Hoboken, NJDear Mom. You don't know me yet. I don't even know me yet. For I am a mere speck in your womb, during this first, all-important trimester in the pregnancy that will ultimately give me life. Indeed, I am alive now. But I have a lot of developing to do. And the chemicals that you ingest, such as Depakote, may cause a threat to me.
I know your use of valproate is not taken lightly. Why would anyone, in their right mind, ingest anything beyond what our Creator meant for us to consume for nourishment and natural healing? Chemicals are foreign to the body. I know they have their benefits. Drugs make the world go 'round, don't they? And yet in spite of all the research and all the science—they can't make a drug like valproate completely safe and free from Depakote side effects.
As long as the benefits outweigh the risks, then it's okay.
But is it okay for me?
I don't know why your doctor gives this to you. Epilepsy, maybe? Or maybe it's from being bipolar. Life with those diseases can be challenging, bordering on impossible. You may not want to stop taking Depakote. You may not be able to. Maybe the three months or even the full nine months of hardship you would go through, and the new family I have yet to meet would go through, would be just too hard…
But what about me?
What happens if I am born with spina bifida? Or some other deformity, like a cleft palate? Some things can be corrected with surgery. But can you afford that? And will the other kids laugh at me?
What if my hands are deformed because of Depakote side effects? How do I function at school if I can't hold a pencil? How do I handle being different from the other kids? And can that be fixed?
What about my heart? Will it be deformed too? Can it be fixed? Or will my life, as challenged as it may become, be cut short?
I'm scared, Mom. Scared that I'll come out different. You'll smile and coo, and say I'm unique, that I'm special. And maybe I won't understand why the other kids are laughing at me. Maybe it won't be a big deal to me that I can't go out to play like the other kids because I'm too weak. Maybe it won't matter that I can't smile like you can. At least, maybe it won't matter to you. Because I'm special after all.
But I don't want to be special, Mom. I just want to be normal. I don't want to be hurt by Depakote. Why do people make drugs that can hurt us? And Mom, can you protect me from them? From the drugs? Because you're all I've got. We've just one chance to get this right. One chance in a lifetime, for my life. My whole life, Mom. Don't let Depakote birth defects destroy me. Please…
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