It's a good thing we never vowed not to let Chloë watch television. It's all she wants to do now. She wakes up, has her bottle, and says, "Baby?" and "Babul?" which currently mean "The Baby Da Vinci show with all the kids in it" and "The Baby Santa show with all the pretty ornaments in it" respectively. She wasn't sure what to make of the trains and the reindeer puppet (it is the ugliest attempt at a reindeer I ever hope to see), but she loves the shiny ornaments and the children spinning in their velvet dresses.
She's also taken to kissing her laughing doll. It's extremely cute, though it's also extremely difficult to focus on trying to make dinner when I'm hearing loud sucking noises from my seventeen-month-old french-kissing her doll.
In other news, it has now been three months since I took my last antidepressant for PPD. I haven't noticed any lapse, other than what could be expected from first-trimester blahs and pregnancy hormones, and neither has Eric. This is especially good since I tried calling up my counselor to get essentially a mental health check-up a couple of months ago. After going back and forth with her answering service a few times, she left me a message: "According to our records, you've never been to this office. So we can schedule you for an appointment, but I'm going to need more information first." So I decided to forget it--or at least her. Either they had a fire they're not telling me about or they have even worse administrative support than my old OB/GYN. I'm not filling out her novel-requiring questionnaire again. I went there several times and paid several copays. She held my baby when I brought her along because I couldn't get a babysitter, for heaven's sake. And now she has no record of me?
Ahem. As I was saying, I haven't noticed any problems since I went off Zoloft other than what can reasonably be attributed to (a) feeling sick/dizzy/exhausted or (b) random bouts of sadness unconnected to daily events that evaporate equally randomly, or in other words, hormonal shifts. I think I'm a little sadder overall than I was when I was pregnant with Chloë, but I also have more stressors now. I was a bit worried about going off the medication, since I responded so well to it; but it looks like PPD really was temporary for me, which relieves me quite a bit. If I get it again, with luck I'll have the same kind of response.
I've been enjoying the Christmas season a lot more than I did last year, even though there have been all sorts of plans and parties and projects going on. We're nearly ready for Christmas, except for one gift Eric is intent on getting Chloë and one Amazon shipment that's still in the mail. Chloë has been very well-behaved about the tree; she helped put up ornaments (all on the same branch) and has, after a few warnings, been good about not taking them off again. She say, "Gdhree," when asked what that hulking new thing in our living room is. She likes to poke at a gift box a friend of ours gave us, two mugs with candy and cocoa (packaged in plastic), but has been leaving the other boxes alone except for rearranging a few bows. She's going to have fun Christmas morning, though, and I suspect we'll need to pack up the presents that aren't for her before we start opening things. Christmas is more fun with a little one, I think. I'm probably a little more scatter-brained than when I was pregnant with Chloë, too, but Christmas will be well, and I think we're doing all right.
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