You Do Still Exist
After you’re a parent, your world revolves around the baby, or babies in this case. You lose yourself and become completely committed to being the best parent. But it is possible to lose yourself too much. You still need rest. You still need nourishment. You still need time to shower everyday (warm spit up running down the cleavage happens more often than I’d like). Good luck with all three.
Even at six months old, there were some weeks where I showered only five or six days of the whole week. Baby wipes aren’t just for babies. They came in very handy at my bedside table when I would be laying down realizing I hadn’t washed my face that day.
So, in looking back, I’d like to offer some advice not twin related. Just mommy related. Everyone is always so baby-focused after delivery. But, remember: you do still exist!
Being the Mommy of Twins
I was so proud of my cute girls. When they were a few months old, I’d dress them up in matching outfits if I knew we had and errand or two that day. I never bothered with hair bows. That was just one extra step I wasn’t willing to make. When people approached us and said, “Oh twins. A boy and a girl?” I wished I would have put bows in their hair. I wanted to say, “They are both wearing purple, you idiot!” But honestly, I didn’t care. These people didn’t care longer than thirty seconds anyway. And there would be some other schmuck in the cereal aisle thinking that they were both boys. What did it matter if they had bows or not?
I was proud of my cute girls, but never kept myself up. I felt empowered that day if I had managed to shower and put my contacts in. If I had time to blow dry my hair and put on a shirt with no spit up stains, I was lookin’ good! A day with makeup and hair, and a nice shirt with dressy jeans and a matching belt was quite a feat. And if we were going out as a family, I considered it a miracle if all four of us were fed and freshly bathed.
To be honest, I would have loved to be (and still would love to be) the perfect mommy: cutesie outfit, perfect hair and makeup, great attitude and a happy smile waiting in line at Starbucks with a jogging stroller for my nonfat latte. But for a long time, those days just didn’t exist. There were a few reasons for this. I didn’t lose any baby weight: none, zero, zilch. I was so stressed the first few months, I just put more weight on. I didn’t take care of myself much at all and it started to show. I still looked pregnant. That made me feel even worse. I didn’t have time to make healthy meals. I didn’t have time to exercise. I didn’t have the money to do Weight Watchers or other commercial weight loss plans. If I would have focused on weight loss, I could have done a little more about it. But it’s never been a real priority for me. I’m sure when I’m 50 years old, diabetic and 400 pounds in a wheel chair, I’ll wish I would have taken better care of myself. What a shame.
Mommy Hair
After I was done breastfeeding, I noticed something that I was not prepared for. My hair started to fall out. Not just like it normally does. It seemed hundreds of strands per day. It was gross. The shower, the garbage can, the brush all had dozens of strands of hair clinging to them. It’s like I was going through chemotherapy. I asked online what the issue was. Some said that I should have kept taking my prenatal vitamins. Others said it never happened to them. I did more research and found it is quite common for your hair to fall out once all your hormones stabilize. Your body has fewer hormones than it has been used to for months and all that hair that wasn’t falling out, is going to come out sooner or later. I honestly thought I might go bald at the rate it was falling out. But after a good long six weeks, it was still falling out although a little bit slower.
I wasn’t bald and it finally did stop falling out. But this whole time, I wore my hair in a wet ponytail, almost every day, for two months straight. And that was even going to work. Yikes!
At about five months post partum, I finally broke down and got a haircut. I was tired of my wet ponytail, fresh out of the shower look. Sure, I was clean. That was all I could ask for most days. I had scheduled the haircut several times and always had to cancel for one reason or another: no time, no sitter, no money. I was always last priority. But in order to start feeling better, I had to step up and be at least on the back burner. Up until that point, I hadn’t even been on the stove.
I finally made it to the appointment and told my hairdresser of my time constraints for personal maintenance due to having two babies and working full time. Heck, I’d even changed my voicemail to a simple, “Hi, it’s Rachel. I have twins and I work full time. I’m busy. Leave a message.” I wanted something easy and that could still be pulled back and out of my face if needed. She said she had just the cure for my lifeless locks. As my hair was pulled up towards the sky and trimmed, I noticed about three inches of root regrowth. I made a mental note to dye my hair before the girls turned three. No way I’m gonna tack on an additional $60 for a pro dye job.
I got a cute cut to just below my jawline. I took a picture with my camera phone and sent it to Ryan since I wouldn’t have time to head home and show off the ‘do before work. He sent back a text that made the extravagant $25 cut worth it: “Me likey. Come home right now. Wink.” Right then, I started to feel better about myself.
Keeping yourself up is a whole other story. The cute haircut lasts a few weeks, and then it’s back to ponytails and barrettes: combing the tangles is optional. I started to tell the hairdresser to cut my hair so I could still tuck it behind my ears, but so I couldn’t put it in a ponytail. She nodded and from the pictures of her three little ones, I knew she understood exactly what I was talking about.
By age one year, I had ‘let myself go’ hair wise three or four times, so I had to learn to treat myself to an upkeep day once in a while. But by age two, I still hadn’t learned. After two or three months of wet ponytails, I’d shuffle in to the hairdresser and come out an hour later feeling like a million bucks. You just have to remember to take time for yourself, even once a month. The whole family will benefit from it.
Eating – It’s not just for babies
I previously mentioned that it is important to eat while trying to breastfeed. If I had figured out earlier how to eat while taking care of two infants, maybe my breastfeeding experience would have gone differently.
While pregnant, I thought prep and freeze dinners purchased by one of the new businesses in town would be a great idea. Heck, I mentioned I was pregnant with twins and they did the preparation for me for free. But once the babies came, I didn’t have time to preheat the oven, let alone follow directions with multiple steps. At 6 months old, I still had a few plastic bags in the freezer from our first venture with prep and freeze. I felt it was money well spent, just not great timing and not practical for our needs.
We tried easy microwave meals that didn’t need a fork. Hot pockets and various frozen sandwiches. In one week’s time, I gained a total of eight pounds because all I ate was frozen crap, Dr Pepper, whole milk, and string cheese sticks. I decided Lean Pockets would probably be better.
Ryan was concerned about sodium, so he decided we needed Healthy Choice and Lean Cuisine type frozen dinners. These were fine for a while, but I got tired of the same things after about a month. Frozen lasagna logs or other readymade but frozen meals you can throw in a preheated oven worked marvelously. But considering our staggered schedules, those meals were few and far between.
We had always been a ‘fend for yourself at mealtime’ kind of household. Throwing twins in the mix etched this rule even deeper in the stone slab. When my mother in law came to help for a week when the twins were a month old, she found this rule out first hand. She’d be caring for the girls. I’d grab a peanut butter sandwich and as I took the first bite, I’d ask if she would like anything. A poor excuse for a hostess, but if visitors didn’t understand, that was their problem.
As time went on, it really didn’t get much better. At almost a year of age, it was still mealtime self-service. The kids were fed well: the parents, not so much. I found myself eating what I fed the girls: a small selection of whole wheat bread pieces, cut up canned fruit, and shreds of cheese. Then I discovered that I could make some extra of whatever I was feeding them and eat that. What a novel idea! It’s almost like I have to cook for a family now. Oh brother.
A Whole New Kind of Tired
I thought pregnancy tired was bad. New twin mom tired is a whole new kind of tired. It’s the “I am so completely tired but the babies are hungry/crying/need to be changed/ need a bath/sleeping and I still have to throw in a load of laundry, throw in a load of dishes, eat something, wipe the counters, take a shower, call the pediatrician, clean the toilets, call the bug guy, take out the garbage, pay the phone bill, vacuum, fold three loads of laundry, get the bank deposit ready, email my sister, and put together bottles before the next feeding. And if we could be ready to head out and drop off the bank deposit, buy stamps, and get some groceries, I’d really feel like I got a lot done today.” And do you know how much of that stuff actually gets done? One or two things. That is all. Get used to that. Don’t stress yourself out. Some things just have to wait. Does it really matter if you have a clean toilet? Not really. The kids are fed. Do you really need to wipe the counters? Not really. The babies are bathed. Do you really need to stop at the bank? Why are you not using automatic deposits? Do you really need to pay the phone bill? Why are you not using automatic payments?
What I really need is more sleep. But that is not going to happen. And if I don’t get my butt in gear, nothing is going to get done and I won’t have any bottles for the next feeding.
So, I drugged myself.
Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t use illegal drugs. I went right down to the pharmacy and bought the drugs. Sweet, sweet caffeine pills. I actually bought “headache” pills which were Tylenol and caffeine together in one lovely tablet. My morning medication was a miracle on those horrid mornings when the house was a mess, there were no clean bottles, I hadn’t showered for two days and the babies were crying. Life continues. Things must get done.
I will admit there were a few mornings when Ryan was exhausted and I knew that if I made him get out of bed, he’d be cranky all day. So, I had to do it. Change them, feed them, burp them. Now they are content, but they are still awake. Oy. I’d strap the babies in the bouncer chairs and (lowering my head in shame) point the bouncers at the television and let my three month old babies “watch” cartoons for an hour or so while I took a “Mommy Nap” on the couch. “Mommy Naps” aren’t even really sleep so much as closing your eyes and tuning out for a few minutes at a time.
But things get better. You adjust and adapt. You find that with some morning headache meds or some coffee, you can somewhat function, or at least attempt to function and actually get some items checked off the everyday lists.
Sex after babies
I’ve never told anyone this, but it is part of the experience, so I may as well let the cat out of the bag.
Upon hospital discharge, I was given instructions about the babies and instructions about me. My instructions were things like take the prescription ibuprophen 800 every 4-6 hours. Change the bandages on the c-section site every so often and watch for infection, fever, redness, tenderness. Also for six weeks, no vaginal penetration: no tampons, no sex, no douching, etc. Sounds fine, no problem. I was so tired after all I had just been through, I didn’t care. I can’t imagine what women felt like who just labored for ‘x’ number of hours and then pushed two babies out. I just wanted to be at home as a little family and maybe get some sleep here and there.
Well, by one week old, Ryan and I were happy. We had re-realized the reasons we were in love. We wanted that physical contact. So, we had a fun little make out session while the babies were asleep. It was exactly what we needed. After all, we were still newlyweds in my eyes. Between Ryan’s injury and surgery and my pregnancy, we didn’t have sex as much as we had wanted to that first year. And the six weeks post partum mark came about a week after our one year anniversary. Sigh. We couldn’t even do it on our anniversary.
Well, the make out session was nice, but it only held us over for a few days. We tried another make out session but it progressed a bit further than make out. It was a bit awkward, like when you’re 16 years old making out with a guy and he’s getting friskier than you want. I had to remind Ryan about the six weeks rule. It was strange to tell my husband ‘no.’ He was my husband for crap’s sake! Alas, a few days after that, at not quite two weeks post partum, my husband and I went all the way.
Did it hurt? A little, but he was very careful. He also wore a condom. We agreed that if it hurt more than I thought was okay (it hurt to just hop out of bed in the middle of the night to check a strange baby noise), we would stop. But it didn’t hurt too much. I honestly felt that we needed that, even if we both felt a little guilty for disregarding doctor’s orders.
So, since we were still newlyweds, we disregarded doctor’s orders a few times a week. I felt better and better as time went on because I was healing. By the time our anniversary came around, we had planned a dinner and movie date while Grandma watched the babies. I was reminded by my mother as we walked out the door towards the car, “Remember! No hanky panky!” I bashfully smiled at her. “Okay.” Ryan and I both chuckled to ourselves once we got in the minivan.
I eventually wondered what was so ‘wrong’ about vaginal penetration prior to the magical six week date. I searched the internet, but came up empty handed. I decided to go to the baby message boards and ask. I was too embarrassed to ask under my real login. I made up a new one. Anonymous was taken. I smiled to myself. Anonymous1, 2, and 3 were also taken. So, I was anonymous4. I asked what were the reasons for the six week time frame. And I got a response within a few hours.
I read the first response. Bacteria and germs being introduced. Made sense. I read the next few responses. Risk of infection due to germs being introduced. Duh! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I guess severe exhaustion equals lack of common sense. I don’t want an infection. I told Ryan. He looked concerned. We decided we wouldn’t disobey the doctor for the next week until I went to my 6 week postpartum appointment. How many days away was that?
I checked the calendar. What? When was my appointment? It wasn’t next week. I know I wrote it on the calendar. Hmm. I looked forward one week. In my delirium, I made the appointment for seven weeks post partum. Besides the marital relations point, I wanted to get going on birth control as soon as possible! An extra week would be too long to wait! I frantically called the office. They could get me in the day before my seven week appointment. I was quite upset. In the grand scheme of things, one week doesn’t matter. But when you’re so tired and brain dead that you can’t even count to six properly when making an appointment, now, that’s just shameful! I guess I deserved it.
I checked back on the anonymous4 question, although I was satisfied with the information I had received. A new message. I opened it. I read from a woman who wrote her horror story. It was a one in a million story, but yikes! Now I was scared. A long story short, she got a massive infection from having intercourse before the six week mark and had problems getting pregnant again after that. She said it was very painful every day and had to be on high doses of antibiotics. She had inflammation everywhere and subsequent scar tissue that made it hard to conceive again. She finally healed enough to try infertility treatments and was, at the time, pregnant with twins. Good for her. But shame on me. I should have listened. Why did I feel I needed a reason and a consequence to listen to my doctor’s advice? He did go to school for years and years and would know better than me what would happen. Dumb decision!
Thankfully, I never had any complications from the little encounters Ryan and I had. Next time, I will not be so careless. I will listen to the doctor. No sense in having a sick mom along with brand new baby, or babies as the case might be. Have I mentioned that once you get pregnant with twins, you are 50% more likely to have twins again? Sigh.
Birth Control after twins – Is there enough “control”?
During my pregnancy, I researched the many forms of birth control to determine which I would want after I gave birth. I’m not a great pill taker because I just don’t remember to take it every day, let alone at a certain time. NuvaRing was out for obvious reasons (see Chapter 1). Arm implant birth control had been outlawed in the US but was fine in Canada? When did that happen? Okaaay. I had a few friends on ‘the patch’ and heard frequent complaints of it falling off in the shower. Then it was recalled anyway for blood clots. Sigh. I had been on Depo-Provera aka “the shot” for about five years for painful cramping prior to going on NuvaRing.. I loved that I didn’t have a period with the shot. I didn’t love that I broke my hand by slamming it in a door. Apparently, Depo-Provera depletes the calcium in your bones with long term use. So, that was out also.
I had heard of “I.U.D.” but didn’t know much about them. I did some research and thought this sounded like the birth control for me. Put in while at the doctors office, very effective, works for 5 years, most can’t even feel it. Sign me up! I talked to Ryan about it, since some men seemed concerned with the type of birth control being used. He said whatever made me happy. Cool.
Now there was the choice of hormone IUD vs non hormone IUD. Some women don’t like extra hormones in their systems. I honestly don’t care. I decided that the hormone birth control sounded better for me, but I would wait to make my final decision until I talked to the doctor.
I figured we would discuss it closer to the end of the pregnancy. I was ready with facts and questions by about 20 weeks and wanted to bring it up, but didn’t want to be accused of jumping the gun. By 32 weeks, I really wanted to discuss this and have a plan. But there was never time during appointments. The doctor would bring it up when it was time. I thought I’d bring it up at my 37 week appointment, but we didn’t make it that far.
We ended up discussing birth control the day before I was discharged from the hospital. And this was in front of my mom, my sister, my mother in law, my father in law, my 14 year old brother in law, and any hospital employees in the hallway who decided they wanted to listen in. Embarrassing, but a necessary conversation.
An IUD was the plan. Time frame was at the 6 week appointment.
Post Partum Appointment
The day of my six weeks post partum appointment arrives: seven weeks after I had delivered. I was so nervous to talk to the doctor. I hoped it would be a “Don’t ask, don’t tell” situation about intercourse. But maybe he would just know from the examination.
Ryan was at work so I dropped the girls off to play at Grandma’s. No reason to be up in stirrups with cries and screams coming from a double stroller I couldn’t reach. Too much trouble. I walked into the office and the staff was quite disappointed that I didn’t bring the babies with me. Clearly, non of them had much twin experience. I had some pictures on my cell phone. They said I should bring the girls during my IUD checkup appointment in a month. I politely smiled and said that I would. Whatever.
Once I was called back, they commenced with the usual blood pressure and weight. They also wanted a urine test. Good. The stress of potential infection had me scared to death enough that I was stressed out and hadn’t had a period. No period for a few months was normal anyway. But what if I were pregnant? I think I would pass out.
I was told to go sit on the lovely paper topped examining table with nothing on below the waist. Here is another thin paper product we call a blanket to cover yourself with. I waited. And waited and waited. I waited some more. I was in that room waiting for 45 minutes. I heard the doctor’s voice come out of one room and then trail off while walking into another room. I started to get frustrated, but I tried to look on the bright side: this was time alone, and time away from the stress of babies.
The doctor’s voice again came out of a room. I heard some of the nurses talking with him and his voice says, “She’s pregnant? Okay. Well, we probably need to schedule an early ultrasound to confirm dates.” My heart sank. I was pregnant. Oh God, help me. I can’t do this. Ryan and I were in for it. I thought life was tough now. How were we going to handle three infants? As my mind raced, I tried to listen for any further conversation between the nurses and the doctor to clue me in. He said, “I’ll go talk to her.” And he walked into ANOTHER room. THANK YOU GOD! I owe you big time!
I was fine waiting longer after that. I needed time to calm down again. Talk about pregnancy scare. That was the worst kind I can imagine!
After a good hour of waiting, and a big reality check, the doctor finally walked into my room. My hopes for “don’t ask, don’t tell” worked marvelously and within a few minutes, the doctor was prepping for giving me an IUD. He left the room momentarily and I heard him explain to the nurses, “She didn’t deliver vaginally, so her cervix isn’t stretched out. Did we give her ibuprofen? No? We needed to tell her to take some ibuprofen before she came because this is a little uncomfortable. Just remember next time.” Oh, great. Now I’m gonna hurt again. Why did I have to be in the room where you can hear everything? Ignorance is bliss! It will probably only be a minute of slight discomfort. I could handle it.
The doctor came back in and explained the procedure. Sounded simple. He inserted the expando-jaws into the vagina in order to view the cervix. He needed to pull the cervix open a little with some lovely metal tweezer things. That was not fun at all. Then the placement of the IUD is a quick slide in and retract motion. Not super comfortable, but no more clamping or tweezing of any parts for a while, please. I was ready to go.
The doctor also mentioned that he was sending me for a pelvic ultrasound. During the c-section, he noticed that my ovaries seemed quite enlarged. Great. One more thing to go wrong.
I had to come back for a checkup to confirm proper IUD placement in one month. I would remember to pre-medicate just in case. I made the appointment and realized I was still hurting. I drove to my moms and was still hurting. This was exhausting, let alone plain old twin-mom exhaustion. I walked in an immediately went for the medicine cabinet for anything to relieve some of this discomfort. Mom offered to watch the girls longer while I took a nap on her bed. It was nice to know I could lay down and sleep for a while. I was tired. I could only rest in between baby noises, even with the door closed and the television on low volume. Moms hear their babies’ cries from just about anywhere.
Pelvic Ultrasound
I scheduled my pelvic ultrasound as soon as possible. My sister had something called PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) and was on hormone therapy for its symptoms. Maybe that’s what I had. I knew some telltale signs for diagnosis: namely a ‘string of pearls’ of cysts surrounding the ovary.
I went to the ultrasound prepared to be diagnosed. Since my recent non-baby related ultrasounds (see Pregnancy Woes) were strictly business and no chatting with the tech, I figured I’d see what I could tell on my own and then just wait for the diagnosis from the doctor’s office.
The technologist was super friendly. I would have loved her as my tech for each baby ultrasound and the kidney stones ultrasound and the gall bladder ultrasound. She made me feel at ease and I told her about my recent delivery of twins, how I was curious to see if you could see the IUD on an ultrasound, and my sister’s diagnosis of PCOS which I was also expecting. We chatted about all of these topics and more while she probed and clicked and wiggled her transducer. We couldn’t see the IUD, and she was quite surprised. Hmm. I’d have to check to make sure it was still there later. (It was.)
When we got to the ovary area, I noticed many white dots where I assumed white dots shouldn’t be. I told her, “I know you can’t tell me anything, but those look like little cysts to me.” She said, “Oh, honey. Totally.” This was a cool ultrasound tech. We chatted a lot about PCOS. She confirmed this and said my ovaries were about twice the size they should have been. I immediately worried. She said she had seen some ovaries at over 50 times their normal size. I became less worried. She said there were a lot of cysts but not ‘classic’ symptoms of PCOS. Good enough for me. She made me feel at ease and it was wonderful.
Follow Up Appointment for IUD
PCOS? Iud fine.
Post Partum Depression
I honestly don’t want to admit that I suffered from post partum depression. I admit to those close to me that I did have ‘baby blues’ and I had them for a while. But the real, day to day, horrible moodiness was only witnessed by my patient husband.
For a long time, I thought it was just hormones gone wild. I was of course on the Mirena IUD and I had the ultrasound diagnosing me with PCOS. I was on Yasmin for the PCOS, but it was a nice “double coverage” for our double surprise. For a few months, I noticed during my placebo week of the Yasmin, I was raging-bitch, sobbing, crazy woman. Nothing Ryan did was right. I was short tempered with my refluxing babies but I started sobbing when I had to tell them goodbye and leave for work. If anything went wrong during the day, even the smallest thing, I had tears in my eyes and had to fight back my emotions. I just wasn’t myself. Poor me. Poor Ryan. Poor coworkers.
And since I thought it was just hormones, I let it go far too long. When the girls were about three and a half months old, I went to my family practice doctor and told her what was going on. She prescribed generic Prozac which I thought was overkill. I took it faithfully for a few weeks and my sex drive plummeted.
I was concerned. Ryan was understandably concerned. We’d only been married a little over a year. He’d had his accident and we weren’t able to have intercourse for a few months. I was pregnant and it wasn’t so comfortable a lot of times. Then I had the babies and we weren’t supposed to “do it” for six weeks. Now that things were back to normal and we both finally could whenever we wanted, I didn’t want to. That was ridiculous. I wanted to, but I just never felt like it.
I called the doctors office and they called in a new prescription: Celexa. I took that one faithfully for about six days and started noticing bad dreams at night. The longer I was on this medicine, the bad dreams turned into full on nightmares. I stopped taking it. I called the doctors office. They said they would call in something else.
I was done with that. I don’t have that much money to throw away on copays for new medicine every few weeks. Office visit is $20. Low sex drive medicine is $20. $40 for nightmares. They want me to pay more money for more side effects? No thanks. I never filled the third prescription.
Fast forward a few long months. When you’re describing your feelings to friends and you just don’t seem like yourself, get help. Get help now. Don’t put it off. It only gets worse. Take time for yourself no matter how hard it is. I was about to hire a sitter just so I could go to the doctors appointment. You can’t concentrate and tell the doctor exactly what you are feeling while focusing on keeping two infants quiet and entertained.
When the girls were seven months old, I knew it was time to get help. I made an appointment. And just like my hair, I had to cancel several different times for one reason or another. I was also due for my yearly pap smear. I told Ryan how I was getting frustrated that I had to keep canceling. Ryan asked why I couldn’t just take the babies with me. “Um, I’ll have my feet up in stirrups and the doctor will be shoving stuff in my woman parts.” He understood.
I was finally able to coordinate schedules with a doctors appointment and had Grandma available to watch the babies while I tried to hold my tears in at the doctors office.
After signing in, the front desk staff handed me a form to fill out. All the questions were quite annoying, but then it started to make sense. When was your last period? Describe your flow? Are you on birth control? Are you having any sexual dysfunction or problems with sex drive? Is this a concern for you? Are you having any feelings of depression? Are you unable to control your emotions? This form was made for me.
The doctor came in and asked how the babies were doing. “Fine.” Then she asked how I was doing. It was hard to not start crying, but I had to express myself in a way that wouldn’t make me look like a complete idiot.
I discussed my symptoms. I believed that I had a hormone imbalance and that I wasn’t “depressed”. I didn’t want antidepressants. I couldn’t afford copays for prescriptions that might not work. The doctor said we should change the birth control pills and do a blood test to check hormone levels. Just in case, I should start taking anti-depressants and we’ll go from there. I was given samples for an anti-depressant. I was handed a prescription for different birth control pills and testosterone cream.
What’s the testosterone cream for? Low sex drive. Rub some on your inner thighs every night before bed. Okaaay. It actually seemed to work: not immediately, but within a few days I wasn’t repulsed by the idea of sex. Ryan would be happy.
Fast forward another two months. I felt like the anti-depressants were working but I still had some emotional control issues. I could still get super-mad about silly things. I could still sense that I wasn’t wholly myself. And the sex drive was becoming a problem again, even with the hormone cream. I went back in to the doctor.
Let’s just bump up the dosage of your current antidepressant. Fine. And let’s put you back on your initial Yasmin birth control pills. That’s better for the symptoms of PCOS. Okay, fine.
We bumped the dose and I started to feel extra tired. I didn’t want to get out of bed, ever. I could get out to pee, or go to work, or get up for a crying baby if Ryan wasn’t there. But Ryan held our house together for a few weeks all by himself. I did almost nothing. Putting the high chair trays in the dishwasher to finish the load and starting the dishwasher was an accomplishment during this time. Folding a load of towels and putting them away was a miracle.
After three or so weeks of me hardly contributing to household chores or care of the girls, (sing-song) Mama called the doctor and the doctor said, bump down the dose. Sigh.
Why hasn’t someone invented some medical test, scan, or procedure to determine exactly which anti-depressant I’m supposed to be on? I’m really tired of having all of these extra pill bottles rolling around in my top drawer, wondering if I didn’t give them enough of a chance. I won’t throw them away because what if I want to try that one again? Oh heck.
At one year post partum, I was still messing with the doses of probably the right medication. I took 75mg, but that wasn’t right so they bumped me to 150mg but that made me tired. So I experimented, I’d take one every other day, then one every day. I’d take the low dose one day and the high dose the next day.
Experimenting helped, but didn’t fix the problem. I decided to seek out a second opinion. I went to a completely new office and established myself as a patient. I quickly updated the new doctor on all the dosage problems. She said there was a middle dose, a half-dose pill that we could add to the regular 75 mg dose and try that. It sounded great. After 4 months of a dose and a half a day, I’ve felt much better.
The libido has still been a concern. I told the doctor about the things I’ve tried. The doctor had recently returned from a medical conference that talked about the over-the-counter dietary supplement tablet DHEA (Dehydroepiandrosterone). My doctor explained that it was like a generalized hormone booster. It was a mood stabilizer and could even help with decreased libido. DHEA was still a very new discovery of the medical field and they knew that it worked on many hormone type issues. They were still discovering all the things DHEA could potentially help with. My doctor said to just head to any drugstore and get the 25mg tablets and take one per day. (There are some hormonal type side effects from large doses every day including unwanted hair growth in women and enlarged breasts in men.)
I had great hope in the potential benefits DHEA and immediately called Ryan and told him about it. He was also excited that he might finally ‘get some’ without me feeling guilty. He was out and about and told me he’d stop by the store and pick some up. I told him the name and dosage.
I headed to work for the evening and did a little research. I got a phone call from Ryan a few hours later. “Uh, what did I need to get at the store?” I relayed the usual grocery list of eggs, milk, bread, cheese, cereal and the like. Ryan said, “No the name of that stuff.” What stuff are you talking about? “You know, the pills!” I had told him all about all the pills the doctor and I talked about that day. What pills? Ryan started whispering “The sex pills.” Oh.
After only three days of taking them, Ryan wanted to get frisky. He asked, “So do you think those pills are working?” I immediately retorted, “Don’t put any pressure on this! It’s only been three days.”
A few months down the road and I was feeling, well, less repulsed by the idea of sexual intercourse. That was a miracle in my eyes. I never thought that continuing to take DHEA would cause my libido to increase more than that. But it did. After almost 6 months of taking this dietary supplement, I found myself craving almost daily sexual activity with my husband: something that seemed out of the question a year before. I decided to tone down the doses and take one every other day.
8 wks old gallbladder – sept 19th sx date – ultrasound, That’s a baby head. LOL!
Hi there. You must be my husband. I haven’t seen you in a while.
No TV in bedroom
