My Dear Toddler,

You're just hours away from turning 13 months old. It boggles my mind how a month has already passed since your first birthday.
You have been outside of me, in this big ol' world, longer than you lived in my womb.

Those first moments, when we met the very first time, those sure were something else, huh? Before you let out your first cry I was panicking inside, praying everything was ok and willing you to scream ferociously. Then you did, with your hefty, angry, newborn lungs. Those first cries broke my tear-damn and I sobbed thank you's as you were placed on my chest. You were the most beautiful, pink, wet human I'd ever laid eyes on.

I can't believe how grown up you are... how fast you can walk, how many words you understand (and even say!), how deep your emotions run. It's hard to imagine you a helpless newborn anymore.

Soon you'll be running outside, playing catch with Daddy, climbing trees, playing hopscotch. It'll feel like a blink or a heartbeat, same as these past months.

So many new and wonderful changes, amazing things you learn every day. But you're still a baby at heart. You still want me when you're tired, hungry or hurt, and sometimes just because. You still laugh that little "he he he" when I ask if you want milk. Your little (though not as tiny now,) fingers still grasp for mine as you drift to sleep.

In another blink you'll be oh-so-grown.

But you will always,
forever and ever,
be my baby girl.
The daughter who made me Mama.

Trying To Be Helpless

It has been way too long since I've visited. The only reason I am here now is because I don't know how else to get these thoughts out of my head.

I have finally given Zoloft the boot, tapered off completely over the course of a few weeks, taking my last (ever and good riddance!) dose last week. Prescribed this "considered safest for breastfeeding" SSRI at 6 weeks postpartum, I've struggled with the decision and it's been a love-hate relationship the entire way. I surely needed something to help keep me in check while the hormones tried to balance out, but I am not convinced now that this was the best choice. The withdrawal hit full force this past week and I pray it's over soon. "Hi, my name is Cassandra. It's been 10 days since my last dose... Oh, and I feel like I'm losing my mind!"

Oh man, the jumbled thoughts, tremors, clumsiness, "brain zaps" and itching have been making me crazy all weekend. At least the intense anxiety and irrational irritability has subsided. That's got to mean something good, right?

My greatest problem right now is my own pride. Thinking that I can handle this on my own. Wanting to be strong, stoic and in control. The truth is, I still feel competely out of control. My mind has trouble finding the correct words, my fingers aren't working quite right...dizzy spells spin my world and anxious thoughts wreck my concentration. I honestly cannot handle this on my own.

This is where becoming helpless comes in. If I remember that I, of my own broken self, am completely incapable of getting through this graciously, maybe I'll be open to letting God help. He's the only one who can mend my shattered nerves and calm the anxious heart. I've tried medicating, meditating, mediating... it must be time for some mending from the Master mender of brokenness.

1 Peter 5:7 popped up the other night during another inner battle, and the version above really got me. The word "anxiety" stuck out like a sore thumb and made me think... anxiety is exactly the problem right now, but my anxious thoughts and hairbrained schemes of paranoia aren't something to hide. I should just toss them over to Jesus and let Him deal. (I know, duh, right?) I think I had this skewed idea that because my anxiety was (at least partially) induced by my own decisions (first to medicate and now to stop,) that it wasn't something to give up to anyone else (even God!). How wacky is that logic?! Man, my head has been through the wringer. All the more reason to let God take it. I haven't a clue what I'm doing! Ha!