I didn’t really give this the full credit it deserves: my doctor thinks I’m okay.
My doctor thinks I’m going to be okay. Okay enough that I can last through my pregnancy without taking medication.
He said that he didn’t think I was brittle – that with four weeks of non-medicated health under my belt, I should be okay.
I cannot explain – although I’m clumsily trying to – how amazing this feels. It’s sort of like my life sentence just got commuted.
I know, to some degree, that he doesn’t know me well. I know he didn’t go through my whole history. I know that I presented a perfectly normal picture. Of course, that’s because I am perfectly normal. He didn’t need to go through my whole history because I explained it. I am currently healthy. My brain is not declaring war – we’re at peace.
Sometimes, I don’t seem to know how strong I am. Not that I’m bragging – believe me, something this week will knock me on my ass – but I am trying to remember that I am strong more often. I am strong enough to live without medication. I am strong enough to know when I need help. I am strong enough to be a mom.
And I’m healthy. Holy mackeral pants. I’m healthy.