I totally didn’t call the advice line on Friday, but instead of viewing this as a failure, I’m choosing to think of it as buying myself time to do some research on antidepressants and breastfeeding. How optimistic is that? It’s almost like I don’t have PPD at all.
The fruit of my labors is almost as depressing as I am, though. Basically it comes down to this: I can either gain a bunch of weight, lose my sex drive, or stay depressed. There is no check box for “none of the above.” According to HealthyPlace.com:
Dissatisfaction with physical appearance is a common concern for new mothers, many of whom haven’t made it back into their pre-pregnancy clothes yet. If medication might slow down weight loss, or worse yet, cause weight gain, it may seem that the cure is worse than the disease.
Unfortunately, the very medications that don’t cause weight gain may lead to sexual side effects in as many as half of women recovering from postnatal depression.
I don’t have any sex drive to spare, so surely there must be some sort of medication that won’t make me a complete sexual zombie – I suppose something that would stir up a little extra interest would be too much to ask. Hooray, they said, Wellbutrin doesn’t alter sex drive. So hellooo, Wellbutrin, right?
I don’t want to stop breastfeeding. I don’t want my emotional issues to have that kind of impact on my child’s development. (One could argue that my depression is already impacting my child in some way, to which I will respond “LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”) On the other hand: more sexual issues = badness (and, let’s face it, given the state of my self-esteem a few extra pounds will be just as effective a libido suppressant as any seratonin enhancer). So, I don’t know. What’s a good compromise here? I could just wait it out, but all the accounts I’ve heard have suggested that I might be in for a long ride.
What I have to consider is maybe my current libido issues and self-esteem problems are largely due to my depression. Maybe if I felt better about myself I’d want to have sex. Maybe if I didn’t feel so worthless I wouldn’t look in the mirror and see a shapeless blob of mom-flesh.
I’m enjoying the baby so much now, despite the fact that most days I just want to lay on the couch and shovel chocolate into my mouth. How much more would I enjoy him if I felt good?