I’m at home today. That’s often the case, especially at this rather late stage of pregnancy. We’re in the last month, woo! A few more days, and I’ll be absolutely and fully cleared for home birth, which is a relief. It has been wonderful how supportive and understanding everyone has been — the midwives, my psychiatrist, the psychiatrist at gyno wing, etc. Everyone understands that this isn’t some sort of crunchy earth mother thing for me — home birth is absolutely about my mental health. It was the first time, years before I got my bipolar diagnosis as well. I just knew that three things are very big anxiety triggers for me, and to be avoided at all costs.
Now, as an exercise — what are hospitals full of? Yeaaaah. While I accept that if something goes wrong, I will have to go to the hospital, everyone is pretty understanding that overnighting is to be avoided at all costs. While I’m going back on my meds the very second the childling is born, the last thing I need after the stress of birthing is to be on a strange ward, alone but for the newborn… and upwards of 11 other ladies and their newborns. But everything looks pretty good — childling is tiny and sprawled like a starfish (one of the midwives extended her arms to full and flailed, which meant I got to introduce her to the fact yes, I refer to this child as a starfish), and childling is spinning like a top (gah), the head is pointed downwards and everyone is feeling pretty positive about things going my way. So yanno, fingers crossed that kiddo continues to cooperate for my mental health and ease of shtuffs.
Now, I did find out from the midwife-psychiatrist that, in her opinion, I didn’t need to come off the Seroquel. The Zoloft probably (she rated it more likely to have negative effects), but not so much the Seroquel. I sigh at this point — what’s done is done, and there’s only a month to get by without it now. Perhaps I pushed myself too hard to come off, or perhaps I felt the midwives themselves were not sure about their ability to monitor effectively based on what they could bring to the home birth. Mind, I believe a woman should do what she sees best for her health while pregnant, and after — there is no shame in taking your meds and not breastfeeding, for example. If I had been diagnosed before Lilbit’s birth, it would have been a non-choice, as it is this time. I’m going to do a lot better for my children being back on my meds instead of ‘doing it right’. After all, the most recent studies show that breastfeeding isn’t substantially better than bottle-feeding based on comparisons within families; there is a degree of inherent classism in ‘breast is best’ that ignores the fact that most mothers who are able to breastfeed have jobs that enable them to pump, or can afford to stay home, etc. Of *course* there is going to be a ‘better’ result in situations where a parent is able to spend more time with their child, and that’s going to come whether or not there’s a boob in the equation. But eh, the mommy wars… this is an area of existence that I made a conscious decision to avoid. I am all for treating women as if their agency is valid at all times, and I try to leave it at that.
Anyhoos, as I keep forgetting that I was working on this (I’m accompanied by a sicky-bic Lilbit today; she seems to be doing pretty well), I should probably wrap it up. I continue to be tired, sore, and counting down the days until I can get back on my meds. I’m still holding up fairly well mood-wise, especially considering the pain and discomfort factors (and it’s ridicul-hot here right now, especially at night). Mind, I expect things to go a bit to the depressive side of things once the kiddo is born… but we’ll see. I’d rather try to be optimistic that getting back on my meds will catch things before they get too far gone!