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Tuesday, May 24, 2016

Days Like This

Every Regret I Have Will Go Set Free...

This is Kim Taylor's Days Like This - It's been one of those days where I just gotta let go after giving it what I had and be okay with what is. I always listen to a lot of music on days like this. So  I will share one anyway:

"And all I wanna do is live my life honestly."
"I just wanna wake up and see your face next to me."

"Every regret I have will go set free."
"It will be good for me."
"It will be good for me."

Progress is slow and I take incredible baby steps. But at least I am taking baby steps now instead of no steps. For me, that's progress and I can and will share that with all of you.

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Thursday, May 5, 2016

The Painful Truth

Seventeen Years and Counting

It was seventeen years this March 11th that my son was born and one month later on April 11th that he died. It was at my hand that he died. I almost used the word fault, but I feel and believe had I known about Postpartum Psychosis and been treated for it, my son would be alive and celebrating his seventeenth birthday this year. So, while I feel responsible, it's hard not to, I refuse to use the word fault.

There's a very painful secret truth that anyone who is responsible for the taking of the life of another person, (and I cannot be certain if this just stems from solely being responsible for the life of the person you were also supposed to be the champion for as well that makes this as painful) but I suspect there would be some deeply rooted secret pain there regardless.

What I am trying to say is this:
When you know that the life you are responsible for was your very own child. Your flesh and bone. It becomes such an unbearable and intolerable pain, that moving through life at times becomes too much. For those of us who struggle with or who have struggled with suicide ideation in the past, you grasp at anything to hang onto.
Those moments when life becomes so raw and the world is so vicious. When there seems to be nothing but darkness and you are all alone inside your head. When you want to just have someone beside telling you everything is going to be alright. There are times when a hug would seem to set the world right again but you are sitting alone, looking at an empty room.
These are the most difficult moments. I know this. I live these moments too.

The struggle is real. It's been seventeen years and the grief, remorse, guilt changes over time but it doesn't go away. 
When you know you have taken a life, no matter the circumstances, it is such a difficult, daily thing to live with. It eats away at your soul and it never goes away. You just learn to deal with that gnawing feeling being ever present. There's a weight you feel upon your soul that even on your most carefree days, it's there. You don't normally tell anyone that at the drop of a hat, if someone said just the right thing in any given moment, it may make you burst into tears. Or no matter how happy you appear, there are any number of variables that will spring forth a memory.

It helps me to help others. At least try to help others. When I hear about moms suffering with Postpartum Psychosis and losing a child, their life, or both; it brings me back in time. I know where they are. It's such a scary feeling not understanding what's happening to you and even once you do, trying to climb out of that dark hole to find your way back onto even ground again. Start to understand what just happened to you and then deal with the grief and loss. Your family dynamics shift. People don't understand and many of them likely never will. You are scarred for life and most of those scars are not visible.

So many don't want to hear or know this painful truth. They just want you to get on with your life. They don't understand that this is your life now. This will always be your life and it would be wonderful if they could be a part of your painful truth. 

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Monday, February 29, 2016

Whatever it Takes

Life in no Uncertain Terms

I've known for quite some time to hope for the best, expect the worst and know it will fall somewhere in between. 

At the beginning of this month, my son-in-law, stole my daughter's SSI check for which he was the payee, and took a bus back to Maine. He also took the rent money and didn't even leave a dollar for his 6 month old son. We have been fortunate enough to have made a couple friends here in our short time here. Those friends, who owe us nothing and have no obligation to me or my daughter, took us in. I am now at the point where I am selling my pink moped and have listed it on Craigslist. Because sometimes you really do have to do whatever it takes.

My daughter and I both at least two separate times have reached out to the in-laws to explain what happened and let them know their son left his baby here with nothing. Now this is not the first time nor should I expect it would be the last time he would pull something like this. Without going into details, I have had to excuse myself more than once for the excessive name calling he subjected me to. Not only did I take him to medical appointments, buy his medication, clothes, food and countless other things for a year prior to us leaving for South Carolina, I transported him to court and other miscellaneous things. More than once I missed a vehicle payment. In return for that, when I was behind six weeks on my car payments, he called the title holder in Maine and took a $250 payment for telling them where I was. My vehicle was repossessed. He then proceeded to complain we didn't have a vehicle to get places. 
Shortly thereafter he left just me, without rent money and took my 39 week pregnant daughter to
postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow ramsey, mypinkmyrtlemoped, pink moped, myrtle beach
Bringing back a stroller I picked up for them

When they wanted to come back a couple months later, I gladly took them in and spent all my funds buying the baby what he needed along with toys, baby gear and two months worth of rent. 
I knew something along these lines would happen. Am I sorry he's gone? No. He was more than unpleasant to be around and was spiteful, angry, antagonistic and arrogant. I am greatly saddened though that my grandson will not have his father around. As much disdain I had for that man, I could never deny a child the opportunity to spend time with their parent. 

My daughter was heartbroken and devastated that he would just up and leave within a 20 minute window And take all of the money with him. Not leaving his son anything. What a legacy. 

So, did my daughter's in-laws even respond when either of us reached out to say 'hey this baby needs diapers, food and more'? No. Not even an acknowledgement of getting the emails (although facebook does provide that nifty little time stamp when someone reads it). Hey, facebook is good for something after all besides endless food photos. 
The only person who helped at all, was my own father. He is not working and has had numerous surgeries on his shoulder making it impossible for him to work and the process he has been going through to get disability while he is healing has been unending. He has a beater for a vehicle, lives on next to nothing and I do mean nothing. He is probably the least financially stable and has no money. I mean literally No money. Less than paycheck to paycheck because he doesn't get a paycheck. So the poorest financially has the most to give. He would rather go without than see his grandson without what he needs. 

I will tell you what my daughter's in-laws said the last times they asked for help (which was just a short while before my son-in-law left), they said they couldn't because their accountant died. What!!?  Even as I sit here and type this, I am in awe of the disconnect between some affluent people and what it really means to be without. Apparently their idea is going without an accountant. 

So, here we are. Several weeks away from standing back on our feet independently and I am left with selling My Pink Myrtle Moped. This has been the first thing I have owned outright since selling my things for North Carolina and then losing everything in the fire. I know most of you know how freeing and happy I was to have it. I even made an instagram account #MyPinkMyrtleMoped and shared some photos. I've driven that thing everywhere; hot cold and raining. 

But sometimes you have to do whatever it takes to make sure those around you are cared for and have what they need. I have nothing else to sell right now that's worth anything. I am trying and it seems as though I am spinning in circles. I need money to get the things I need and I can't get money without those things. But, sometimes you just have to do whatever it takes to survive. In this case, unfortunately, it means selling my beloved Pink Moped. 

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

 ~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Friday, February 19, 2016

Silence Really is Deadly

Suicide's Best Friend

Suicide has a friend and it's called silence. When you remain silent, when you don't speak up, share your stories; suicide is winning. The only way to erase stigma is by talking. Talk to each other. Help each other. You are responsible for making those around you aware of how suicide has impacted your life and those you care most about.

In my life I have know  more people lost to suicide than I care to think about. I can tell you from personal experience that not talking about what happens just bolsters the courage of the next person to follow through with taking their own life.
My mother hung herself in our bathroom when I was 14 years old. We
postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow ramsey, suicide, depression, mental health awareness
didn't talk about it. We rarely spoke of her. The little that was talked about was in anger. It left everyone in the family asking questions. But, no one was asking those questions out loud. There was so much shame surrounding my mother taking her life (and I can tell you with certain family members there still is) that not a word was spoken. We didn't go to therapy. We certainly weren't raising any awareness around suicide, the loss of a parent and loved one. My mother was not just my mother. She was a sister, an aunt, a daughter, a friend and so much more. She has been reduced to the woman who hung herself in our bathroom.
The year following my mother's death, her father (my grandfather) sat a chair in the doorway of the shed that was attached to our old Maine house. He called my grandmother on the phone (she was across the street at her brother's house) and asked her to come over. (They were separated at the time) She started out the door and walked partway down the drive before turning around and heading back into house.
The fog was so thick that August morning, you couldn't see from one house to the other. They were maybe 100 yards apart.
She heard a gunshot. My grandfather had shot himself in the heart. I was thankful when I got up that morning I couldn't see into that doorway. I've always felt him shooting himself in the heart was significant. His daughter, (my mother) had hung herself the year before. But, no one spoke of this. What questions did he have that were unanswered. The same as the rest of us. But no one spoke. 

I have a responsibility to raise awareness. The road has been long and it's not over. But, what good can come of keeping silent? Suicide wins. Through the years, since that time, I have lost friends. Many friends. We have also lost so many with the Postpartum Community. You are not alone. You are never alone and there is always someone willing to talk to you. I am always willing to talk to you. There are communities of women (and men) who are more than willing to stay up, take your call. Chat with you or just be there on the other end of the computer. I've stayed up many nights, I've gotten countless emails, I've stayed on the phone for hours talking. Just being. Sometimes, just sometimes that's all it takes. People do not want to be alone and you are not alone in this. Suicide cannot win. Don't let it.
If suicide has impacted your life, talk about it. Ask questions, reach out to those around you who have also been affected. They want to talk as well. Someone always has to go first. Anyone who's ever visited this site, knows that's one of mine I rely on.
Be the first. Go first. Someone always has to and it can be you. Suicide's best friend is silence and silence really is deadly. 

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow ramsey, suicide, depression, mental health awareness

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Friday, January 29, 2016

Into The Light - Kristina's Story

Not Just Another Friday

It was a Friday afternoon, but not any Friday afternoon…Memorial Day weekend. I was to spend the weekend with my 2 children, parents, and sister at the beach without my husband because he had to work. Divinely, I was glued to my chair on the front porch of our townhome.

Oddly, I had all sorts of thoughts racing through my head that kept me from getting behind the wheel and driving myself and my kids to the beach. My husband didn’t understand and I don’t think I quite did either. While sitting on the porch, I made a phone call to my best friend. I recall that I made sense when I spoke with her. Then I called my boss and
Postpartum psychosis, surviving, depression, maternal mental health, natachia barlow ramsey, psychosis, suicide
Kristina and Her Family
apparently quit my job (I do not have much recollection of that conversation).
My husband told me later that I sat down and quoted scripture that he didn’t think I had ever memorized. He stepped outside for a moment. In that moment, I thought Jesus was returning. I grabbed our kids and begged, “Please save us, our family, and our friends!” I kept repeating those words over and over. Suddenly my husband came back inside and found me looking pale and weak, holding our children. I passed out. He appropriately called 911. Medical personnel responded quickly. As I became conscience (my nursing knowledge jumped in), I promptly and inappropriately told them to pump on my chest and intubate me. I was mentally sick.
My husband was very frightened and didn’t know what was wrong with me. They took me to the ER where I stayed for 2 nights. Then I was transferred to the psychiatric unit. How does a 30 year old mom of two, with no previous history of mental illness get admitted to the psych ward? This is where my memory fails me. The diagnosis: Postpartum Psychosis.

On the psychiatric unit, I had a sitter with me 24/7 to be sure I didn’t harm myself or anyone else. I stayed on the unit for nearly 2 weeks2 weeks without my babies, 2 weeks I did not get exercise or go outside. I ate in my room with the sitter not far from me. I took a shower with the sitter right outside my door. There are some things I remember but other memories my family tells me. My sister informed me at one moment I thought I was Tina Turner and at another time I thought I was pregnant with Baby Jesus.
I do recall thinking I was on the set of Grey’s Anatomy with Bradley Cooper and Mandisa. Shouldn’t have been such a bad place than, right? Oh so wrong – it was a very, very scary place! My anxiety and paranoia was at an all-time high during my hospitalization.  My memory began to return within the last couple of days while in the psychiatric unit. Many people ask me if a switch just turned on one day. The answer is NO – my memory just got better every day. While in the hospital, I was treated with antidepressants, antipsychotic drugs, and an occasional injection when my mood and paranoia levels began to increase. I do recall trying to escape and being held down by the staff and probably given an injection to calm me down. I wasn’t being me at all!
To this day, I can hardly wrap my brain around how my mind played such dirty tricks on me. But, postpartum hormones are no joke. After spending nearly 2 weeks in the hospital, I was discharged home. For two whole weeks I didn’t see my babies ( 5 ½ month old and 2 ½ year old). I was so excited to get home and see them! But, my journey with postpartum psychosis was far from over, folks.
When I returned home things weren’t back to “normal”.  I couldn’t be with my children alone. I couldn’t be by myself. I couldn’t drive. I couldn’t return to work. Talk about restrictions! I couldn’t be with my own children by myself? Nope. Doctor’s Orders!!
I felt like I was being tortured. There was even a day I couldn’t take it anymore, but the good news is I got through that day and I’m here to FINISH this story! As part of my rehabilitation I attended an intensive outpatient program for a couple weeks, which was 3 hours of group therapy daily. Want to know what that was like? Since I was still out of touch with reality – it was like being in group therapy with my entire family! I did not like it.
After graduating from the intensive outpatient program, I was then referred to a psychologist and a psychiatrist. I continue to see both doctors to this day.

I consider myself extremely blessed as I never had ill thoughts towards my children during this whole episode. I have a new found God given passion to tell my story with other women in hopes to shed light on Perinatal Mood Disorders such as Postpartum Depression, Postpartum Anxiety, Postpartum OCD, and Postpartum Psychosis. My mission is to let women everywhere know that she is not alone. For too long I went around thinking others would think I would be a less together mom if I was on meds, but that’s not true!
Now I’m on meds and I’ll tell the whole world! It’s for my mental health and well-being!  Postpartum Depression is diagnosed in 1 in 7 women. Postpartum Psychosis is seen in 1 in 1000 so, it is a pretty rare occurrence. In fact, my doctor said he hadn’t seen it in over 6 years! I am still recovering very well and am now a Warrior Mom Ambassador with Postpartum Progress, a nonprofit organization to raise awareness, fight stigma, and provide peer support and programming to women with maternal mental illness. Information and resources about postpartum can be found on the organization’s website, www.postpartumprogress.org. I also am willing to share my story in person to appropriate group settings if contacted.

Visit Kristina's Facebook Page and stay updated on her story -
Into the Light: Thriving after Postpartum Psychosis, PPD, and PPA

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Saturday, January 23, 2016

The Dark Silence of the Night

When the Loneliness gets to you

I'm used to being alone. Even when I have others physically near me, I am usually alone. I can't remember the last time I was able to let someone into all facets of my life and with each passing day, month and year I become less and less hopeful that will ever happen. I've become really good at keeping people at arm's length. It's one disappointment after another and that's when I am reminded of how lonely I really am.

Life is hard. Some days are harder than others and I keep trying to leave people better than I found them. It's not always possible, but I am trying. 
I sit here crying, alone and this is where I turn. Because I am expecting a virtual hug at best when I am finished. 
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~ postpartum psychosis,natachia barlow ramsey
I tell myself it's okay if someone else hurts my feelings, I will always reach out or attempt to make the extra effort. I don't ever want to regret how I left a relationship. I would rather make sure I did what I could. 

As I keep trying to date, I know I push people away. I am afraid they will leave, they will hurt me and I just don't have it. I couldn't take that kind of emotional blow in my life. 
I have gotten better at not allowing myself to be taken advantage of though and set better standards for how I allow people to treat me. There comes a place in the middle where with some men I can't tell if I am pushing them away too quickly or I am practicing better standards for how I am treated. At times I know it lies somewhere on the middle. I have little hope to find someone to walk this journey with me.  

I am puffy faced with a pile of tissues beside me. I cannot breathe out of my nose. My cheeks and eyes are swollen and it almost looks like I've been slapped around. An emotional beat down. 

Amazing Grace just came on my playlist. The tears started again. I know self forgiveness is the toughest of all. Because even as I type this words pop into my head all the time like penance, paying my dues, lifelong sentence, this is what I deserve.
Now I can tell anyone else besides myself that is not true and have compassion for them. But I don't feel that for myself. I have given myself a life sentence of guilt and grief that comes in waves. On nights like this, it feels overwhelming, as though the weight of a thousand grieving mothers sits upon my heart. 

You are good, you do deserve love, you do deserve people in your life who love and care for the whole you. All of you; your past, present and future. I am going to say this to myself and I encourage any of you who need to say this to yourself to say it as well. Because it is true and I promise it will feel like it eventually, even if it doesn't in this precise moment. In this dark silence of the night.

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Friday, January 22, 2016

Suicide is Complicated

These Muddy Waters

I was having a conversation a few nights ago with someone who had a friend who committed suicide last year. He asked me "What triggers it? What were the actual thoughts?" I had previously stated that the feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness, helplessness and an unending pain went on for so long that it felt unbearable. It seemed unending. I was speaking from my own experience. My own feelings.

What I wasn't able to answer, was what specifically that person's own circumstances were. People have their own unique set of situations that lead us into the abyss and down into the darkness we can't seem to find our way out of. At different times I have felt suicidal, there have been slightly different sets of trials and tribulations. For me, most of them revolve  around personal relationships and abandonment issues. Again
Postpartum Psychosis, suicide, natachia barlow ramsey, depression, maternal mental health
that arises in different ways as well. 
Through the years I have learned to identify it and recognize the ways in which I start to become affected. I have spoken of this before. 

I have suffered from depression with suicidal ideation since I was 11 years old. Maybe younger, but that's as far back as I can remember having thoughts of taking my own life. 
So there are times in my life that I actively get up and say to myself, I am going to live today. That may not make sense to many of you. But, there are some of you that will make perfect sense to.
Even before I became ill with Postpartum Psychosis, I had a family history of suicide and depression. 
I would like to believe I am a good example of what not to do after your mother commits suicide and a year later her father kills himself. Please get the family into therapy. Don't think everything will just be okay. It will rear it's head eventually. You will have dysfunction a day, or a decade later. 
Drafted January 18th, 2016

This is my life. All I can do is keep breathing and there are days when that is all I do. Suicide became my friend early in life. It muddied the waters for me, especially after my mother hung herself. That was my first up close and personal experience with it. Since that time I have lost both family and friends to suicide. I have my own scars, internal and external.

I sat with someone today for lunch who had expressed needing a friend to talk to. I knew he had gone through a divorce and had a rough time of it and was still a little angry over the breaking down of his family. I have a tough time not reaching out when others appear vulnerable, because I understand what that is like.
I wish we as a community did more to build each other up, even if all it is was meeting someone for lunch. People don't want to be forgotten. They want to know they are important. Remembered. No one should ever feel so empty, so alone, so forgotten, hopeless that things will never change for them, that they want to die.

Please reach out for help if you or someone in your family is thinking about suicide. If you know someone who has committed suicide and want to talk call the lifeline http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

natachia barlow ramsey, postpartum psychosis, suicide, maya angelou, depression, life, poemI wish I could have answered those questions for him. But there's always muddy water when someone takes their own life. There was never one specific thing that triggered it for me. There may have been the straw that broke the camel's back. But it was usually a culmination of things over a period of time. Some questions that will forever remain unanswered. It's something you have to make peace with.
Suicide is a tricky bitch. I may be smiling but in the back of my mind I am having those thoughts. They whisper to you, they comfort you. They were just hiding their pain.

Every person has a breaking point. My heart is aching right now as I think about the people I have lost and that I wish I could go back because I know better now. There are some it was so obvious but I was just too young, too inexperienced, too naive. I couldn't have saved them all, but I could have made a difference to some. Maybe unmuddy the waters a bit. Because life's complicated enough.

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Friday, January 8, 2016

I Survived Postpartum Psychosis

Being the First

I am Natachia Barlow Ramsey. I am a Postpartum Psychosis Survivor. I lost my mind and I lost my son in 1999. No, he wasn't taken away; I took his life when I was ill with a Postpartum Mood Disorder I had never heard of. I thought I was being a loving mother at the time by taking him with me. That's what happens when you are in a Psychotic state. It robs you of your ability to think rationally. So, you lose...

I not only lost my mind that day, I lost my son. I also lost the next several months of clear thinking. I lost the next several years of my freedom and of spending time with my daughter.
I lost the ability of ever being able to have another child when it became
clear I would never be released from the Augusta Mental Health Institute, unless I sterilized myself, so I did.  
I lost my granddaughter and my grandson.
postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow ramsey, maternal mental health, depression, suicide
I lost my right to ever be presumed innocent of anything ever again. There's an automatic assumption of guilt now when anyone knows of my past. That I "must" be the crazy one. Which oddly, is enough to drive you crazy. 
I lost my marriage (that one was likely over anyway given the circumstances surrounding the events leading up to my becoming ill).
I lost most of my friends and some of my family. 

This was and still is a long and lonely struggle. While there are more women today I am able to connect with that know the battle of Postpartum Mood Disorders, losing a child while in the midst of Postpartum Psychosis is still a rarity and many women do not speak of it. 

Actually, let me rephrase that. I am the first woman to start speaking publicly about losing a child to Postpartum Psychosis. I waited 13 years and in 2012, after someone started a hate site dedicated to me, I decided to take my voice back. No one else was talking and I had been so lonely for so long. I thought that perhaps other women were waiting too. Well, guess what? They were. So many women who either been through what I had been through, or something similar. They too, had been afraid to open up. 
Now don't get me wrong. It was a very scary thing to do. I still get scared. I go through periods where I have draft after draft just sitting there, unpublished. I'll go weeks or months without hardly looking at my posts. I just can't. It feels like the weight of the world. But, then I feel like it's my duty to speak for these women. To bridge the gap. To speak for those who can't, or are unable to speak for themselves.

I know I miss some. For that I apologize. I am not perfect. I get frustrated. At times I have been angry at the Postpartum Community for not being better at recognizing these women who are suffering in silence. We are not the perfectly coiffed soccer moms with a little depression. NO! We are the moms who have hurt are children and are outcasts. Were we in our right minds? Were we being hateful human beings? NO! Did we believe we were being loving mothers? Yes. 

I'm sitting on my couch right now and even as I type this I think about how much I wish I could just have a normal life. I can't even find a job. This is not an easy life. I did not imagine this when I was little. I never imagined my mother hanging herself in our bathroom either. I think that's likely where the wrench got thrown in my plans and my life took a big turn. 
My thoughts are this; those events are what shaped me into who I am today. The good and the bad. I had someone tell me don't let my past define me. Well, I do let my past define me. I suppose if only one of the tragic events had happened, I may have just let it pass. But when your past is riddled with tragic events, it seems as though you are destined to either use those opportunities to rise above and help others, or fall under their weight and disappear. I'm choosing to rise above. 
Those events have shaped and define who I am today. Those events have given me experience. Unique experience and an advantage on how to deal with situations that most people can't. I have insights into circumstances
when your past is riddled with tragic events, it seems as though you are destined to either use those opportunities to rise above and help others, or fall under their weight and disappear.
that few have had. 
I was not afforded the opportunity to speak with anyone when I had to deal with my tragedies. I want to avail myself to others so they don't have to walk alone. No one should have to spend over 13 years completely alone in the world never having met another person with whom to have shared their experience with. I can tell you, it's an extremely lonely place to be. You do not have to be alone in this. There are others out there like you. Other Moms, other families, other friends. Most of them just wanting and waiting to know they are not alone as well.

Reach out, talk to me. Connect with the Postpartum Community. We are all around you and someone, so many someone's, want to hear what you have to say. The lonely nights, the dark thoughts, the grief, the unclear thinking; we have been there and some are there now. We do want to talk to you. We do understand and you are not alone. Don't continue to be alone. It does get better, even if it doesn't feel that way now. I survived Postpartum Psychosis and you can also survive a Postpartum Mood Disorder. You are worthy.

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~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~