A Hope for No Lexapro Birth Defects

Hope, MEDear Mom. It’s not every day your daughter writes you a letter. Especially when you would expect to see me crying because I scraped my knee or catching me before the contents of my runny nose gets all over my hand-knitted sweater. Or when I’m home visiting from university with a mound of laundry in tow.

But that’s all in the future, isn’t it? Because I have yet to be born. I may not have arrived yet, and some people say you’re not a person until you do. But I’ve got hands and a nose, and feet that kick you from the inside (sorry about that!). Everything looks good in here so far, but I’m scared just the same because of something that could happen. Something about me that may not turn out right. Something, which they might not be able to fix…

Lexapro birth defects. I hope you have heard about them. And I hope that you and Doctor Frank weighed all the risks. I hope, Mom, that you’re taking Lexapro because you have to. Because you are very sick, and Lexapro is the only antidepressant that allows you to get through your day.

I know that you thought this through long and hard, Mom, because you’re aware of what it could do to me: persistent pulmonary hypertension, or Lexapro pph. That can be very serious. In fact, Mom, it can be fatal. I may not have the chance to live at all. Or I may live for an hour or maybe two. And then my life would be over.

I would never have the chance to know you or for you to know me. We would never know the joy of a heart-to-heart talk or the fun we could have at a mother-daughter day at the spa. Or helping pick out my wedding dress.

It may not be as serious as that, Mom. Maybe the Lexapro side effects will amount to a cleft palate. And yes, something like that can be fixed. But maybe you won’t have the money to have it done right away. Or maybe, no matter how hard they try, it will leave a scar that will affect how I talk or how I breathe, or how I look…

I know, Mom, that you’re only taking Lexapro because you really do need it. That you are seriously sick, and that you wouldn’t be able to give me a decent start in life if you don’t look after yourself. I know that, Mom. I really do. You’re important, and you need to look after you.

I just hope that you really, really need this stuff, Mom. Because it’s so easy to pop a pill these days. They make medication for everything. But how did grandma and great-grandma (whom I have yet to meet) get by without these drugs, like Lexapro? How did they do it?

I know that studies only suggest a connection between Lexapro and newborn birth defects. The US Food and Drug Administration (FDA) classifies Lexapro as Pregnancy category “C,” which is not as serious as “D.”

And I know that the jury is still out because the Lexapro prescribing information says, at the top of page 17, “There are no adequate and well-controlled studies in pregnant women; therefore, escitalopram (Lexapro) should be used during pregnancy
only if the potential benefit justifies the potential risk to the fetus.”

That’s me, “fetus.” Sounds kind of impersonal. I can’t wait to get my new name. I think you are leaning toward Ella. I would love that name. I hope I live to see that day. And if I live, I hope I’m okay.

I hope you’re okay too, Mom. I really do. And I hope you’re not taking this Lexapro medication just because it’s easy. Because this is serious stuff, Mom. Have you taken the time to read the prescribing information? It’s 26 pages long, Mom. Pretty small print too. And it’s pretty scary.

The people who are concerned about all this say that we need more conclusive studies on pregnant women to know for sure. But we’ll never know for sure, Mom. Because how many women would put their unborn child at risk just to participate in a study? It’ll never happen. So we will never know how big that risk really is.

I don’t want to find out the hard way, and I know you don’t either.

Mom, if these Lexapro side effects take my life or leave me disfigured because you really, truly depended on Lexapro, then I understand. Stuff happens. You need it. You can’t go on without it. I understand, even if it does put my life and my well-being at risk.

But if you don’t really need it - if you could, with a little bit of strength and courage, and encouragement, get through things without it at least until I’m born and a little older, am I not worth it?

Your little Ella?

I love you Mom. I look forward to seeing you soon, even though I’m a part of you already. And I hope, in spite of the risk for Lexapro birth defects, that we can look forward to a happy beginning.

I’d say happy ending, but it may not be…

Sorry I kicked you just now, Mom. I didn’t mean it.

See you soon,

Love,
Ella