Hey, so guess what? I am officially weaning off my postpartum meds. I know, you probably want to mail me a card and take me to lunch. There is kind of a long waiting list right now so please be patient.
I went to visit my physician last week to discuss reducing the frequency of Prozac and then stopping the meds entirely. In my head I imagined an elaborate withdrawal scene: J applying a moist towel to my feverish forehead and my mother pacing the floor while a group of pain management specialists strummed harps near my bedside.
I was sorely disappointed. My physician reminded me that I was on the lowest dose possible. Which meant that he normally weaned patients down to my dosage and then they stopped taking the pills altogether.
Whaaaat? No soap opera-style melodrama? No scenes of writhing and shrieking as my body adjusted to life without a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor? What the hell was this whole odyssey for?
Oh. The weight loss. Riiiiight.
I contemplated huddling in the bathroom and faking a night of withdrawal just so J could put all three kids to bed, but I had a moment of conscience.
Goddamn.
Just because they only come every four years...
11 years ago
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