Consequences? What are those?

In my life I have been known for many things, my eyes, my smile, my laugh, getting into and out of trouble easily, my explosive fits, my ability to jump from one unfinished project to the next, being impulsive...I can go on and on. When I was 16, less than a month after my birthday, I attempted suicide. I can't tell you what was going on in my head, I have  no idea to this day what exactly pushed me over the edge. I've always dealt with some depression, anxiety, and a very very poor body image, but I don't remember anything really that could have caused it. Since I was 16 the IWK Grace Childrens Hospital in Halifax referred me to one of their psychiatrists, skip the psychologists, I was apparently too far gone for that. I went to exactly one appointment before I declared to my father I was refusing to go back there. He told the woman who had seen me and she proceeded to tell him I had some major problems. Well yea, thats kind of obvious based on the reason I was there. She encouraged him to bring me back, but my poor father was trying to decided if he wanted to forced his suicidal daughter to do something she clearly didn't want to do. I'm pretty sure he was scared that if he forced me back there I'd do worse to myself. I never went back.
Fastforward to 2009 when my son was born. I was terrified of having post-partum depression. I had read if you had depression (which is what we all assumed I had since I was a teenager) you were at a greater risk of getting PPD. I was pretty sure I had dodged a bullet there, but looking back I'm not so sure. I remember crying a lot, but I don't remember having problems bonding with Olivier, of feeling like I was a failure. In fact I loved it, taking care of him gave me a pourpose. Something I never felt before. But after a while my usual self came back. I had my depression bouts, followed by times where I felt normal, or excited or full of energy. Then followed by bouts of irrationality, compulsive behavior etc etc.
Last year I finally found a family doctor. I was so excited because I hadn't been feeling well for a while, always tired, not feeling well, moody (insanely moody). I was loosing my hair, all kinds of weird  things. I went for a round of blood tests, everything came back normal. My doctor (who had been Olivier's doctor since he was born so I was already very comfortable with her) decided to try something new. She thought that my hair loss was something different from my other symptoms, which she felt was major depression and general anxiety disorder. I technically knew this already, I had been dealing with it on my own for years, but having a diagnosis pronounced for the first time was a bit jarring. I was put on a low dose of Paxil CR to see if it would help. After 2 weeks on the medication I was talking to my best friend Dylan, who also has several mental health problems like myself, which I think is why we are able to not judge each other and are always there for each other. I didn't think my dose was high enough, I didn't notice any change. He told me to wait a few more days, sometimes it takes a little bit to first get into your system. Well he was right, the following weekend it started affecting me. But not the way Paxil will affect someone with depression. I was beyond irrational, refusing to eat, refusing to get dressed, pretty much refusing my life and the things keeping me alive. Obviously this is not a normal reaction and it terrified Jonathan and Dylan. The following week was pretty much the same, I wouldn't eat, although I forced down a bowl of cereal a night to get Olivier to eat his supper, and my friend Mari would force me to have at least a smoothie at work. After that week I had an appointment with my doctor. Major depression was taken off the table instantly. Bipolar Disorder was put on the table based on my reaction to the antidepressants. Antidepressants don't work well with bipolar people, it makes them crazier than they are, and refusing to eat was a crazy reaction for me.
After I left the doctors office that day I, like I usually do, obsessed over my diagnosis, looking at web sites all day long while at work, trying to find myself in these symptoms. And boy did I ever. Looking back I can see all my symptoms from when I was young, in my pre-teen years.
I started taking Seroquel which honestly didn't help do much except helped me gain weight. My dose was adjusted a few times, and finally when Jonathan and I started to try for another baby I stopped it because it was unknown the effect on a fetus. At the same time I was on Cipralex to help with my anxiety since Seroquel has no effect on it. Cipralex is an antidepressant with mixed with the Seroquel I should have been ok. And I was. I stayed on the Cipralex since it was such a small dose (was smaller than the Paxil) after I stopped the Seroquel. That dose was adjusted as well, but I didn't feel as crazy (thanks to Trazadone to help me sleep. Sleep is a good way to help control my bipolar, although I still cycle, its way less often than before). The day I got my positive pregnancy test and was bleeding I stopped every single medication I was on (both for the bipolar and the herniated disc in my back). That was two weeks ago (not even really, more like a week and a half) and I can already feel my old habits coming back. I don't want to take the chance that my medications caused my miscarriage, 1.7% is too high of a chance for me now to take. On my meds I stop and think about the consequences of my actions. Off my meds, I don't care what the consequences are, I just do what I want. I think about all the things I would do off my meds and the fun I had and how I could escape, even though it would cause so much problems in my relationship, and once I was medicated I couldn't believe some of the thigns I did, and now that I've stopped my meds, part of me doesn't care again. If given the opportunity I would probablly jump up and do them agian.
Ever since I was diagnosed I have always had this little birdie in my ear asking, If I had only gone back to see the stupid shrink, where would I be today? Would I have gone through all the mess I have gone through, or would my life have been easier?