Last week, I went to a White Sox game. I am not a fan of the White Sox, actually, I'm a Cubs fan, so going to the Cell was kind of like trepassing in a junkyard or proclaiming you are Methodist when you are really Catholic. We got the opportunity to go from Workaholic's work, and it had been planned for months, so off we went.
When we made the plans to go, I knew that I'd have an infant at home. What I didn't know was that I'd have an infant who didn't sleep through the night and combine that with my pathetic attempt to start taking Zoloft a couple of days before.
When I had Sam, I needed something to help me out after she was born. I wasn't in that mode of wanting to hurt myself or my kid, but I was down and out and cried. A lot. Like...A LOT. So my doctor prescribed me Zoloft, because that is the only thing that pregnant/breastfeeding moms can take for depression. After 3 days, I finally figured out that I didn't have the flu, but it was the side effects from the meds, and I stopped taking them.
This time, I was hoping that the side effects would be lesser. I hoped and prayed that I wouldn't even have side effects. Boy oh boy, was I wrong. I took one pill. One. Pill. And that night, I couldn't sleep. A mother of a 6 week old COULDN'T SLEEP, given the opportunity. The next day, the nausea started, accompanied shortly thereafter by vomiting, and...let's just say that there were other digestive-related side effects as well.
By the middle of the morning, I had decided that Zoloft could go fuck itself and there was NO WAY I was taking another pill. I would rather be depressed. So I didn't. That was Wednesday. Wednesday night, I couldn't sleep either. And I was still nausous, and still, you know. And then Thursday came, and I needed to go to this baseball game and socialize with people who I didn't know.
Thursday I was able to get in a nap, but then we were off to the game. And it was cool, The Cell is a nice park, and there were fireworks when Paul Konerko hit a grand slam. (A GRAND SLAM!! Some people never get to see one in real life, and I was like...oh, that's neat.) I ate a few peanuts and tried to stay warm as the temperature dipped.
But I am going to be honest with you. I was almost in tears more than once. All I could think of was sleep. I was desperate for sleep. I texted Workaholic at one point (when he was about 5 feet away from me) and told him that I was ready to go. I think that was about the 4th inning. I tried to smile and talk to the nice people we were with, but I can't remember any of the conversations, except that I am positive I mentioned sleep more than once in each one. I feel bad, like I shouldn't have been quite so whiny, or kept my mouth shut, or something. But again, all I could think of was sleep. I wanted nothing more than a solid 10 hours of sleep.
We got home around midnight, and, like clockwork, Charlie got up around 3:30am. Of course. I don't really remember Friday, except I still wasn't feeling too hot, and couldn't BELIEVE that ONE PILL could do this to me. And then, Friday night, it happened.
Charlie went to bed around 9pm. And she didn't get up until 7am. The little angel SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!!! 10 HOURS!!!! And the little shit hasn't done it since. But it has given me hope that she'll be come a champion sleeper soon. Hopefully very, very soon.