I had my appointment with the Psychiatry Dept this morning. Mr. W stayed home with Allie after he put her to nap on the couch.

I filled out a 4-page questionnaire and a guy named Ben came and got me, and we talked in his office. He basically validated all of my feelings, didn’t think they were out of line or crazy. He doesn’t think I have actual clinical OCD, altho he mentioned something called “mother’s OCD” or something like that, which is when new moms suddenly go on a compulsive need to tidy up and clean house constantly, or become hyper-vigilant about cleanliness in general, especially around or regarding their child. He didn’t even think an episode I had last nite, which Mr. W felt was very OCD, was anything other than “you were just pissed.” (Allie had another odd 2am feeding, and after I fed her, I realized the stepdaughter had left the light on downstairs when she went to bed so I had to go down and turn it off. Then I saw a wadded up blanket she’d left on the couch. That got me in a cyclical angry thought about all the stuff she’d left laying around in the past couple of weeks, how many things I’d had to put away for her after leaving them there for 3 days to give her a chance to clean them up herself, and because we’d talked to her about her need to pick up after herself and because she had agreed and understood and then talked about how she goes to her new bf’s place and cleans up after him and his roommates all the time, and because she’d offered before to “help out more” around our house and didn’t, I was FUMING. I kept thinking of how she sleeps in every morning and can’t even take 5 seconds to put her stuff away from the common areas and I wake up at 4a and have to do it one-handedly while holding an infant, and the conversation I WANT to have with her regarding this. Allie had rolled over after her feeding and miraculously went out like a light within a minute or two, but I laid in bed unable to take advantage of it for 3+ hours. Mr. W woke up and asked what the problem was, and I unloaded. He patted me and gently said this is stuff I need to tell the therapist in the morning, that I’m way too upset about stuff that’s way too insignificant, but I got worse and worse until I was sobbing. He got up and tidied up downstairs in the wee hours despite my protest and I was left in the dark alone with my guilt, tears, and an iPad showing the solidly sleeping form of Allie.) Ben said the stepkidlet acts in a way that could be considered disrespectful to the household and that she’s simply unaware of how to be more considerate in a home with a newborn. He said I can simply talk to her and let her in on how I feel about having to pick up after her, or have her dad talk to her. (When I returned home, turned out Mr. W had already talked to her in my absence, which is great cuz I don’t want to bring up a freakin blanket and some shoes and seasoning and fork like it’s the end of the world, despite how dramatically I reacted to it.) As for the crying, inability to make decisions or project forward into the future, inability to feel bonded to Allie or “enjoy” her, walking on eggshells around the baby, he said it’s normal hormonal stuff with “baby brain.” Re my guilt about ruining Mr. W’s life, he said it’s Mr. W’s baby, too, and that when Mr. W offers help, to let him help and take the baby and to allow the father the opportunity to bond with his child. (Yes, Flip Flop Girl had already said as much in a comment before.) Even if Mr. W doesn’t offer to help, it’s okay to ask for his help so that I could take a shower or use the restroom or something. He said there’s no guilt in that. The only time I should feel guilt is when I deliberately hurt or plan to hurt someone, myself or the baby, which is not the case here. He said I’m not giving myself credit for the things I’m doing well with the baby, and that nothing I do or feel this first year is my “fault.”

I didn’t expect someone to justify all of my feelings and reactions. It made me feel like I’d wasted my time there.

And in the end, he referred me to a female therapist he thought would be a good fit for me to talk to and made me an appointment on Valentine’s Day. I was hesitant because I didn’t have baby care and didn’t want Mr. W to take another day off for my appointment. Ben said if I can’t find baby care, to take her along. I was concerned it would be disruptive to her routine. He got quiet. I asked if he felt that it was important or beneficial to me and my baby’s care to go to therapy. He said he really did, so I finally agreed. My mom has offered to take a day off to care for Allie, and I’d accepted. (“There’s nothing a grandparent can do that would permanently affect an infant,” he said regarding my concern she may not do what I would do when caring for Allie.)

On my way out, I asked if there’s any way to document this for work. He said sure, the therapist he put me with for the next appointment can set all that up, refer me to a psychiatrist who could do an psychological evaluation on me, and then set me up for an extra month off on disability. So there are more hoops to jump through, and now I was more confused. I need to be referred by the next person to a psychiatrist? Then who is Ben? Who’s the next person? How many more therapy sessions would I need to sit through to get something to show work so that I could use paid sick days and take that additional stressor off my plate?

Just now I checked Kaiser’s website for my past-visit information. It says Ben is a MFT. What’s that? Mother-effing trainee? I didn’t mean that, he was very nice. And it says my diagnosis is “Adjustment disorder with mixed anxiety and depressed.” Can I just print that out and fax that to work? Cuz I’m not ENJOYing feeling like this, as effective as it is in dropping 40 lbs in 2 months.

P.S. As I was finishing the post, the stepdaughter came back into the house through the garage, went straight to the restroom then her room, closed the door behind her, and in half an hour or so left again through the garage. Even tho she could see me at the computer, she didn’t come by or say a word. I’m feeling guilty like she’s upset at me for the talk she had with her dad this morning, but that’s ridiculous because I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going to tell myself that if she’s offended that I’m unhappy picking up after her, then that’s not my problem. I still folded her towels from the laundry and placed them on her chair in her bedroom.