We just got back from a whirlwind trip to and from Chicago. The short of it is that we had a rare opportunity to see a specialist medical doctor for some of the challenges that our newborn has been having with eczema.
It was insane.
We flew out Monday afternoon on a 4.5 hour flight, landed yesterday evening only to wake up a few hours later for an 8:00am appointment. That lasted through lunch and then went directly back to the airport and flew 4.5 hours back home to SF.
If I was traveling alone or even with another adult… no big deal. But, with a 6-month old? It nearly killed us.
But, we survived and we’ve got a new medical treatment plan and some new found hope about finding some solution(s) to his problem(s).
One of the more interesting conversations of note have been around my partner and spouse, though, as she’s been tested and treated in tandem because of her relationship with baby (i.e. breastfeeding and the like).
The doctor mentioned that he saw in her test results that she might be depressed, or, at the very least, more prone to depression. He mentioned that it’s not uncommon for parents with surprise pregnancies to undergo the emotional and psychological challenge of accepting a new reality… one that they didn’t plan for.
Essentially, that we’re dealing with the fact that we are no longer where we thought we’d be and we’re readjusting and finding a “new normal,” as they say.
I have clinical depression and a host of other mental disorders. My wife, though, does not… at least not clinically confirmed. But, it is possible that she’s suffering, silently, with our new reality. And that’s worth a handful of conversations.
This family sometimes feels as if it can barely stay together with one of us being depressed… do we have room for another (and another… and another… and another…)? Sure, I suppose we do.