This has been the week of doctor’s appointments for me. I broke a tooth last week, so I had to get an emergency filling yesterday. Apparently there is some grain of truth to that saying about how a woman loses a tooth for every baby she has. I mean, for the love of all things holy, I broke the tooth on a bowl of cereal – how on earth is that even possible?

Then today, I had my six week follow-up appointment with my ob/gyn. She put me back on the birth control ring, although she warned me that it won’t be effective for two weeks, so we’d need to use a back-up method in the meantime. That statement made me laugh really hard.

Oh, and I now weigh 13 pounds less than I did when I first got pregnant. Don’t hate me for that – believe me, I’d trade a few pounds for a less miserable pregnancy any day. That was not what I’d call an ideal weight loss plan.

I didn’t talk to my doctor about my “baby blues” or whatever you want to call it. I suppose that maybe I should have, but I was afraid that she’d push the idea of meds, and I have a very ugly history with anti-depressants. I don’t think I’ve ever blogged about that, since almost all of this happened in college, so here’s the quick recap:

* Prozac – I don’t know how long I was on it, because I had blackouts when I was taking it. Or, not exactly blackouts, but I would get really sleepy, and I would have no recollection of whatever I said or did when I was in that state. I had a four-hour phone conversation with a friend in the middle of the night, and couldn’t remember it afterward. (He said that I didn’t make much sense, but I was really interesting.) I’d go to class and take notes, which were completely illegible, and I wouldn’t remember even attending the class. So, yeah. Not good.
* Zoloft – It sent me into rages where I’d throw and smash things. Again, not good.
* Paxil – I gained twenty pounds. In a month. No lie.

There are a couple of others which just had mildly unpleasant side effects, but those are the major standouts. So basically, I decided that yes, ok, my overall state of mind is not that great. I often have a little black cloud over my head (or at least, a pretty dark gray cloud). But I’m not having any thoughts about hurting myself or Cate, so I think I’m doing alright. I promise, if it doesn’t get better after I’m getting a decent amount of sleep, I will see someone about it. But for now, we’re just in survival mode, and hoping that it’ll pass soon.

Having thoughts about hurting Dave is a totally different issue, but c’mon. Tell me you wouldn’t feel the same way if your significant other slept nine solid hours and then told you how tired he was, when you were up with the baby for the 4th time that night? Yeah. He’s lucky I didn’t punch him.