curiouser and curiouser

I was reading Ms. Moon's post about stopping her anti-depressant and how she feels anxious and how maybe it wasn't a good idea and how she would wait and see, and it brought back to me forcefully how impacted my brain chemistry is by simply slicing off the 25% end of my smooth zoloft pills. A task I gave to myself after reading a large and reputable recent study which showed that despite what they used to think, zoloft does affect babies in utero, and in a terrible way; zoloft causes heart defects. A statistically higher chance of heart defects. As soon as I felt the first strange, dizzy and hmm life feels strange feeling of pregnancy, I went that night and sliced off the tail of my monkey medication. Less is more, here, for prevention.

Within two days the world as I experience it shifts. I feel slightly dizzy. Off balance. Tears begin to threaten over slights or perceived slights- not like me at all, very much a brush that dirt of your shoulder kind of girl when it comes to everyone but my husband. The irritation begins to tingle my arms, the long smooth ligaments in my legs, and like impatient sperm tiny nerves begin to twitch in the corners of things: fingers, eyes, mouth. I do all the right things....I take fish oil and B vits daily in addition to my gluten-free prenatals, I eat right, I am avoiding all caffeine for Biggie Pea anyhow, and I know all about diaphram breathing ( which has nothing do do with birth control ). Exercise is the main weapon against anxiety and I can't use it to it's fullest, because during this first trimester I'm not going to do the kind of heart pounding work that lowers anxiety.

And so during a time when everyone expects beaming optimism and the hope and renewal of new life, I'm suppressing internal growls of irritation about the manners of co-workers and stomping my feet to rid these legs of their frizzy bratness. As my co-worker says to the kids Oh you so fresh! So we can connect the dots, of course, but it all ends in the same place, here, happily gratefully pregnant with Biggie Pea, but sad, daily, just feeling browbeaten and sad. My brain chemistry was surely formed in the trauma of my childhood, but also in the snag of my individual DNA, the " writer ", the " sexual being " - two things very deeply embedded in who I am but also two forces that do call on a kind of quiet awareness; even the life force of sensuality and sex acknowledges, tacitly, the quickness of our pleasures and the poignancy contained in their brevity. I don't regret who I am, but Kermit, it's not always easy being green, is it?

Every day I wake up and feed myself and the kids and deal with the small repetitive demands of modern life the best I can, with the most strength, grace and wisdom I can. Some days I sing and dance with Lola in the car ' boogie down down, let's groove tonight, share the spice of life ' and other days Dakota stands outside of the bathroom asking if I'm Ok while I cry. And I AM OK. I'm sad, but I'm finally all grown up. Almost nothing is too hard for me to tackle. I won't mention the few that are, superstitious. You can guess- they are the same things you fear at 3am I'm sure. Everything else will just be a lot easier to handle once I can replace the tail on my monkey.