6.22.22. Still waiting for the new prescription to come in.

First, I should start by saying, this isn't my first "live" post. What I mean is, I created this blog to document every step during this journey to motherhood of mine. The first step was really making the plan official with my doctor...and mentioning it to my fiancee lol. (Don't worry. He knows.)My doctor is lowering the dosage of one medication at a time. I am waiting for that new prescription to be filled, so as of right now, that next step has not yet occurred. I'm a bit nervous. He is only lowering it 50 mg for the next two weeks, and will continue to do so every two weeks, however, I'm nervous as to how my body will react--how much will it notice the absence of those 50 mg because it seems to notice everything. That being said, here's some commentary on what being off my meds does physically in the meantime.

Why risk losing my mind to carry my own baby?

I know my options. And I know them well. Adoption = $$. Surrogacy = $$$. Having my own = priceless.

I know what some might be thinking. If you can't have your own, why don't you adopt? Please know, that has never been out of the picture. But for too long has the possibility of birthing my own child been a fantasy I lost sight of. I'd begun to tell myself it was too risky, I wouldn't be able to handle it, why take that chance? In my early twenties, I always planned to be off my meds in order to have a baby--always. There was no doubt about it. Easy peesy. As I grew older, I grew scared at what abandoning the medication I had taken since I was 16 in order to have a child would do to me. To my mentality, my fortitude, most of all, my sanity.

It is a sad thing for me to admit I am heavily reliant on these drugs. I suffer withdrawal symptoms that I imagine share some qualities to the withdrawal symptoms of a heroin addict. I shake, I get the chills, I grow nauseous, forever rocking back and forth on some invisible boat. The room spins. Pain likes to cinch the sides of my head to the point where all I can do is lay down. And this is all only one night of accidentally skipping a dose of Seroquel. And now, my little blue buddy Clonazepam is following in its pale yellow friend's steps. If I skip a dose of this, my head hurts the next day as well, and I feel nauseated.

To have a drug meant to treat the inner workings of your brain affect your physical state so tremendously is frightening. I mean, yes, all drugs have their side effects. But not taking my medication (accidentally) makes me feel like I've contracted a whole other illness. I can't function. I can't think. All because these hundreds of milligrams of chemicals have left my body.

At times, I think the physical reaction I have to the absence of my medication will be greater than my psychological reaction, either that or equal to. And you know what? Physical symptoms, bring them on any day. I just want to be able to not rely psychologically on these pills. I take Clonazepam to reduce my anxiety, and I think when I don't take it, I panic. I psych myself out. My brain gets anxiety that I will get anxiety, and I think it is that way for a lot of people who take drugs that treat anxiety or panic attacks. I think my mind likes to cling to the belief that this tiny little pill has the ability to cure my anxiety. I pop it in my mouth and wait for the steady calm. Eventually, it comes. But it doesn't stay.

I know tapering off my medication (with my psychiatrist of 21 years' aid) will be hard. Hell, it will be more than hard. It just might be the hardest thing I've ever have to do. But I'm going to do it. And not just to have a baby. I cannot be on these pills for the rest of my life, I just can't. I'm 37 now. Been on them for almost 22 years. To stay on them for forty more years--if I even last that long--is absurd. What it's done to my body...my body's tired of withstanding the side effects of Lithium, Seroquel, and Clonazepam. They are chemicals. I shouldn't take them til I'm 87. I don't want to take them til I'm 87.

You know how much I miss being able to hit the sheets at night without a care in the world? Without having to pop any pills? Just lay my head down gently on my pillow and turn out the light. Instead I have to drive home at 2 in the morning from friends' houses because I didn't bring my medication. Can't fall asleep in my fiancee's lap during movie night at home without getting up to take those meds. I can't be irresponsible because I will suffer for it in the morning. And as much as I love my cocktails...two sips leave me reeling and shots? Forget about it.

I am so grateful for my health, please don't get me wrong, as f-ed up as it can get sometimes. I know people have it far worse, and I have been through some brutal struggles with this disease. I have to believe I am strong enough. Strong enough to handle this.

Like I said. It's going to be hard, like, climb Mt. Everest hard. Yes, I did compare going off my medication to physically climbing Mt. Everest. Because that is how much stamina, endurance, training, and sheer will that I will be needing for this journey.

I suspect some days will be worse than others. But isn't that life? And nothing in life comes easy. Give me the protruding belly. The late night cravings. The early morning sickness. Give me the hemorrhoids and the ballooned up feet. I wish to be the one that carries him or her for nine months, be in the worst, most excruciating pain of my life as I bring them into this world, the one to feed and nurture them. I wish to hold them in my arms, knowing I can cradle them for as long as I like. I want my heart to flutter and my eyes to water. I want to smile the greatest grin I could manage. And I will love them from conception til the day I leave this earth. You know when I suddenly realized I was ready for a baby? I thought to myself, hey, bring on the teenager. I'll love them at any age.

(Oh, sure. She says that now.) Seriously. I'm ready. And time is most certainly ticking. Geriatric first mom? Hope not! lol.