6 Week Check-Up

Mine, not Francie's.

I saw my OB/midwife yesterday for my post-partum visit. I filled out some sort of depression/anxiety questionnaire, and was surprised by how truly lucky I've been to have dodged even the mildest of Baby Blues. It was one of the things I feared most about motherhood, particularly given my history of generalized anxiety and panic attacks. Then again, I have been on Zoloft for over two years now and have had wonderful results. I continued the SSRI through my pregnancy and now during breastfeeding, and am happy to report that there have been no noteworthy (negative) side effects for either Francie or myself. Or maybe it was the placenta pills that helped me keep it all together post-partum. Or the fact that Francie is a pretty good sleeper. Or that she is absolute delight to stare at. Regardless, I'm grateful for the opportunity to truly enjoy the first several weeks with my new baby girl.

Sarah, my midwife, asked me lots of questions about breastfeeding, sleep, pain, and birth control. She then examined my undercarriage, specifically whether or not the small peri-urethral tear had healed, and the size of my uterus.

Everything looked a-okay, so she said, and gave me the go-ahead to resume sex. Not that I've told Alex, because to be perfectly honest, it sounds terrifying. Terrifying because the last event Down Under pretty much ripped me in half. Terrifying because that very act is how we got ourselves a baby, and one is plenty for now. And terrifying because my vagina is very unlikely to resemble anything like the tight, virgin (ha!) flower it was when Alex and I first got together. Not to mention, when on earth do new parents find time to have sex?!? Seriously, one of us is almost always tending to the Bean, unless it's nighttime and she's sleeping. And then so are we. Plus, she's either in our bed or right next to me in her cradle, and that's just kind of creepy. It's bad enough with Gizzy in the room, and she's just a dog who hides in the corner.