One Effexor, Two Effexor, Three Effexor, Four...

Post-partum sucks. Post-partum with grief is a disaster waiting to happen. Usually the only people I tell that I suffer from post-partum are people who have offered up that information about themselves first. There is such a social stigma about issues relating to depression, misconceptions abound. I can't begin to tell you how many times a well meaning relative has told me it's all in my head, just "get over it, you don't need meds, you need to go out and have some fun." Well, thank-you very much for that sage advice...I think I'll go get a bunch of fun tickets and head out on the town. Like getting drunk or acting like a teenager for a few hours is going to cure what ails me. So yes, I'm on some meds. I see a therapist. I cry, alot some days. Right now it's hard to figure out just exactly what is making me so sad, is it the post-partum, or is it the fact that my beautiful baby boy died at six days old? Life seems so overwhelming at times and moving forward is so hard when I wish I could turn back the clock and stay in the moments I had with Calvin. Those beautiful minutes when his chest wasn't cut open and he was awake, lying quietly in my arms looking up at me as we snuggled in the ICU. Time is a thief, stealing away people and moments that matter most. I don't want to move forward, I want to go back. If it were only that simple. One effexor, two effexor, three effexor, four....