
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After that first puncture, another came the next day, and another a day later, and another … and so on for nine long months (in addition to the 40 days postpartum). In total, more than 300 injections .
Every afternoon I had to administer the heparin at the same time, so I decided to pack a toiletry bag with a couple of injections to always carry in my bag. In this way, if the time of the medication caught me away from home , there would be no problems.
Due to various circumstances, I had to inject heparin during a concert with friends, before going to the cinema with my husband, in some public baths, on the street, in the middle of Christmas dinner with the family, in the car … With the perspective that gives the passage of time, today I remember those scenes with a smile on my lips, due to the anecdotal of the situation.
I hated heparin with all my might . I hated having to rely on medication to keep my pregnancy going. He hated having a gut full of bruises and bruises from punctures. I hated the moment when my husband told me helplessly that he no longer knew where else he could poke me. And I hated the terrible sting I felt for a few minutes every time the needle went through me.
But while she hated heparin, she was deeply grateful to him . Grateful for having a medicine to help me achieve my dream of being a mother. Grateful to be able to show off my bruised belly, which made me feel strong, proud and powerful. Grateful for every injection she gave me, for every sting it caused me and for every tear shed.
Everything is forgotten when you see your baby’s face
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This phrase takes on a special meaning when you have to live a risky pregnancy. And it is that if already, pregnancy is a stage full of doubts, fears and uncertainty, when you have to face a complex and delicate pregnancy, everything acquires another dimension.
Suddenly, aspects such as knowing the sex of the baby, choosing the color of your room or even thinking about the name it will have, are not important. Now it is only important to feel your baby every day, communicate with him with that special language that only you understand, and check with each ultrasound that life goes on .
A backpack that you cannot get rid of, because every night you have to open it again to let another ghost escape in the form of an injection . And maybe that night the injection will bring you only pain, or maybe it will bring you uncertainty, or fear, or gratitude, or a feeling of no more power, or quite the opposite … Embrace each emotion, live it, express it and continue go ahead.
Nobody said it was easy, but I promise you that the road traveled will be well worth it when you see your baby’s face.
Photos | iStock
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