I have to start this out by saying thank you to everyone who shared their experiences with me and offered support. It was really nice to know that I am not a medical freak of nature like my previous history would have me believe (ie The Great Appendix Explosion of 2005, The Epic Leg Honeymoon Incident of 2009). It’s eye opening that so many people have dealt with chronic UTIs and I’m glad so many of them no longer have occurrences. Believe me, I will be picking their brains to find out what they did in order to keep myself healthy.
So far the water drinking has not been going so well. I bought myself a super awesome one liter Camelbak water bottle on Prime Day (oh Amazon, how you’ve taken all of my money) and I need to drink two of them a day. I’m barely getting through half of one. When I was nursing, I sucked down water. I’ve been sucking down water on doctor’s recommendations for four months. I’m tired of water. My urologist doesn’t want me to put anything in it either, which makes me want to scream. Right now I’m trying visualization and am attempting to trick my mind into believing that it’s Dr. Pepper. It’s not working.
Now the peeing part I have down. Mainly because I’m terrified that the bacteria will enter my blood stream if I hold it (yes, apparently that’s a possibility and I’ve already had one blood infection thank you very much). Jaxen is very impressed with my abilities to use the potty, as he has yet to master the porcelain throne. I get a lot of “good jobs!” and “you’re such a big girls!”. Let’s be honest: I rather enjoy having my own cheerleader.
Mentally, I’m doing so much better. Oh did I mention that on top of all the physical shiz and the DMER, I also have post partum depression. That’s right, my body AND my mind hate me. Truthfully, I had PPD with Jaxen too, I just waited too long to seek help. PPD can manifest anytime in the first two years after you’ve had a baby. TWO YEARS. Hormones suck. I had it within the first few months with Jax, but didn’t seek out medical attention until he was almost a year and a half old. This time I was much more honest with myself and sought out my doctor right away. She upped my dosage on my happy pills and after the initial two week adjustment period (those first five days were not my friends), I feel like Sara Angela Lloyd again. I will also start seeing my therapist again. Yes I said again. Last year, I was diagnosed with genetic depression. Go me.
As one of my employees often says, there’s no shame in my game. I’m a mommy so I have to do whatever it takes to be healthy. Most importantly, though, it’s what I want for myself. I enjoy dancing with my son and walking my dogs, going for runs, and trying to keep up with my Red Bull fueled husband. I love the challenges that my job throws my way and being able to jump in feet first when I need to. Taking that little pill everyday is my reminder that it’s okay to take care of myself and meet my needs. If I don’t, I can’t do all the things I love to do with and for others.
Obviously I’m not ashamed of any of this. I’m happy to talk to anyone who feels they might be going through similar and will advocate and support those who need it. I’m lucky enough that I have Scott, who supports and defends whatever I need to do to feel human. He may not always understand my crazy, but he lives by the cardinal rule of marriage: happy wife, happy life.