I promised myself before Tiny Dancer was born that if I needed to get back on anti-anxiety meds while I was still breast feeding that I would just put my big girl pants on and do it. You see, there’s a certain level of guilt that goes along with basically every tough decision you make as a mom, but this one’s a doozy. Obviously the drug companies are unwilling to test their products on little babies, so they can’t say for sure what, if any, effect they will have on them. The only real test is real live women who have decided that the benefits outweigh the risks and have taken them anyway and haven’t reported any ill side effects (so far.)
This makes me nervous (and anxious bahahaha!!) But, the truth is that pretty much anything we expose our bodies to can have an ill effect that we don’t know about (yet.) And right now, the best thing for me is to go ahead with it. I am actually in a pretty decent place mood-wise, but the fatigue is starting to get to me. The other night at 4 am, the Hubs and I had this fight:
Me: “She won’t stop crying, what should I do?”
Him: no response, sleepy sounds
Me: (to TD) “Obviously daddy doesn’t give a shit.”
Him: “Did you really just say that to our daughter?”
Me: (to Hubs) “You’re stupid.”
Not my proudest moment. Anyway, in my defense, she had been awake for an hour and a half and I was braving that battle alone the whole time. But NOT in my defense, I’m starting to think that way in my head all day every day. Hubs was out of town and when he called he found me in a rage because we were out of milk. I proceeded to tell him that there was no fucking way in hell I could possibly go to the store by myself with 3 children. Which, I mean, come on, going to the store with 3 children does downright fucking suck dick. But impossible? Probably not. It was then that I realized this feeling of being overwhelmed has been happening a lot and being able to think through it is not happening often enough. Coffee and whiskey can only do so much.