Having never been clinically depressed before, I will admit to being a bit skeptical as to whether I really was. I knew, cognitively, that I wasn’t feeling like myself but over the course of the nine months since Baby G was born, I really thought it would get better or that it was just me or that it really was my marriage.
I had so many dark thoughts that I’d play on endless loop all pertaining to running away, leaving my husband, moving out of our home. I’d play out how I was going to execute this plan in my head, how I didn’t care to live in our home any more, that I’d get a condo or, gasp, move back in with my parents for a spell. Yes, my thoughts included reconciling with my parents, that’s how out of character they were.
I’m two weeks into my relationship with Prozac, but by the end of the first week, I had already noticed a change. At this point, I’m feeling about 75% like myself. I am sleeping through the night, I am no longer constantly irritable, I haven’t exploded in anger or frustration in at least a week, I’m engaged in my life, I’m no longer as overwhelmed with routine tasks/activities, and I see glimpses of the life I know which gives me at least a glimmer of hope that all is going to be OK.
I’ve started talking to and seeing friends again and confiding my struggle because I don’t feel like I’m in crisis. It’s explained my prolonged absences, my lack of response to emails or voicemails and that alone lifts a weight of guilt and pressure from my shoulders.
I am looking forward to Halloween and Christmas, and am thinking of plans for Baby G’s first birthday, none of which was I even considering a mere two weeks ago. I’ve gotten both the boys’ costumes, started buying Christmas gifts, and even a couple of things for G’s birthday.
Our 10 year wedding anniversary is in two weeks and I actually feel like celebrating it because I’m now sure we’re going to make it to it. I’ve stopped the sarcastic banter about how we might not make it. I’ve booked a sitter and we’re at least going to go out for a nice, adult dinner.
All of this, without any real effort or concerted change on my part, meaning, I haven’t had to try to be nice, or try to be engaging, or try to not fly off the handle, or try not to be snappish, or try to put myself in the mood to shop or make plans, it’s all been happening organically.
I’ve noticed no physical side effects other than a bit of an increase in hunger in the late evening before bed. Last night, my stomach was growling at 10 PM (and, yes, I’ve been up until 11 PM like a real grown-up, and counting down the hours until I can go back to bed isn’t my first thought upon waking, and I’m not put-off when Baby G wakes in the 5:00 hour (although I have to work to push his morning wake time later BEFORE the upcoming time change)) so I had to make something to eat, something I never do. I’m trying to watch that as weight gain can be a side effect, although some purport that Prozac can work as an appetite suppressant.
I’ve hesitated writing and now publishing this post because, like a true infertile, I wouldn’t want to jinx anything. When I started writing this a week ago, the improvements were vague and subtle but now I would say they are marked.
I am relieved and beyond grateful to be feeling more like myself. I’m unsure how long my doctor will have me take it, but she ordered 3 refills so at least 4 months. I’ve read that one should really stay on it for a year and then, if life is stable, try weaning off. However, unlike my infertile, always with a Plan B-C-D, self, I’m just going to take this one day, one week at a time and be thankful, oh so thankful, that I’m coming into balance.