D-Day

Sorry to bore all of you with the mundane details of my doctor's appointments, but that is really all that is going on in my life, and it is all my hormone overloaded brain can think about.

I went back yet again on Friday to the doctor. It was Evan's worst nightmare come true. Evan came home from school on Thursday with a 102.5 degree fever, and so he had to stay home from school on Friday. I couldn't miss the appointment, so I had to take him with me. He has been to many appointments before to listen to the heartbeat, etc. but he has never been to one (for obvious reasons) where they have had to check out the down below parts. He sat in a chair by my head while all the excitement went on, but I could hear him whispering to himself "I can't BELIEVE this!" I have officially scarred my child for life.

The doctor agreed to let me try work again on Monday and Tuesday (we only have a two day week because of the holiday). If I can handle it, she will let me work the week after Thanksgiving too. At this point, if I go into labor, everythings a go. She did want to schedule an induction early the week after Thanksgiving, but we negotiated, and she let me pick the 6th of December. So if things don't happen on their own before that, the 6tth (St. Nicholas Day) is D-Day. The most important thing that happened though was that I finally got up enough courage to be honest with the doctor and talk to her about post-partum depression. I had what I knew was a bigger dose of the baby blues after Charlie than was normal, but I had felt like it was going away when I got pregnant with Sam. Things went downhill from there. It was really bad over the summer, and it really affected my marriage and my relationship with my kids. I felt a bit better once school started, but things have really been bad again over the last couple of weeks. I mean really bad. I was so embarrassed to admit it to anyone, even the doctor. I was scared too, because it makes me nervous to have anything on my medical records about mental instabililty in case anything ever went wrong with Dan again, but I knew I was at the breaking point. Have you ever read the book The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood? (If not you should, it is EXCELLENT). In it the main character Vivi describes a motherhood mental breakdown, which she calls "dropping her basket". At one point she runs away from her family for several days and dissapears. I was never able to understand this aspect of her character. Then one Saturday a couple of weeks ago, I was running an errand without the kids in the car, and I had the strongest urge to just keep driving, and leave everyone behind. Later in the day, I just lost it for no good reason and was so depressed I can't even describe it. Ironically, one of the first thoughts that popped into my mind was "You're about to drop your basket!" which scared me to death. So, after an honest and supportive discussion with Jeff, I spilled my guts to the doctor in a big tear fest. She thought I was definitely dealing with a moderate case of post-partum depression, and she reccomended treatment immediately, since it would only get worse after Sam is born, which was another of my worries. So, I have just started an anti-depressent. I feel so much better talking to people about it and admitting it here, that I wish I had done it sooner, but hind sight is 20/20 right? I would give anything to feel normal, and get "myself" back, and I am so hopeful that this will work.

Today was also a big day for Evan...he made his First Reconciliation- the first step to making his First Communion in March. He was so excited (and nervous)and I was so proud of him as he completed this sacrament. My little guy is not so little anymore!