Benjamin is now eight days old.

Today has been a good day, compared with the past few.

I slept last night for probably. . .six? hours. Not straight, but total. Not too shabby.

I had, last night, decided that I might just call this whole breastfeeding thing quits. But I called a lactation consultant today; Cindi somebody (can't remember her last name), who was recommended on the Triangle Mommies forum. She seems, on the phone at least, both knowledgeable and nice. Sympathetic to the plight of new mommies. She's coming here to the house tomorrow to do an assessment. This'll cost money, but if she can help me feel better about the whole breast feeding thing, it's money well spent. And I've decided to give it three months. If I can nurse him for at least three months then I won't let myself feel guilty for stopping. If at three months things are going smoothly, I might consider giving it another three months so that he'll have been nursed for six months total. Almost all of the studies I've read about the benefits of breastfeeding use six months as the time frame of the study. But if at three months I'm still having issues and it seems that we would both be better served by bottles of formula, that's what I'll do.

Other than the breastfeeding thing, though, I wish I could make myself feel better in general. I am trying so hard to be upbeat and optimistic, but this depression lies just beneath the surface and it takes just the tiniest scratch to bring it bubbling up. I can be feeling fine, then wham! it'll hit me.

Today the "thing"that has me depressed is the loss of freedom. I think back to a mere week and a half ago, when I was lying on the couch, reading a book, doing what I wanted to do, when I wanted to do it. Or a month ago, when Donald and I spent the evening all by ourselves in a bed and breakfast, no demands on us at all. And yes, of course I thought about all of this when I decided to get pregnant and I was perfectly aware of what sort of sacrifice of time, emotion, etc. having a baby would mean. . .but that doesn't change the fact that right this moment I'm a tad resentful. And OF COURSE I feel guilty as hell for even feeling that resentment. So there you go, today's problems: resentment and guilt.

And those are just the most recent bit of neuroses to strike me. Add it to the ongoing feeling of inadequacy, the constant worry over things I can't change, and the overwhelming anxiety I have about the future (both near and distant--e.g. from having to go back to work to Donald's health) and what you have is someone who feels completely out of control and lost. And I can't get it to stop!

Far out. Just typing about all of this has gotten me all teary and morose feeling.

God, what is WRONG with me?? I want OFF this ride!!

Maybe I will go on Zoloft!

In the meantime, thank FSM for Donald. If he weren't here I think I'd have seriously lost it by now.