those crazy mamas

Ayelet Waldman’s column on Salon today is about her decision to continue taking the SSRI Celexa during her pregnancy with her fourth child. I know EXACTLY how she feels – I too decided to continue taking the Zoloft that - and I am not speaking melodramatically - changed my life. And so my third child is presently swimming around in a pharmaceutical soup.

Gina warned me that Ayelet’s column today was about this topic; I wasn’t sure I wanted to read it, not knowing if it would make me feel worse or better about my decision. Turns out I feel much, much better. It's not as if I haven't read every single study I could get my hands on, or consulted every medical professional I know. It just helps to know I am not the only one who's made this particular decision in this particular way.

Waldman’s second paragraph beautifully sums up my life pre-Zoloft. I was in constant mood swings, exploding with rage or manic with joy, weeping bitterly or laughing hysterically, screaming for very little reason at my husband and my child or blissfully, deliriously happy…until the next thing that set off the rage. It’s still a minor miracle in my mind that Dan and I did not divorce. I still refuse to accept complete fault, but really, Dan put up with much, much more than any reasonable man should have to. When I finally realized that I could take a medication that would allow me to live life like a normal human being, one who still got upset or angry but was able to temper that sadness and anger with something approaching reasonableness and level-headedness, it was as if the heavens had opened, and a ray of sunlight straight from God beamed down upon me, complete with celestial soundtrack.

I started out on Serzone, which has since been pulled from the market due to several cases of liver failure. My mother died of liver disease but I still continued taking the Serzone I had until my psychiatrist and I figured out an acceptable substitution, which turned out to be the Zoloft. I also am on a much higher dose than most people I know who also take this drug (apparently it is the highest dose you can take before they clap you into the psych ward), but it works for me and I refuse to surrender my life ever again. If I have to take this medication for the rest of my life, I will. I try to view it as akin to the diabetes/insulin link, and no one would suggest discontinuing my insulin dose if I were diabetic.

So I have suppressed my guilt at exposing my third baby to this drug in utero, reasoning that I have two children now who do not deserve to have their lives turned upside down by the Monster Mama that emerges when she is off her meds. My husband has done more than enough in the way of taking care of all of us while I vomited and laid in bed for the first four months of my pregnancy; he doesn’t need to do all this in an atmosphere of anger, screaming, tension, and sadness. So I pray (and that is NOT my usual way) that my new little one is normal; I pray that I have not seriously affected his/her future or development, but I continue to take that magic little pill every morning and night.