Because I've been crying for no reason...

Because the voices in my head have been becoming unbearably cruel and critical...
(And because they're getting louder and louder...)

Because most days all I want to do is to crawl into a hole and disappear...

Because I was very tempted to take a few of Eric's antidepressants the other day, and all that stopped me, other than a phone call from a friend, was the thought that Sam would soon need to nurse...

Because I hear myself saying awful, horrible things lately, and hating myself for them even as I do...

Simply because I really just hate myself, and being myself...

          ...I'm going to see a doctor on Monday to see about being treated for depression.

I've been discussing this in the blog, and have gotten some really good support and encouragement in this direction. I have been miserable, on and off, since Sam was born. Some weeks are great, but others are truly rotten. I told Eric, "I need more than a nap; I want to take a coma." I just want to stop thinking for a while, to stop hearing these awful things my brain has been saying to me. I don't know if it's a case of untreated postpartum depression, or full-on clinical depression, or a thyroid hormone imbalance, or plain old low iron; I just need it to be better.

Sam's doctor, a really wonderful general practitioner, has agreed to see me, even though he's not really taking any new patients right now. He's very open to our ways of thinking, so I know he's not going to tell me to wean Sam or go on a vacation without the baby. These are areas of concern for me, as I've heard doctors encouraging patients to do just that sort of thing to combat depression. I trust this doctor to understand our priorities and help me come up with a solution that fits our needs.

But now I have to wait until Monday. That stinks. It took a lot out of me to finally admit that I needed medical help; I've been putting this off for months. Somehow, I feel as though taking that first step should have resulted in immediate reciprocal action; I need help now, darn it.

On the other hand, I suppose it's only fitting to wait a little more. After all, I guess I shouldn't have waited until I was at the very point of shattering before picking up the phone. I'm getting my just reward.

Happy thoughts, though:

Sam is crawling like a madman, and now he's begun to cruise around furniture. I'd be happier for him if I weren't terrified at the same time. That little head makes a loud THUNK when it hits the floor, as it too often does (followed by the silent scream of indignation and pain). Watching him go makes my palms sweat.

In order to claim some time for myself, at the encouragement of Eric and Amy, I taught myself to knit a few weeks ago, and I'm currently working on a pillow. It's slow going, as Sam likes to "help" when he's awake, but I'm gaining momentum. The yarn is a soft yellow, and it makes me smile to look at it. It feels like Spring.

Eric had blood work done, and his blood sugar levels were fabulous, as were most of his other numbers. The doctor actually encouraged him to eat more salt. His blood pressure was elevated even above its usual levels, though, so his medication for that had to be increased. No more antidepressants for him, though; the doctor felt that things had improved enough for him to discontinue them. (And if that isn't sadly amusing, I don't know what is.)

Um, my in-laws decided not to come this weekend. Of course, that's because Rita is getting sicker and sicker, so that's not a good thing in most respects. They hope to visit with us over Easter, though.

And I've been cooking up a storm lately. I make a mean curried tofu. Oh, yum.

I really want to thank you for reading, guys. I appreciate all the wonderfully kind things you say to me. Even if I don't write back right away (Sam keeps me off the computer quite a bit), know that I'm reading and feeling comforted by your words. They mean the world to me.