Melody is four months now. I can't believe how quickly she is growing. She is small for her age -- in the 10th percentile. She's not the baby imagined myself having. All the babes in my family are bald, fair, and big. She has dark hair and golden skin like her daddy. And she's little. She weighs around 11 pounds. All the babies we hang out with are big and chunky. She is dainty and lean. For awhile I was concerned about her size. I began waking her up in the middle of the night to feed her. This resulted in a tired mommy and a cranky baby. I realized that she is doing great despite her small size. She is alert, content, smiley, and happy 85% of the time. She eats often during the day. I know she's getting hindmilk because she often eats for 45 minutes to a hour on one side. Chad's side of the family has smaller people so I guess she's taking after her daddy in more ways than one.
Even though she's not the baby I imagined, she is perfect. She and I get more attached everyday. She recognizes my voice and often calms down at the sound of my words. She smiles brightly when she finds me in a room full of people. I love dressing her, changing her, bathing her, feeding her, talking to her and dancing around the house with her in my arms.
Despite all these wonderful moments, I'm still struggling with depression. I still cry on a regular basis for no reason. The tears just fall and fall and fall. I feel down even when the weather is sunny and clear. I wander around the house unsure of what to do with myself. I try to muster motivation to plant flowers, bake pumpkin bread, and finish decorating the baby's room. These things remain undone. I watch Dawson's Creek reruns instead, even though every single charater on the show thoroughly annoys me. Spending time with people helps a little. It serves as a distraction from the way I feel. A recent bout with mastitis brought the realization that with physical pain came relief from the mental and emotional pain. I almost welcomed the fever, chills, and achiness because it gave me a break from feeling sad.
I finally gave up trying the natural supplements, teas, and progesterone cream. It's been four months. They weren't working. I went to the doctor. He was wonderful. He said, "It is very common for women who stop working full time to stay home to be depressed. It's a huge change. Also, are you dealing with any trauma related to your birth experience?" Ding! Ding! Ding! I guess I'm not crazy after all. Each time someone tells me that what I'm dealing with is normal I feel so much better.
I started taking the anti-depressant Wellbutrin two days ago. The generic perscription was $92 for a one months supply. I was shocked at the price. I've never taken a drug on a regular basis -- not even the pill. I'm trying to be postive about this decision. My mom told me to try to think of Wellbutrin as "my friend." That made me laugh, but maybe she's right. If I cringe everytime I think of it, it probably won't work as well. Deep down I know I've made the right decision. I do not want to remember Melody's first year as a cloudy depressing time.