I'm not really sure why I feel compelled to do this, but I do. It's important to me that you know that diabetes did not cause my depression. 

Depression has been a part of my life for the past 10 years. It started as post-partum depression nearly immediately after No. 1 was born. I started crying on the way home from the hospital. It didn't stop for a long time. Everyone talked about "the baby blues" but no one ever talked about the feelings I was having: I couldn't stop crying; I cried at the drop of a hat and for no reason. I just wanted to put him back in. I didn't want to be a mom. I remember feeling like I'd rather be pregnant for the rest of my life than be a mom. It was a horrifying feeling. When I finally realized that something was really wrong, it had been nearly a month. When I went to see my OB I sat in her office and looked at this beautiful person I had created and said to her, "I just don't feel any love when I look at him." And then I sobbed and sobbed. I sobbed for the way I felt and for the way I should have felt. She gave me a prescription for an anti-depressant.

No. 1 was probably six months old before I started feeling close to normal. At least close enough that I felt OK to stop taking the anit-depressant (with my OB's permission, of course).

One of the first questions I asked my OB when I got pregnant with No. 2 was how likely I was to get depressed again. "Pretty likely," she said, much to my dismay. After No. 2 was born I didn't have that immediate feeling I had with No. 1. I really thought I had escaped it. Until the first night we got home and I couldn't stop crying again. This time I didn't wait a month to go see my OB; I saw her the next day and took the anti-depressants right away and felt much better much sooner.

It was between No. 2 and No. 3, during the nearly one year when I was unemployed and we were really struggling financially that I started feeling not quite right. It took a lot of strength for me to say outloud to The Mr.: "I think I'm depressed."

With limited health insurance, there wasn't much I could do about it, but I felt good that at least I had said it out loud. I can't remember what for, but I was seeing Harry one day. I didn't think I had been leading him in this direction, but apparently it was clear when he said, "And how depressed are you?" I didn't hesitate to say, "Pretty depressed."

With a little research and some help from a friend of my parents' who is a nurse, we found generic Prozac for just $25 a month. I started feeling better.

I hadn't intended for this post to be so long, but apparently I have a lot to say about this. Enough for at least another post, which I will attempt to write tomorrow.