Seven weeks post

I keep writing about these things because, in the hopes that we do get to go down this road again, I want to remember.  I'm already starting to foget the challenges I've faced and probably won't be able to make an informed decision x number of years in the future.

So revelations from the 7 week post-partum appointment:
*Even though I'm a full week late in getting my check, I'm still cleared for exactly diddly.  Gah, running.  Apparently I'll see you in the spring.
*I may or may not know how to spell "diddly." 
*I'm high risk for infection.
*Doctor wants to see me again in no more than a month.
*Doc was amazed at the changes in this baby she delivered. He's absolutely huge and round in all the places he was teeny and tiny seven weeks ago. I don't think I've mentioned this, but it's worth noting that he has gained 4 pounds since leaving the hospital. I'm convinced God knew that I couldn't birth a giant baby, so he's done the rest of his growing on the outside. 
*I'm advised to take it easy for the next 2 weeks minimum, and 4 weeks to be safe to help myself heal.  Sure... cause that's possible in this scenario. 


It explains why I'm still bleeding (I'm still healing) and why I'm still sore enough to take meds from time to time.  So at least those questions were answered, because I'd been worrying. 

Future Melissa: You might be skinnier and slightly more mobile than when you had a C-Section, but please remember that this hasn't been a walk in the park!  It's 7 weeks later and you're still not healed.  Seriously, just consider the c/s next time.  Your "natural" birth is just as tough to recover from.

I also have to admit to something I never, ever thought I would do.  I asked for an antidepressant.

It's an incredibly touchy subject, and one I'm still coming to terms with myself.  Because, the truth is, after the year we've had, I have absolutely no right to complain.  I've gotten literally everything I've ever wanted my entire life this year.

And it's drowning me a little. 

From my miscarriage last September, to finding out we were pregnant, to selling the house, to struggling to find a house, to moving into my mom's, having a baby, having a two year old, fixing up a new house and moving.  It sounds so simple on paper.  The experience has been overwhelming.

My cup runneth over.  Like, for reals. 

I can't decide if it's just normal life events or if there is a hormonal component to all of this.  Every challenge I face could be chalked up to hormones, or could be explained away by something perfectly harmless.

I'm exhausted all the time.  Um, duh: I haven't slept through the night since December. 

I have no motivation to get anything done except care for myself and the kids.  Again, logically: There is sooooo much to do, and having tiny children aren't exactly conducive to "getting things done."  Not to mention the person hanging off my body every twenty minutes - enough to gain 4 pounds in seven weeks. 

I get frustrated with my daughter's behavior, and I've never been frustrated with her in her entire life.  Well... she's also two and hasn't behaved like this before in her life.

The source of all this stress is all good things, and it seems totally backwards that I can cope with a Columbine but have decided to get antidepressants now.  But the truth is, if I can get even 10% of my energy, patience and vitality back, I will take it.  It's silly to feel like this if there is an alternative, particularly when we have so much to celebrate and be grateful for.

So that's that for now.  It's funny to be in this place, because even as I struggle, I recognize that these are some of the best days of my life.  Someday - sooner than I'd care to process - I'm going to absolutely long for these precious, cherished moments when my children were small.

I'd much rather just enjoy them now.