Life has been a bit crazy since Friday night. On Friday, I had a doctor appointment where I told her that I wasn’t seeing too much of a difference from the medication I am on for postpartum depression. She referred me to a psychiatrist because she doesn’t feel comfortable working with the medication at this point and would like me to see someone who specializes in them.
Hubby wasn’t able to go to the doctor appointment with me. When he’s there I am more relaxed and feel more comfortable—with him not there, I felt like I had to stuff everything inside and put on my face and make it through. Not that it’s a bad thing, just that I tend to be left feeling exhausted. Maybe it’s just because I feel like when he’s there, I can lean on his strength instead of being strong by myself which, at this time, is hard for me.
So at the end of all of that, I just had a bit of a melt-down—hence my post, Climbing. I felt so incredibly low and hopeless. I found myself on my knees sobbing and praying harder than I have ever prayed before, trying to find comfort. And I did find it. I felt like God was telling me that he is working a work in me and to let him mold me. In this time, I have found more comfort in hymns than anything else—a line will come into my mind when I need it the most and I find encouragement there. But ultimately, maybe someday I will understand and this experience will have made me better.
Saturday was fairly uneventful. I felt nervous to leave the house to go run errands, but I had to go to the pharmacy so there was no way around it. But I did feel better for going out of the house.
Saturday night, baby girl woke up in the night and when I rocked her back to sleep I noticed that she felt very warm. I took her temperature and it was 103. She had a temperature all day on Sunday and just wasn’t herself, but by Sunday night she was the worst. She woke up in the night and cried for almost an hour. Hubby and I felt so helpless and didn’t know what to do because the usual things weren’t working.
I ended up calling my mom and my sister and having a complete melt down telling them I didn’t know what to do. Apparently, the pediatrician doesn’t have a number to contact after hours, so I was sent to a triage nurse. By then, baby had stopped crying and fell asleep in hubby’s arms. I held her and slept with her all night.
In the morning, she started to get a rash with little blisters. At first I thought they looked like chicken pox, but I called the doctor on Tuesday and she guessed it is hand, foot and mouth disease. I’m not 100% sure that’s what it is, but maybe. She’s on the mend, but isn’t quite her energetic self yet.
Poor baby! You just feel so helpless when they are sick. This was her first sickness, other than a minor cold. I guess we survived! Fevers seem scary but I guess that’s just the body’s way of fighting off infection.
Other than my moment of losing it on the phone with my sister, I feel like this experience made me feel a little more confident as a mother. I was able to care for her and she is comforted by me and comes to me for comfort. I’m doing the best that I can.
I am also wondering if my general feeling of not feeing so incompetent is an indication that I am on the mend too. Fingers crossed. Knock on wood. Throw salt over my shoulder and all of that jazz. Maybe, just maybe! We will see.