What. A. Day.

Yesterday morning, I had an appointment with my doctor regarding my meds. I was sure I just needed an increase in dosage, or a different medication altogether. Before the appointment, I decided I should probably go get the blood work done that she requested months ago. No fun. I hate hate HATE needles. In fact, I probably make a bigger scene than my children do. And I also ALWAYS ask for the butterfly needle. Actually, I don't ask. I outright tell them that the butterfly needle will be used, or I will not be poked.

Anyways, the appointment itself was not fun. I got to the doctor's earlier than the appt because I didn't want to sit there forever. I got in early, the nurse was wonderful. Dr P comes in. I like her, and I have never had a problem with her. But all of a sudden, she's acting like I'm an awful person. "Oh, you said the main source of your 'anxiety' is your*son*, right?" with a dirty look. I said "Yeah, he has a lot of problems and we're working on fixing them, but at this point, I wake up anxious to see how he's going to behave today. Then it starts all over again at 3:30 when the kids' buses are due home". She gives me a look and says "Well, are you doing anything to help the poor kid?" No, not at all. I'm just letting him, and myself, suffer. She goes back to the computer, types in a few things, then turns around, and says "Are you still breastfeeding her?" *scoff*. Yes, yes I am. I have no intentions to wean, so don't ask. She turns back around, scoffs again, and mutters something under her breath. I asked about the blood work I had done. While she was looking it up on her computer, we started talking about my weight and I said to her "I've never weighed over 100lbs a day in my life except for when I was pregnant. I weighed 118 full term with Sofia, 119 with AJ, and lost it instantly both times. I weighed 128 full term with G, and now, 15 months postpartum  I'm 143. I lost a bit of the baby weight after she was born, but gained it all back, and then some." She looked through the files on the computer then says "In 2009, you weighed 100lbs. Yeah, wow. What ha----. " ... Um, excuse me?? Glad you stopped yourself there. That's when she said she'd go call the lab and see if they can push the results through so that we know what's going on. She comes back 10 mins later and says "Well, I have good and bad news. Your thyroid is low. We can start you on medication to help regulate it." I'm not sure what the bad news was, but I find that to be great news. It means I'm not overeating. It means I'm not doing anything wrong. It means that there is a reason why I can't shake this weight, no matter what I do. 

I never thought I'd be more happy to hear that I have hypothyroidism. I started my new meds today, and am hoping to see results soon. I have weighed myself this AM (still 143), and am hoping to see the weight start dropping off. I'm still on the Zoloft, as she didn't think a change in medicine or dosage was in order just yet. Let's work on my thyroid, then we'll go from there. I did my research, though I admit, it was vague. All I know is my thyroid is low, I am not producing enough of something, and it can be caused by stress. Given the issues with my son, I am 100% certain that's the reason. It contributes to weight gain, feeling cold all the time (I just cranked the heat up to 78 and put a blanket on. I'm cold!), feeling tired, depressed, etc. Yes. This is me. Now, we wait and see. 6 weeks on this medication, then I go back for blood work and to see if my levels look better. Secretly, I'm hoping that the pills cause me to lose a ton of weight. I do NOT want to be back to 100lbs. Honestly, I don't. I have looked back through my pics, and see just how scrawny I really was. It was kind of gross. Ideally, I'd like to lose 20lbs minimum. 30 would be wonderful, but I'll take 20. I've been exercising. I have given up soda. Well, kind of. I allow myself a 20oz when and if I go to Walmart. That's it. Otherwise, no soda. I have been cutting back on how much I eat at a time. I'm still hungry often. What I need to do is start bringing my water bottle down and drinking it. It's a 64oz bottle. I should be drinking more. Maybe I'll be able to cut back on how much I actually eat if I increase my water intake.

I've no doubt in my mind that I can do this. I just have to find the motivation. That is awful hard when you're feeling as low as I am. The only time I actually feel like REALLY cleaning, is when I am expecting someone to come over and I don't want them to see my mess. It's not like I have garbage and food and dishes and what not all over. It's just ... toys. And books, clothes, papers. I clean up, and within minutes, my kids destroy it again. Yesterday, I picked up the books off the floor FIVE times. Each time I picked them up, Gianna tore them back down. Pick them up, tear them down, put them away, throw them on the floor, over and over. I gave up. I also have about 6 bins of clothing that I need to fold and put away. Yes, I wash and dry, but I don't sort then fold! It's 2012 ... didn't they invent a folder, yet??? I need one, so someone get a move on inventing it. My kids whine too much, so I can't have them do it *sigh* Maybe I'll get to it today ... Maybe.