Zzzzzz

Things here have been so alarmingly normal that I haven't felt like boring y'all with the mundane details of it.

I'm actually (gasp!) enjoying these early weeks and savoring every day. It helps that a certain chunky little person has started doing two very important-to-me things: 1) she started sleeping through the night last week, doing anywhere from 6 to 9 hours at a stretch and 2) she started giving me real honest-to-goodness smiles as evidenced by the attached photo.

Those two things have gone a long way toward helping me feel really good, along with the A-Ds, of course--and the fact that I've lost 27 lbs. of pregnancy weight with 13 more to go to get to pre-baby weight. Early on, I called it the "NICU diet;" nowadays I just call it "slow going." No hurry...I try to follow the adage of 9 months to put it on, 9 months to take it off (and then don't beat myself up too much if I still don't have it all off by 9 months). At least that was how I approached it after J was born.

Tomorrow D will be 8 weeks old and I find myself wondering where the time is going.

And yes, I'm even boring myself with this post.

A gratuitous thank you

Thanks for all of your warm birthday wishes--they helped make my mom's day yesterday!

And while I gave her a break on the sleeping Sunday night, I made her pay for it last night :-) Luckily, I can get away with it because I'm so cute.

They say it's your birthday

38 years old today...gah.

To celebrate, the world's gassiest baby gave me a break. She slept from 10:30 last night until 4 a.m. when she ate quickly and promptly went back to sleep at 5. She then slept in until 9 a.m. so I got another nice chunk of sleep. Bliss (though, as my SIL said, it's kind of sad when you're excited about 4 hours of sleep).

The celebration continued when she - OMG - slept in the car (she hates the car with a white hot burning passion--virtually assuring that I am, on most days, a prisoner in my own home) on the way to the bank and to the giant reviled retail store for diapers and some various other sundries.

Now she sleeps again while I pack away J's too-small clothes, do the laundry, and catch up on my blogs. So far, one person has wished me a happy birthday. It seems as though the rest of them may have forgotten me (mind you, I didn't even remember it was my birthday until about 10:30 this morning). Man, this birthday rocks...

...maybe not so much.

Happier days

Things are improving here in the Dee house, perhaps thanks to time, which keeps marching on, or perhaps due to meds, which I keep ingesting. 4 days on the juice and already I'm feeling much better (perhaps owing to the fact that since I've been on this particular med before, it starts working quicker than the 'up to 28 days' advised--or perhaps because of the placebo effect that I think it's working; whatever, I'll take it).

The reality is that I have not cried at all yesterday or today. Surely that is progress, yes? How could I anyway when there is such delicious happiness as this going on in my house?

. (guess who showed up?)

Today was my postpartum OB appointment and the irony of it all is that yesterday, 5 weeks to the day that Daniela was born, I got my period. Haha...oh, life, you're so funny.

All bleeding aside, the visit was pretty low-key; low-key, that is, if you consider breaking down in front of the nurse taking your vitals low-key.

The appointment started with a bang after I signed in at the desk and was called up shortly thereafter. Hmm...apparently, they did not have any appointment scheduled for me today. This of course caused me to have a mini-breakdown on the spot, tearfully telling the receptionist that I simply had to be seen today. I could have kissed her when she told me she could get me in with one of the other OBs (i.e., not my regular guy). I didn't care as I'd seen this other OB before and she was somewhat familiar with my care/story/etc.

I'm sure the nurse gave her the heads up after she took my vitals because the OB walked in and was immediately concerned, asking me how I was feeling, was I having any thoughts of hurting myself (no), and so on. She had heard a little bit about what had happened to Daniela and inquired as to how she was doing. She took some time with me, asking the right questions and just listening.

It was hard letting it out there but I did it. She gave me a two-week script for pr0zac, saying that she wants me to call her in two weeks time to let her know if I'm feeling any better and, if so, she'll call in the refill then. I couldn't get that script filled fast enough. Let's hope it starts working fairly soon, shall we?

Oh, and to top off the shit sandwich that was my day, when I turned on my car to leave the OB's office, a message popped up on my dash message center--tire pressure very low. So, um, yeah, turns out there's a screw in one of my tires--one of the four brand-new tires I bought at the dealer less than two weeks ago. Looks like I'll have to drive my happy ass back over there to get it plugged.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to head out to take the littlest monkey to the pediatrician. She may have reflux or some other such eating/swallowing/wtf? malady that makes her a screaming inconsolable banshee several times a day.

Yep, never let it be said that I can't roll with the punches, eh?

The.rapist

Why, yes, really, I'm fine, thanks.

Okay, so maybe not so much. Yesterday saw me undertake my initial "getting to know you" appointment with a therapist (henceforth known as "the rapist"--it's how I've long referred to therapists since A) I'm a geek, and; B) the moniker is sometimes accurate given how you feel after leaving a particularly productive appointment).

Nice rapist lady did agree that I've been through/am going through a lot recently. Can I tell you how good it felt to get it all out, every last bit of it, to cry for all I was worth, to just unload? (Yeah, but I still had more in me when I went to my monthly hair appointment--gotta keep the grays at bay--and my stylist asked about Daniela. She hadn't seen me since about 4 days before my induction so she didn't know what all had gone down. )

And you know you've got "the crazy"* down pat when nice rapist lady tells you that the OB should be able to "give you something" to help you get through this and come out intact on the other side. Why hello PPD and whatever else (PTSD?), nice to meet you.

So, my appointment with the OB this Friday will find me being honest...and taking the hand that has been offered to me, hopefully along with a script for mother's little helper.

May the meds kick in quickly (though, like all good things, it takes time. And yes, I've been on A-Ds before...I had a run-in with clinical depression about 6 years back; P-zac worked wonders for me).

*I kid, I kid. I don't think I'm 'crazy' (not technically, that is).