Doing That VooDoo That They Do...Part I

Friday was an interesting day. Like a trip to the dentist's office, or a colonoscopy is interesting.

The day started off well enough. We've been on a crepe kick lately, so I whipped up a batch for breakfast and served 'em up with butter, a squirt of lemon, and dusting of granulated sugar. Health Food, I know, right? But I needed courage food. (What? Yes. Crepes. They're french. Oh shut up, that is SO not ironic. Okay, maybe just a little...)

I arrived for my appointment a full 10 minutes early. Now, it would probably be apropos to point out here that I NEVER arrive early. For anything. In fact, I was 20 minutes late for my own wedding. So being early was the first harbinger of doom.

When I arrived at the building, my first thought was "the receptionist wasn't kidding - it really is in a bank." Apparently the practice recently acquired the building to use as a satellite office, and it used to be an F&M Bank. It still has the drive-thru banking window, which gave me a chuckle as I amused myself with the thought of "drive-thru therapy". You see the funny, no?

My humor quickly dissolved, however, when I realized that the building was locked up and seemingly abandoned. So I waited. In the hot hot outdoors, in my jeans (which are also hot, but cover the whiteness of my white, white legs).

After I had waited as long as I could physically stand it (which admittedly is probably not long. Attention Span of a Ferret On Crack. I think that's the official diagnosis..) I headed back home, where I got the message that the woman I was supposed to see was still at the main office - about 30 minutes away. After sitting on hold for several eternities, broken up by "are you still there? Don't hang up!" every few minutes, the receptionist timidly asked if there was any way I could come to the main office for this visit. Otherwise, could we reschedule for another day?

Since T had taken the day off work to be with the boys while all of this was going on, I hopped in his hot, hot, airconditioning-less car and headed out into the hot hot heat.

Upon arriving at the office, covered in sweat from the air conditioning-less drive and looking for all the world like I had just escaped from the facility I was now entering, I was hustled from the waiting room to an office so filled with knick-knacks I was immediately dizzy. For the next hour, I was quizzed on every detail of my mental state and several details of my intimate life.

I also learned several things.

- The shrink did not approve of my choice of birth control (as evidenced by her raised eyebrow and blank look)
- The shrink casually chastised me for leaving nursing school (ignoring the part where I said things like "pregnant" and "husband laid off")
- The shrink knew less about my medication and the possible effects on my nursing infant than I did. Much much less.

Luckily for me, I was scheduled for a follow-up consult for today. With a real psychiatrist.

Dr. Joe was calm and collected. He was friendly and matter-of-fact, and did not talk to me like I have the intelligence level of a small child. He assessed my situation, asked pertinent questions, and generally made me feel like he actually knows what he is doing.

And thus begins the next phase of the journey. I will be starting a new medication to treat the ADD, which necessitates that I begin the process of weaning Toby in earnest. On the one hand, I think he and I are both ready. On the other hand? I am having a hard time giving up that cuddle time and the benefit of giving him breastmilk while he takes it so happily.

So the plan is thus: I will be giving him 50/50 breastmilk and formula for tonight's feeding. If all goes well, he will get the same in the morning. If he is weaned in the next 2 weeks, I will be starting the new meds and hopefully? Hopefully I will start to be a much, much better mommy. And then maybe I'll be able to stop getting misty-eyed every time the subject of weaning comes up.

tags: therapy