I am far too neglectful....

But that's okay, right? You still love me, right? RIGHT?!

I think I've blogged about postpartum depression enough, but let me refresh your mind (and it goes with the story, I'm not being redundant for fun).
.....Owen was born in August. Sadly, it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows like I thought it would be. I had such wonderful and amazing expectations for his birth. Obviously, it didn't go as I had played it out in my head for the previous nine months BECAUSE:

1) My husband didn't seem that excited or nervous on the drive to the hospital for the induction. I on the other hand was excited and nervous. I kept thinking is this really happening?. I couldn't wait to see Owen and finally hold him. I remember being shown to my hospital room and seeing the warmer the baby would be put and thinking at the end of all this there will be a baby in there. It was weird, but a good weird.

2) Ten minutes after he was born my mother-in-law and sister-in-law came to see Owen. They hung out for 30 minutes and wanted to go get food. My husband said we'd just call and order out and one of them could go get the food....well, that didn't happen. They are picky eaters and needed to SEE the menu (it was California Pizza Kitchen people, you don't need a menu!) So they go, look at the menu, wait for food and come back, BUT...my mother-in-law forgot her purse and they had to go back. What would have been a quick 15 minute trip took two hours. In the mean time I was left in the delivery room alone with my luggage. Owen went to the nursery to get checked out. He also needed a chest xray after he was born because he was having some retractions after birth (everything turned out okay). During that two hours I thought for sure they stopped to get me flowers and a small gift/card. HA! I was wrong.

3) Owen was born at 6:27PM, right at shift change! My day nurse, whom I adored, left and I was stuck with a grumpy, older nurse that cared more about getting tasks done than her patient. After I had the epidural removed they had to make sure I could pee. My legs were numb so I was getting up a walking of course. So the grumpy RN gave me a bed pan. She also turned the water on in the sink....and then she stood there washing her hands....
I told her there was no way I'd be able to pee on this bed pan with her in the room. So she left, and she didn't turn the water off, and she didn't come back! After about 10 minutes I ended up yelling HELP! and about three nurses (none of which were mine) came running in to see if I was okay. They scolded my nurse for leaving me like that without a call light. I agreed.

4) Grumpy RN wheeled me to the recovery room. I was all alone as the others were gone getting food. My luggage was also left in the birthing room because no one was there to carry it for me, that made me sad. SO, here I am, sitting in the recovery room all alone, no husband...no family...no baby. I was kind of freaked out, I kept thinking "Did this really just happen? Did I really just have a baby?". I looked back at the photos on the camera, and yep, I'd had a baby!

5) They finally get back from getting all the food. The visitors eat their food and leave immediately afterwards. I've seen my sister-in-law once since then, it was Thanksgiving....and she was drunk. She only stopped by to get money from her mother and left after 20 minutes.

6) My husband kept snoring and bitching ALL NIGHT about how uncomfortable the fold out bed was. I didn't sleep more than 45 minutes straight. HIM, UNCOMFORTABLE?! WHAT ABOUT ME?!!!! Fucker.

7) I pushed to get out of the hospital within 24 hours of admission (big mistake, especially with no sleep). The first night home could very well possibly be the most difficult day of my life.

8) Postpartum depression! Lots of fun, let me tell you....feeling no connection to your baby, feeling extreme guilt, hating your husband with a passion and wondering why you are with him, hating everyone and everything, having no hope for the future, thinking the baby will be better off without such an unfit, seemingly emotionally unstable mother....you know, all that fun stuff. I met with my OB, and that was a very awkward appointment let me tell you! I kept having horrible, unwanted thoughts. She gives me Zoloft, tells me to follow up with a psychologist and psychiatrist. I see a psychiatrist in December and she upped my dose and gave me a few refills. I hated her and never went back, but I did use her refills. She seemed not to give a rats ass about my issues, not that I expect her to overly care but she was just so....boring and dry and not right for me. So in January I saw another psychiatrist that I liked, he had a good sense of humor. I was feeling much better on the Zoloft. I was feeling so much better that I decided it would be wonderful to have another baby. It was decided I stop taking Zoloft if I wanted to be pregnant, so I did....and I felt okay, and then a few weeks later the shit hit the fan, all my feelings were back. By this point we have already met with our RE, and I'm already taking Clomid....and by the time I got my BFP (yay!) I was missing Zoloft. In the days following the BFP I kept thinking "WTF have I done?!". Not good feelings to have, and I was not feeling good about having them. I met with my OB, told him how I felt...and that brings us to today where I'm indeed barely pregnant and taking Zoloft. Scandalous!

So, that's the 411 on me.