I'm not crazy

So I went to see my shrink, Dr. B., yesterday, to fill her in on what's been going on these past few weeks. I should say here (psychiatry gets such a bad rep that I feel like I have to stick up for it) that Dr. B. is great--she is one of the only Black female psychiatrists here in the city, and I've known her for several years, so she takes my whole person into account, not my post-Julian self. Anyway, our time together always feels like a conversation about current events between two educated, rational people, never anything creepy or manipulative as Tom Cruise and his friends might have you believe. She asked if my team of doctors felt that there was any problem with my taking Zoloft and I said no, but that I had some concerns about taking it during my third trimester, given recent studies that show that newborn Zoloft babies are often shaky and irritable. Julian was certainly crabby during his brief life, and required sedation, but I suspect that had more to do with his bad heart and not enjoying all the medical intervention he was subjected to. Dr. B. suggested that I cut back to 25mg for the next several weeks, then to 12.5mg, then finally wean in my last 6 weeks. I have to say that I am a little surprised that she finds me sufficiently un-crazy enough to wean at this point. I thought for sure she's say no way, and I'd be like, oh well, I tried. Now that she's given me the go ahead, I'm a little nervous. What will I do without "mother's little helper?" Here goes nothing.