As Long As You Love Me

Riding It Out

"You have postpartum depression, Y/N," Dr. Fisher told you after Joe had finally coaxed you to go see her. (It took about two weeks.) You'd left the girls with Joe's mother and he'd come with you. "I do not," you retorted. "Y/N," Joe started but was immediately silenced by a stern look from your doctor. 

"Do you ever have bad thoughts? Like, awful? Something you wouldn't dare repeat most days. About the girls?" she asked. You shook your head but she knew you were lying. "Tell me about them," she said.

"S-sometimes I want—" You looked at Joe, too mortified to continue. "Go on, Y/N," Dr. Fisher said gently. "This is a safe space." "Sometimes when they're crying I have this overwhelming urge to throw all of them one by one off the roof," you whispered, wiping your tear-stained cheeks.

"You want to what?!" Joe spluttered. "Joe, must I ask you again to be quiet?" Dr. Fisher warned. Joe sat back into the love seat and reached out to hold your hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly over the back of it.

"What you're feeling is completely normal behavior when dealing with postpartum depression, Y/N," the doctor told you. "What you need to do is accept it as a reality and deal with it in the correct way. There's nothing to be embarrassed about unless you do nothing about it. And this isn't something that can just be talked away. You need to get some professional help."

You left the doctor's office feeling better now that you'd been able to talk about what you were going through. On the walk back to your apartment you and Joe talked about your options and looked over the pamphlets Dr. Fisher gave you. You decided to go to counseling and see about getting some antidepressants. Joe told you he'd be behind you every step of the way. You kept thinking you didn't know what you'd done to deserve him.

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Four years later, you awoke in the early morning in the home you and Joe had bought in Jersey City, just across the bridge from Manhattan. It was the girls' birthday today and you were celebrating by making princess pancakes for breakfast, followed by a trip to the mall to get them fitted for their princess dresses. They didn't know it but you and Joe were taking them to Disney World the following week and you had to send their measurements in before they could get the ultimate princess makeover.

You smiled at the thought of having Cinderella, Jasmine, and Merida running around the park all day, no doubt tiring you and Joe completely out. Like clockwork, at 6:45, the wave of nausea that had been hitting you every morning for the past week had arrived. You got out of bed and made it just in time to the toilet just off the hallway near the girls' rooms.

"Momma?" a small voice said from behind you. Olivia was behind you, rubbing your back with one of her small hands, and holding Señor Queso, her stuffed jalapeño pepper doll, in the other. "Are you sick again?" You wiped your mouth with some toilet paper and flushed it down before turning to her with a sleepy smile.

"I'm okay, Livvie," you told her, pulling her into your lap. "Why are you awake so early, baby?" you asked her, gently combing through her Y/H/C hair with your fingers. "I heard you running to the bathroom," she said, snuggling into your chest. You kissed her on top of her head. "I'm sorry I woke you up, sweetheart," you told her. "Do you want to go back to bed with Isla and Elijah or do you want to help me make some princess pancakes?" you asked her.

"Princess pancakes!" she squealed, clapping her hands. "Okay, let's go downstairs really quietly and get started, okay?" The two of you made your way downstairs and you began getting the ingredients for the pancakes out while Olivia and Señor Queso shared a stool at the bar, watching you. "Okay, what colors are we using today?" you asked her. "Umm," she said. "Purple! And green! And — yellow?"

You nodded enthusiastically and got the corresponding food coloring bottles down from the cabinet near the sink. "Did I hear someone making princess pancakes?" came Joe's sleepy voice from the stairs. "Daddy!" Olivia exclaimed, toppling off her stool to run to him. 

"Hi, princess!" Joe said, catching her when she jumped. He kissed her hair and put her back down and followed her into the kitchen. He walked over to you and put his arms around your waist, embracing you from behind. You turned to kiss him but then remembered you hadn't brushed your teeth since you'd thrown up and you slightly backed away.

Joe's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he said, "Why can't I kiss you?" You hadn't mentioned the morning sickness to him yet so you weren't sure what to say, but little Olivia took care of that for you. "Momma was sick this morning," she said, looking at Joe with wide eyes. "She was?" Joe asked your daughter, who nodded vigorously.

"She was sick in the toilet," she continued. You were busying yourself with setting up the griddle and trying to avoid this conversation altogether. "She's been sick every morning after we sleep for — six sleeps," Olivia said, pausing to count on her fingers. Crap, you thought. "Thanks, Livvie," you said through a tight-lipped smile. "Why don't you and Señor Queso go into the living room and color? Momma and Daddy have to talk right now." Once Olivia was gone, Joe rounded on you.

"Are you—?" "Probably," you stated, smiling shyly. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked. "I don't know, Joe," you said, turning back to the pancake mix. You dropped two dots of green food coloring in and watched as it swirled around, coloring the drab mix. "Y/N," Joe said. "Are you okay?" You stopped whisking and turned back to your husband.

"I'm not as excited this time," you whispered. Joe's smile vanished and was replaced with a frown of concern. "Postpartum depression was really hard, Joe," you said, tears cascading down your cheeks. "Babe," Joe said, crossing the kitchen to hold you. "You got through it once," he said. "I know you can do it again. But only if you want to. I'll support you in whatever decision you make." He kissed your forehead and you sniffled. Just then you heard two sets of small footsteps thundering down the stairs. Isla and Elijah raced into the kitchen, their eyes bright, and a smile plastered to each of their faces.

"Princess pancakes!" they said in unison when they saw the food coloring. You sniffled and laughed, wiping your eyes. "Momma?" Elijah asked, walking over to you. Her little face was etched with worry. "Are you sad?" "No, baby, I'm okay," you told her. "Are you sure?" Isla asked, joining the three of you and rubbing your forearm. You patted her shoulder and pulled them both in for a hug. Olivia came back into the kitchen just then and joined in as well.

You decided to sit on the floor on their level so it was easier to talk to them, and Joe did too. You pulled the three of them into your lap and hugged them all. "What do you three think of being big sisters?" you asked them. "I'm already a big sister," Elijah said. "I was born first, wasn't I Daddy?" she asked Joe, batting her eyelashes. Joe laughed and said, "You were, baby, yes. But what Momma means is the three of you being big sisters to a little baby."

"Where are we getting a little baby?" Isla asked, clearly confused. "Well," Joe said, trying to explain it the best way he knew how in as delicate a situation as this. As you listened to him field all the questions your curious little girls had for him, you couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. I can do this again, you thought. I did it the first time and I married this man on our first date, for crying out loud. This is nothing, you told yourself. 

When the girls seemed bored with what Joe was telling them, they all ran into the living room to color while you finished the princess pancakes. You spared a moment to kiss your husband deeply, locking your arms around his neck.

"I can do this, Joe," you told him. "I want to do this." He grinned with you and the two of you set to work finishing up the pancakes for your three princesses. After listening to Joe with your girls and his strong reassurance that you could, in fact, do this again, you were more sure of it than anything you'd ever been sure of before. You knew that for your family you could, and would, do anything.