I totally didn’t call the advice line on Friday, but instead of viewing this as a failure, I’m choosing to think of it as buying myself time to do some research on antidepressants and breastfeeding. How optimistic is that? It’s almost like I don’t have PPD at all.

The fruit of my labors is almost as depressing as I am, though. Basically it comes down to this: I can either gain a bunch of weight, lose my sex drive, or stay depressed. There is no check box for “none of the above.” According to HealthyPlace.com:

Dissatisfaction with physical appearance is a common concern for new mothers, many of whom haven’t made it back into their pre-pregnancy clothes yet. If medication might slow down weight loss, or worse yet, cause weight gain, it may seem that the cure is worse than the disease.

Yes. And:

Unfortunately, the very medications that don’t cause weight gain may lead to sexual side effects in as many as half of women recovering from postnatal depression.

I don’t have any sex drive to spare, so surely there must be some sort of medication that won’t make me a complete sexual zombie - I suppose something that would stir up a little extra interest would be too much to ask. Hooray, they said, Wellbutrin doesn’t alter sex drive. So hellooo, Wellbutrin, right?

Wrong.

I don’t want to stop breastfeeding. I don’t want my emotional issues to have that kind of impact on my child’s development. (One could argue that my depression is already impacting my child in some way, to which I will respond “LA LA LA I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”) On the other hand: more sexual issues = badness (and, let’s face it, given the state of my self-esteem a few extra pounds will be just as effective a libido suppressant as any seratonin enhancer). So, I don’t know. What’s a good compromise here? I could just wait it out, but all the accounts I’ve heard have suggested that I might be in for a long ride.

What I have to consider is maybe my current libido issues and self-esteem problems are largely due to my depression. Maybe if I felt better about myself I’d want to have sex. Maybe if I didn’t feel so worthless I wouldn’t look in the mirror and see a shapeless blob of mom-flesh.

I’m enjoying the baby so much now, despite the fact that most days I just want to lay on the couch and shovel chocolate into my mouth. How much more would I enjoy him if I felt good?

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