The Blues 

I think I have my first glimpse of what postpartum depression will look like if this all works someday. It’s not pretty.

I had my surgery April 25. They took a pregnancy test that morning and I literally laughed at them like “Good luck with that”. I took a serious nap, so serious that I have no recollection of 7ish hours. “What time is it?” I asked. “6:30 pm” my hero with dilaudid answered. “Holy shit” Yes. I’m so classy. I had been held over in the PACU due to room availability and lousy oxygen saturation. 

The pain was excruciating and the nausea was worse. The first two days of this new way of life were the worst I had ever experienced. Each day gets a little better, or at least that’s my text reply. I’m off the pain pills. Everything is great. Right? I’m smiling, see?!?!? 

I’m full of shit. After the pain went away, I was left with a funk. A crying everyday, lonely but yet don’t feel like talking to anyone funk. Partially this stems from sheer exhaustion at the least effort. Showers are so taxing that I wrap up in towels and lie down for a few minutes so I can get the energy to get dressed. I needed a nap after going to whole foods with Hubby for soup (where I cried because it smelled like food that I couldn’t eat.) The weather didn’t help as my big exciting walk to the mailbox and dog potty breaks were mostly done in pouring rain. 

There was sun today and as soon as I spotted it, my diva dog and I were out on the deck. I’m going to have Hubby home all weekend. I finally drove my car today. I won $100 on a scratch ticket. Today could not have had more ingredients for a good day and yet, Hubby left for the overnight and I cried for a half hour. 

“Uh oh” I thought to myself “Am I relapsing in my depression?” Clearly the best option was to google. As it turns out, there is a legitimate thing called “Post-op depression” that is caused by your brain’s adjusting to anesthesia, weaning off narcotics, and not being able to do what you used to. The good news is it usually improves on its own. I’ll probably have to keep an eye on it and know to call my psychologist. 

The good news is, Mother’s Day feels the easiest it has since we decided to try for children. I don’t know if it’s because so much of me is consumed with recovery, or if I’m moving forward and my spirit finds that suitable. All I really care about is not having to sit and watch people eat, so I think Mom’s getting a private visit. 

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