When we came home from the hospital on 9/21, Andrew weighed 6 lb 10 oz, down from his birth weight of 7 lb 5 oz. Eleven days later, he weighs... 8 b 4 oz. That's a gain of more than two ounces a day. Nope, I don't think we have any milk supply issues!
I also went to the doctor today for a follow-up appointment. I'm feeling a small bit better, but still more crappy than not -- I'm still in worse shape than I was the day after the CS. The doctor said that the antibiotic I've been taking is the only one she really wants to prescribe a nursing mother, and that in her experience, uterine infections either get rapidly worse or slowly get better. Since I'm not getting a whole lot sicker, she thinks I'm going to improve, and it will just take some more time. I'm to come back in a week, and if I'm still fighting it, then we'll do bloodwork and a sonogram to check for abscesses.
I think that's a reasonable answer, on the merits, but it wasn't really what I wanted to hear. I know there's rarely such a thing as a magic pill, but... dammit, I wanted one. I'm so TIRED of struggling, and feeling rotten, and needing to wait just a little longer. I've spent FOUR MONTHS now trapped in my bedroom, and I am so sick of it and so desperate just to be able to get outside. I kept telling myself I had to hold on until the third trimester, until 32 weeks, until 34 weeks, until 37 weeks, until the baby was born. I really thought that once the baby was born, I'd be able to start leading a normal life again. When the infection started, I thought I'd go to the doctor and get antibiotics, and they'd start working. After a day or two, when I wasn't progressing, I thought I just had to hang on until today's appointment, and we'd try something different. Now, I have to hang on another week, and while a week isn't really a long time, I'm just flat out of patience.
I cried in the doctor's office, and she asked me if I felt like I had postpartum depression. I replied that there's nothing wrong with me that won't be fixed by getting healthy and being able to live like a normal person instead of an invalid. I *do* feel pretty freakin' depressed and disheartened right now, though. I don't need anti-depressants to fix it, though; a walk around the block, or a trip to the bookstore, would be all the medicine I need, if I just felt well enough to be able to do them. I hope that happens soon, I really do.