Tears On My Keyboard

There is no other way to start this post except to jump right in and get to it.  The other day, during a routine baby appointment, LUCAS’ PEDIATRICIAN, ”DR. S.” ASKED IF I WAS PREGNANT!!!!!!

I’m not.

Shit.

Nobody has ever asked me that before.  Even when I was pregnant, nobody asked if I was pregnant.  It was obvious, but nobody asked.  Even when I was four months pregnant and my belly and butt had registered for new zip codes, nobody asked if I was pregnant.

WHY NOW!?!

Here is the skinny, scoop.  Truth be told, I have gained weight recently.  Along with my beautiful baby boy, I had another arrival in the household.

Anxiety, and lots of it.  To combat the anxiety I went on the anti-anxiety medication Zoloft, which caused me to gain weight in a short period of time.  Fifteen pounds in six weeks.  YIKES!

The anxiety was bad.  Not just “oh, gosh I am a little nervous” anxiety.  NO, it was crushing, frightening, debilitating, terrifying, choking, deep seeded fear and anxiety.  I was one night terror away from losing it, getting a bunch of cats, never leaving the house, and ordering Christmas sweaters on QVC.

After Lucas was born I began to struggle with fear and anxiety.  It is no secret that I see a therapist, referred to on my site as Therapist Richard.  He is awesome (and can work a sweater…sassy).  Richard explained to me that often emotions are heightened during and after pregnancy and that any unresolved emotional episodes or things from the past often bubble to the surface and trigger the anxiety.

He was not joking.

All my hidden dark secrets came pouring out.   Things I NEVER told anyone.  I was the peace keeper with the big smile and funny personality, which I was and still am, except until very recently I was hiding in agony.  As a child I was repeatedly molested by a male neighbor.  Also, my Mother’s second husband was sexually aggressive towards me. He never crossed the line to molest, but never let me forget he was watching me ALL the time and could cross the line if he wanted to.  For YEARS I twisted into a pretzel to disappear and get away from him.  My Father, who was an alcoholic and drug addict, adopted me as an infant despite never truly wanting me.  He told me he just wanted to make my Mother happy.  They divorced when I was three.   My Father told me this point blank through out my life,  both in words and in actions.  All of this I NEVER NEVER NEVER said a word to anyone.  I stuffed it, buried it, HID it, put on a smile and stayed out of everyone’s way.  Nobody knew, about the molest, the abuse, the things my Father told me, nothing.

Needless to say, molest, parental abandonment, constant threats and inappropriate behavior from adults toward me left a BIG FAT MARK.

Richard was right, the pregnancy brought all that up at 35 years old.  I cracked like an egg and all my secrets and more came pouring out.  I told my Mother everything.  I told everyone everything.  I cried endlessly, held my pregnant stomach and emotionally freed myself and my baby.  I COULD NOT continue the hidden secrets eating my soul with a baby inside me.  I did not want Lucas to be born to secrets and lies.  Together we freed me from my past.  The day Lucas was born we both got a fresh start in life.

How does this all relate to Lucas’ pediatrician thinking I am pregnant 19 months after Lucas was born.  When you hide such devastating things for so long (35 years) and suddenly release them to the world, it can be emotionally overwhelming.  Couple that with a new baby and WHAM I was in full blown anxiety attack mode. Something I had never experienced before.  After trying to work through the anxiety that was worsening as the months went by, Therapist Richard and I decided to start me on Zoloft, an anti-anxiety medication.

I was very hesitant and reluctant at first.  I fought going on the medication for a good long time, but the anxiety was not getting better.  I was crying all the time, thought the end was always around the corner,  and I was googling about cat ownership late into the evening.

I started Zoloft just six weeks ago.  My personal doctor was very supportive about the medication.  As she rattled off the boring side affects…thoughts of suicide, nausea, insomnia I blanked out.  Once I heard weight gain though, I shot to attention.  Apparently weight gain is a fairly common side affect.  Assuring myself  that I was exempt from side affects and would have no problems,  I filled my prescription. 

Cut to six weeks later.  Night terrors gone, fifteen pounds of weight gain in my belly arrived.   I feel terrific about my brain, but I feel horrible about my stomach. 

I have gained 15(!!!) mother fucking pounds of hard fought and lost baby weight in six weeks.  I might be no longer anxious, but I am now depressed about the weight gain.  This must be the tummy Lucas’ pediatrician, Dr. S. saw on our appointment. 

THE ZOLOFT BELLY.

After Dr. S. asked if I was pregnant it was so uncomfortable.  Before Zoloft Belly we had perfection, now we have a “thing” between us.

BEFORE “the question” Dr. S. was the kind Indian pediatrician with long flowing black hair, a gentle yet professional demeanor, who worked with me on my son’s vaccine schedule without a negative attitude, patiently walked me through Lucas’ first ear infection, and adored my son.

NOW she is the kind Indian doctor with long flowing black hair, a gentle yet professional demeanor, who worked with me on my son’s vaccine schedule without a negative attitude, patiently talked me through Lucas’ first ear infection, and adores my son…and asked if I was FUCKING PREGNANT!  Come on, seriously. 

Dr. S. could barely look me in the eye after “IT” happened.  I knew, that she knew, that she committed the verbal cardinal sin against women.  Never ever ever ask a woman if she is pregnant.  If you are wondering…and you are on the fence…and you are not sure if she is or isn’t pregnant, even if the she is your wife…DON’T ASK.  Just hit the woman with your car instead, it will be less painful for her.  

The only person who should ever ask if you are pregnant is your Ob/Gyn, and even then the doctor better be DAMN sure you are.  Like in the hospital birthing room with your legs in the air staring at your vagina while your baby is crowning sure.  Like your Baby Daddy is standing there with a video camera, your Mother is standing there crying, and your vagina looks like Stretch Armstrong sure.  Otherwise it might just all be gas.

Dr. S. apologized and I fought back tears.  I will admit it, I got a little misty eyed.  The worst was disappointing Dr. S., whom I love.  She was so excited for me.  Her face lit up when she saw me and excitedly asked if I was pregnant. 

No not pregnant with a baby, just filled with humiliation, Zoloft, and chocolate chip cookies. 

It is all good.  The anxiety has lessened a lot, I am switching to a mediation that my doctor thinks will help with the weight, and it makes a funny story.

I’m laughing all the way to the gym.

M

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