something wicked this way comes

So last week, my doctor told me he was willing to try a medication that would stop my milk production after delivery. For those not in the know, I have a fun condition where nursing makes my chemicals do Very Bad Things. Last time was... unpleasant. And I've been trying to mentally prepare myself for the physical and emotional %#*?! that I get to live through once I deliver this baby.

Side note - when I die and get to understand some of the mysteries in life, this is my first question I'll be asking: I understand the 9 months of pregnancy torture, the pain of labor (mom just told me the pain is equal to that of breaking 20-something bones simultaneously!), but why does the postpartum period of time have to be so dang wickedly terrible?? I have this beautiful, perfect baby and all I want to do is rip my skin apart and die. Is there a specific reason for this?? Just wondering.

So this medication I could use could save me some serious physical pain, and hopefully some of the chemical issues that come with it. Of course the side effects are fun-sounding, like heart attack, seizures and depression. Depression too? I've lived with that monkey on my back long enough that it doesn't scare me as much as the psychosis and physical pain that comes with nursing, but having a heart attack or seizure are new wacky things to think about.

I really like my doctor - he knows me and will research and check on me in between appointments and I really dig that, so when he warned me to not get my expectations up and that this medication can only work with they physical pain, not the emotional, I take that seriously. I'm trying to prepare myself again for that - whereas until this point, I've just been trying to focus on preparing for the physical pain since I didn't believe there was any reason to hope I'd be spared any of that, like last time.

It's just - everything hurt so much when WonderGirl was born that we didn't really get a chance to bond for a while. We were both just trying to survive. And the Dude was so perfect and sweet, it was exhausting to constantly try to push aside all the terrible things my body was saying and doing while all I wanted was to love him. This time, I'd really love to hold my baby and just love him, not try to love him through the haze of trying to keep myself from falling apart. Maybe this medication could help me do that? Or give me a heart attack, whatever.

I have to accept that this time next week, I'll be struggling to survive the postpartum apocalypse. Maybe it will be better? I can hope, and I do hope. But I did that before and the weight of realizing that despite all my best efforts, nothing was stopping that darkness crushed me. I have to be ready for that possibility.

I also have to be ready for sleep deprivation, which I'm getting loads of practice in now, as I was totally excited to find myself awake this morning at 3:30am instead of 2:30am like yesterday! Yay pregnancy insomnia!!