8 months

Wow. 8 months today. I am so crazy with hurt at this mark that I am struggling to function with day to day life. Is it because on the 15th when I planned to light your candle, I had never thought to be lighting two? The loss of you two is so overwhelming. I wonder if losing Simon sooner would have been easier than second trimester. But I have a desire to know why he died. It seems easier for me to accept your death since I know why you died. It doesn’t make the pain or anger any easier, but knowing why reminds me it’s not my fault and I did the best I could.
But Simon, I wonder. Did I not do my best? I made sure I weaned off of my Effexor first so this wouldn’t happen again. I begged you to watch over this one and help protect him. I prayed to God not to let this happen again. Is Cole right? When I asked you to pick a special sibling out of heaven for us, did you like him so much you wanted to keep him for yourself? I hate that I had to lose you two, but knowing my babies are not alone is special. I think of you two all the time. But could Simon have been saved? Was my fear what did him in? Was I so over anxious and disconnected that I caused something to happen? When I got pregnant with Simon, I was on my last week of Effexor. My withdrawal symptoms were horrible. Did that have an effect? I’ve read how so many mothers weaned during the first two trimesters to avoid their baby exposed in that dangerous third trimesters. I haven’t read any who lost their child while weaning. Of course, I am certain that those babies weren’t mentioned if there were any. But it would help to know if there was. Maybe to help us better understand the risks. I have spent the last two weeks clinging to my sanity. Lying in bed just hanging on or being with my kids and constantly crying. I am reading book after book about miscarriage and infant loss. So many mention that after loss to turn to antidepressants for help. But I can’t. I know what they did. I know what they can do. And I truly believe they are addictive. Two nights in the previous couple of weeks I took Trazodone our doctor gave us to help us sleep. I took them about 4 days apart. I didn’t understand at first why I was “wiggin out” for my Effexor a couple of times. Then realizing that I had those feelings of needing my pills the following days after taking the Trazodone. So I looked up that drug. Turns out Trazodone is an antidepressant. It didn’t really do well as an antidepressant since its side effect of sever drowziness. So they use it as a sleep aid. Putting an antidperssant back into my system after being clean is like a smoker who has quit and then thought one drag would be okay. I was going crazy. If I hadn’t gotten rid of all my Effexor when I weaned, I am unsure if I would have taken them out and used them again. These drugs are serious. And anybody telling me they’re not addictive are wrong. I’ve had my psychiatrist even tell me that they are not addictive, you just become dependent on them. Huh? Isn’t that addiction? Of course I believe that if you suffer from real deep, chronic depression or other psychosis these drugs will help. But pushing these on anybody scares me. When I first started, my doctor and psychiatrist convinced me I must be depressed and needed these drugs to manage. Wow. How easily swayed I was. Considering having my daughter was so overwhelmingly happy for me. But now I am spiraling into depression and fear an oncoming nervous breakdown (if it hasn’t happened already). Real depression is scary. I have never ever been so sad that it physically exhausts me to get out of bed. To sleep 12 – 14 hours a night and still just want to nap throughout the day. To sit with my kids and just cry because I can’t feel the joy I used to have. I have also never had a problem eating where now, that is something that I have to force to do and hate doing it. I have no desire to do anything anymore. Amery has caught me escaping into my own mind a couple of times. My body is in constant anxiety. I feel as though I’ve started a panic attack and can’t turn it off. I was out of my mind yesterday when I took Jacob for a walk to the pool for his swimming lesson and learned my locket of Matthew is gone. That has not left my neck since I got it. I rub it all the time and it’s something tangible to him that is missing. I spent the whole afternoon retracing my steps and panicking. I know I need to find something that works to ease off this stress. But I have been on my own. Our homeschool teacher graciously gave us 1 week off for me to get better. That’s almost finished and I’m nowhere near “better”. My doctor isn’t in his office since his wife just delivered a baby. And my councellor who said that she would always be there for me, is booked until Friday. I am like a lost child looking for comfort and I can’t find it. Amery is doing the best he can. He takes the kids out for fun stuff so I can stay home. Seems leaving the house causes me anxiety now. But I should be with them and it makes this depression that much more real. That I am not interested in doing these things right now. It all leads to anger. Anger that I was pushed on these meds when I didn’t need them. Drugs that caused long term damage to my 3 boys with me. Drugs that killed Matthew and potentially Simon too. I shouldn’t be here mentally. But I am and it’s because of drugs that the companies that create them convinced us we need them and they’re safe. Is there any option left for me? Is there help without drugs? I am scared. I am desperate. I feel alone.