Today marks my baby boy's 6 months into this life.
It was 6 months ago that I walked into the hospital in horrible, excited pain. Glorious pain that I knew would provide a result of a new being that, even at that last moment, wasn't sure I could handle or want. What a raw statement to type and read over yet it was true.
That baby deserved better than a crying mess of a mom that I would become. He deserved a happy Michelle Duggar-esque woman who would embrace motherhood instead of getting physiologically sick from it.
The 9 months that led up to that hospital trip was bumpy to say the least. I had gone through a nervous breakdown without hospitalization and survived...even managed to thrive through a somewhat miserable, physical pregnancy.
I remember them telling me at the OB/GYN that my nerves and anxiety were all normal and that it was my perception of them that made them SEEM abnormal. Well....that was all fine and dandy but it didn't take away the fact that I threw up every morning (morning sickness? no! nerves? yes!), trembled and shook and walked on eggshells waiting for the next panic attack to hit.
What made matters worse, was that the psych I trusted for prior treatment of my nerves and anxiety, played the Save the License game with me....let me explain this one:
ME: "Doc, I just found out I'm pregnant"
DOC: "You're on 60 mg of Cymbalta for anxiety, OCD, right?"
ME: "Yes and my anxiety is through the roof right now...."
DOC: "You need to get off that Cymbalta quick!"
ME: "Wha?...."
DOC: "Take 1/2 a dose for the next three days and then stop."
ME: "But that seems rather abrupt in weaning...."
DOC: "Yes, but that Cymbalta can really damage your baby"
ME: "Ummm, ok...."
DOC: "You have to get off of it....You don't know what the effects are to the baby"....
I hung up the phone feeling trepidation and intimidated by what lay ahead. What followed was 10 weeks of hell - Disassociation & DeRealization Disorder as a result of being taken off of a powerful med so quickly. I will discuss that pretty picture later.
I sit and type this with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks of the beach and seagulls cawing over the tide. I wish I could say I was at the seashore but I'm in the next room listening to a white noise machine that is placed on "ocean" setting next to the crib.
He is my Prince Charming - but the storybook fairytale of motherhood is a myth, at least at this stage. I wanted so much to enjoy being a mom to a little blob of sweet baby-powdered flesh, and at times, I relish and cherish it....but most of the time, it's a struggle to keep my repetitive thoughts of "AM I DOING THIS RIGHT?" at bay....
Happy 1/2 year, baby boy. I promise your momma will do everything in her power to get well for you and be healthy and happy. You are my inspiration to grow and thrive.
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