Postpartum Thyroiditis

I think I may have heard it all today. Postpartum Thyroiditis, sounds fake, right? Well it's not, and I think I have it. I went from being Hypothyroid while pregnant, to Hyperthyroid after giving birth, back to Hypothyroid again. Apparently an imbalance such as this one can do a number on your emotional stability, hello depression. It just feels like there's always something going on. Yeah, I'm no better than anyone else, we all have problems, blah...blah...blah. But seriously? Cut me some slack.

Geez!

My husband has my heart

So the two oldest boys are in Colorado for vacation. They've been there awhile and are returning on Monday. I miss them so much. I know I say this today and the minute I hear them bickering I'll wish them away again. That's just me being brutally honest. My husband and I have even dropped the baby off with my mother for two hours and had a dinner that didn't require swallowing food whole to console the little whiner.

A few nights ago, I had the best night ever with Xavier. I made him laugh so hard that he even projectile vomited four times. Count 'em, FOUR times. That's pure pleasure. He's got the greatest laugh. Sometimes what works today to make him laugh, may not work tomorrow so I do it until, well, until he pukes... quite literally. I got yelled at by my husband at one point but I just brushed it off. Whatever.

So I walk in the door on Tuesday after work (same night as the puking occurrences) and Xavier is in the bouncy seat and Eric is enjoying an apple, probably watching Law and Order on tv (is there ever a time when this show isn't on?). I'm going about my routine, you know getting ready for the next workday, dishes, etc... when Eric notices something next to Xavier's leg. He grabbed his leg and held it up. Yeah, it was poop. An explosive poop, are there any other kinds? The funny thing is, the damage was already done. I knew I would have to prewash the seat, take the fabric off and throw it in the wash, etc. No big deal. I got all his bath stuff ready and proceeded to fill the tub. I look out to the living room and there's Eric, still holding his leg in the air because by doing this, no more shit was going to make its way onto said seat, which already needs to be cleaned and then cleaned again. I wish I could get away with a man's point of view, just once! Too funny.

This makes me remember the time when Eric called me at work to ask me if there were clean towels in the linen closet. Now, I didn't yell at him when he called and I didn't ask him if he LOOKED in the linen closet to see the nice neat pile of clean towels. I simply told him "yep" and he went about giving Xavier a bath for a previous poop explosion incident. I love him so much!

One day, when I was still pregnant I asked Eric a question. I remember what it was but to put it into blog form would take all day. After wiping the tears from his eyes he proceeded to tell me that nobody entertains him like I do. I could say the same to him.

I have become a blog JUNKIE!

My husband tells me to live my own life. I think that by reading other people's thoughts and feelings, etc. on their blogs either A) It makes me feel like my life could be much worse or B) My life could be much better. I read blogs ranging from surviving the death of a loved one (via suicide and otherwise) to single motherhood to a father writing about his desperate desire to save his 7-year old daughter from schizophrenia, to postpartum depression survivors. Not too many blogs I read are on the cheerful side. I've always been drawn to the "darker side" if you will.

I think because I'm so committed to my family, having friends and keeping them is hard to come by. If I choose to become a part of a person's life via their blog (or my own), it's much less complex and quite invigorating to say the least.

Anyhow, this entry has nothing to do with anything - - or everything to do with something, depending on how you look at it.

I'm here to step forward, raise my head and admit that yes, I am a blog junkie and I'm darn proud of it.

Cloudless Thinking

An old friend of mine via Facebook suggested I see my doctor for Postpartum Depression (PPD). She was right. His immediate suggestion was medication and therapy, of course! I ignored this initially. I didn't want to take medication, who knew how long I'd have to be on it? What would the side-effects bring? Blah, Blah, Blah! Second, therapy. What would therapy do for PPD? My mind is set that PPD goes away, eventually, and how the hell is talking to someone going to help with it? Damn, all I want to do is be home with my new baby and care for him in every way imaginable while still bringing in a decent paycheck, not realistic. My thought is if I cannot bring this to light, how will I get better and how is a therapist going to assist with it? Anyway, whatever. I'm now taking Zoloft. I am seeing a therapist on Friday. I'm seeing this therapist several weeks after the recommendation because the therapist my doctor wants me to see isn't on my "approved network" of doctors. Hell.

In the meantime, I take this pill every night at 9:30pm and then it takes over. I get delusional. I become zombie-like exhausted. I cannot remember if I said goodnight to my two oldest boys last night. I drive to work and then home and wonder how I got there. I'm paranoid. How I long for a few hours of cloudless thinking...