So Sad

{My son making a mess. 2007}

Whenever one of my children does something that they know they shouldn't, I say, "So sad" while whisking them away to spend some time in their room. Lately, it feels as though that phrase is on loop in my mind. So sad, so sad, so sad. I feel so sad. With all that is lovely and joyful in my life, it's still been difficult to act normal and look happy. 

Even so, it wasn't until last week when I was running on the treadmill {striving for that runners high} that I became worried. My breath kept catching in my throat, threatening to become a sob. "What am I thinking about?" I asked myself, and realized that I was mentally in the middle of planning a funeral. Earlier that day, I had become convinced that something terrible was going to happen to one of my loved ones. I hadn't questioned it, I simply tried to prepare for how I would handle it. How would I minimize the trauma for the kids? How would I stay faithful rather than bitter? Now with a shock of recognition, I thought, "This is not normal. All the running in the world is not going to fix this." Resigned, I went home and called my doctor. 

I've been so blessed to have made it this long without medication. Every depression free day since I had the baby has been an additional gift. But selfishly, I had hoped to make it all the way through nursing. Due to the baby's reflux, I need to nurse. More than that, I want to nurse, and I wanted to do it without any risk of passing on unstudied medicines to him. But I need the medicine.

The little red bottle of Zoloft has been sitting unopened on my shelf for 2 days now. I know I'm doing the right thing by taking it. I know I'm doing the best I can by nursing my baby. Still, as I swallow my first dose, I can't help but feel so sad.