I had my post-partum visit last week with my midwife. It went pretty well. I have another follow-up when we get back from Texas, to get fitted for a diaphragm (I’m sorry, was that too much? we have to do something in the meantime before the vasectomy) and to see how I’m dealing with the semi-brutal postpartum depression I’ve been going through.
Partly due to the pp depression, partly due to my habit of not being a breakfast eater (why eat when you can sleep in that much longer?), and partly due to forgetting, I haven’t been eating as well, or as much, as I should. While this is good for dropping the baby weight, it’s not all that good for my health. My midwife wants me to take a prenatal vitamin or its equivalent, a calcium supplement, and due to my low hemoglobin levels, an iron supplement, every day.
I went to bed last night with a little scratchy spot on my throat and woke up with it this morning. I had a cold a couple of weeks ago that lasted for only a couple of days, and Joshua’s not been feeling well the last few days. The scratchy throat, as I’ve learned, is an early precursor to a cold or a full-blown sinus or respiratory infection, depending on how aggressive I am in taking care of myself after the onset of scratchy throat. Considering I’m getting on a plane, by myself, with two small children, at 6:30 on Friday morning, I’m going to kick this thing’s ass, NOW.
I told Joshua about scratchy throat, and he pulled together a little cup with my vitamins and supplements, including vitamin C and garlic and echinacea and God knows what else, for me while I got showered and dressed this morning. I also have an aversion to swallowing pills. I’m talking, an aversion. As a matter of fact, i chose a liquid iron supplement and a chewable multi-vitamin (okay, I’m sharing Judah’s Flintstones, I’ll admit). But the rest - oh, the rest - are your health store horse pills.
So imagine my fear this morning when I looked into my little ramekin with my plethora of exciting shapes and sizes. I did it though - only thought I was going to have to call 911 for choking twice. And now, every time I burp, it tastes kind of like I had Italian food for breakfast. That’s gross.