Closer to Fine: My Life on Prozac

I'm the first to admit that I'm not a happy-go-lucky kind of person.  Never have been, never will be.  I have a tendency toward melancholy and worry that probably starting showing in infancy.  What was diagnosed as colic or reflux was probably just my inner grump beginning to show. 

I took Prozac and similar medications, other selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), all through my 20's.  My dose was probably too low to be optimal in retrospect but I managed ok.  Whenever I'd try to taper off, sadness would return and I'd go right back on the pills.  Before we started trying to get pregnant, though, I was determined to taper off for good.  I didn't want to expose my baby to meds and that was that.

I stayed off of SSRIs for two full years while we struggled to get pregnant and suffered our first miscarriage (or, more accurately, suffered a miscarriage early in the process and then had trouble getting pregnant afterward).  The months after my first miscarriage were bleak.  Much to my surprise, I could function at work, showing up on time and even producing, while I was severely depressed.  All of my relationships suffered along with me, including my marriage.  Instead of having a partner, my husband had a shell of a person sitting next to him at dinner every night.   My misery and isolation were overwhelming.

The depression let up a little after several months but still lurked.  It came out in full force when I'd walk past pregnant women and racks of onesies at Target.  I thought that because I was functional—I could work and socialize and even fix my hair most days—I was having a normal response to infertility and loss.

Depression wasn't my only ghost.  I frequently had panic attacks but didn't know what they were.  Wouldn't any baby-crazed woman burst into tears when she realized hot baths were going to annihilate her husband's sperm?  Although I didn't recognize the panic attacks, I knew I felt hyped up and generally miserable all the time. 

I became a self-help junkie.  Listening to guided meditations calmed me down a little, so I meditated two or three times a day.  I practiced yoga and journaled.  I went to individual and group therapy.  I spent time with friends.  It all helped...a little.  I still felt oppressed by sadness and worry.

My husband and I started discussing my going back on medication.   He admitted he wasn't entirely sure I was depressed enough to take a medication, whatever "enough" means.   I wasn't entirely sure, either.  I wasn't down all the time.  I was able to enjoy things sometimes and smile and laugh.   But I felt like something had to change.  The happiness I fought to feel and project wasn't fooling anyone.  I felt like I was constantly fighting depression not to pull me under.  Acting normal, you know, like not bursting into tears when a pregnant woman walked by, was so hard.  I was so tired of the act.

Before I went on meds again, we agonized about the safety of taking SSRIs for a gestating or nursing baby.   After a long Q&A session with a pregnancy-specialized psychiatrist, we decided to go for it. 

The timing was perfect.  I started taking Prozac again last spring and had miscarriage #2 in the fall.  Grieving that loss was a completely different experience from the first one.  My heart still broke into a million pieces, but the backdrop of anxiety and depression was gone.  It's been four months since the miscarriage and I can honestly say I feel ok.   Not on top of the world, "I'm gonna have a baby in 8 months!," but pretty good.   No more 3 a.m. panic attacks.   No crying at the drop of a hat.   In other words, very, very different from how I felt after my last miscarriage.

The difference can't all be attributed to Prozac.  I've changed and adapted over time, too, thanks to tons of therapy and support from friends.  I think Prozac is making a significant contribution, though.

In an ideal world, we wouldn't take any medications at all, especially when we're pregnant.  However, living med-free isn't for me, at least for the time being and probably for the rest of my life.  Off meds, I constantly struggle to stay afloat.  On them, I can begin to believe that someday, this will all work out, and the present isn't such a horrible place, either.