The 71-hour postpartum meltdown

While still in the hospital, I was near frantic with worry about Phoebe. Nevermind that she's a very sociable kitty and would have been very lonely while we were away, she was sick when I went into labour, and her illness worsened over those few days. By Saturday, Werner had to once again confine her to our ensuite.

Soon after coming home, I went up to our ensuite to see my Phoebecat. I opened the door to find a my cat dirty with diarrhea and every bit as anxious to see me as I was to see her. The bathroom was a mess. She cried and tried to get close to me. I needed to pet her and reassure her, but was also scared about whether her illness could harm Jakob. I felt so guilty that I hadn't been able to help her, that she got so sick and that I couldn't be there to take care of her, to bring her to the vet, to reassure her. I broke down and cried uncontrollably. I just kept crying while apologising to her and feeling all to aware of how I had failed her when she needed me most.

Crashing hormones and fear for my cat's well-being made for one very unhappy newly postpartum woman.