Chapter 17
Farrah
The front door closed, steady footsteps making their way into the living room, or my new home, if you will.
For the last four or five months—at this point, I had lost track of time—I’d spent my days sleeping, eating, and existing in said living room.
"Hey." Jake leaned down to kiss my cheek and then Hadley's as I cradled her in my arms. He studied our daughter for a moment.
"Have you guys left the house at all today? " Judgment and disdain laced his words.
I sighed. Jake came home from work and asked me this question every day. You would think by now he would know my answer was also the same. "No." I didn't have the energy for the argument that usually ensued.
Surprisingly, Jake just nodded and left for the kitchen.
I sighed in relief as I glanced down at my baby girl.
Hadley was almost five months old, and was complete perfection with her soft blonde locks.
She was a relatively easy baby, as far as newborns went, making it impossible for me to understand why I wasn't happier.
I should have been elated, overjoyed, basking in newfound motherhood and this precious gift I held in my arms.
Instead, I didn't leave the house, I barely left my living room, and I didn't remember the last time I’d smiled. Instead of smiling, I cried.
Literally, every. Single. Day.
I didn't know what was wrong with me; I wasn't usually this emotional a person.
I loved my daughter deeply, but I was miserable.
How could I be so unhappy when there were women out there who struggled to have children of their own, and some who would never end up realizing their dream of having a child?
That guilt would then throw me back into a deep, dark hole of self-loathing.
And the kicker?
At the same time, I was fiercely protective of Hadley.
I had this all-consuming, overwhelming, illogical anxiety when it came to her.
I barely slept, having to check on her throughout the night to ensure she was okay.
I moved us into the living room so I wouldn't disturb Jake.
My parents, his parents, and my siblings all offered to watch Hadley on numerous occasions.
They tried to force me to go out with friends, get my hair done, or have a spa day so I could have a break, but I refused.
They stopped trying when every time they pressed the issue, they were met with a full-on breakdown by yours truly.
I could see the concern written all over my mom's face whenever she came over, but I chose to ignore it.
It would all pass, and I'd be fine soon.
At least I was still showering.
This was all normal behavior and emotions for a new mom, right? My hormones were probably still wild.
I traced down the bridge of Hadley's button nose with my fingertips as I fed her.
When she finished, she was almost completely asleep.
I quickly burped her, swaddled her, and placed her into her bassinet that was tucked into the corner of the living room.
After I turned her sound machine on, I placed a soft kiss to her delicate forehead and made my way to the kitchen.
Jake was pulling out the chicken and broccoli casserole I had in the oven, and placed it on the stove.
I grabbed two plates from the cabinet and served each of us a portion.
I grabbed the baby monitor before joining Jake at the table to eat.
Jake's eyes flicked towards the monitor I was watching like it was the latest Netflix series. "Farrah. Do you really need to watch the monitor right now? She's in the other room; she’ll be fine for the ten minutes it takes us to eat dinner."
I clenched my jaw, grinding the back of my molars.
I hated it when he did this.
He never tried to understand how I felt, he was always dismissive.
Ignoring him, I began to eat while watching the monitor.
What if she rolled over and got stuck with her face against the mattress and couldn't breathe?
What if she got her arm out of her swaddle and it got caught on something?
The constant what-ifs were the thoughts that had occupied every inch of space in my brain since Hadley was born.
What if something happens to Jake? What if something happens to me?
I couldn't risk it. So, I stayed home, where I had some semblance of control.
This was just that protective instinct every mother had, right?
Jake cleared his throat to get my attention. "I think she's old enough to move her into her crib in her room now. Then you can move back into our bedroom." He made the comment so easily, like it hadn’t just thrown my brain into overdrive at everything that could possibly go wrong in that scenario.
I shook my head. "No, she's not ready. She's still too little. It's fine, we're good in the living room. Just a few more months."
Jake sighed heavily. "Farrah. This is ridiculous, you're being ridiculous and overbearing. There are several guys I work with who have kids, and they said their kids were in their own rooms between four and six months old. We haven't slept in the same bed in almost five months; that isn't normal."
"Well, good for them, but Hadley isn't ready." Ignoring that my husband had just called me ridiculous, I dropped my eyes back to the monitor, watching as Hadley shifted around in the bassinet. Once she was settled and back asleep, the tension in my shoulders eased slightly.
"Look. I can't keep doing this, Farrah. I think you need to go talk to someone, either your doctor or a therapist. Everyone I talk to makes it pretty apparent that this isn't normal.
" He gestured at me with his fork and then down to the monitor.
"I know this has been a lot for you, and I’ve tried to be patient with you becoming a new mom, but I think we are past the point of this being okay.
" His eyes softened slightly. "You can't possibly be happy, right?
You don't seem happy. I think some separation will do you some good. "
I scoffed. "Seriously? Did you call me ridiculous, not normal, and unhappy all in the same breath?
I'm also going to ignore the fact that you’re talking about me behind my back like I have a problem.
" Deep down, I knew he had a point. I didn't feel normal, and I definitely wasn't happy, but I wasn't about to admit that.
I wasn't going to, couldn't, give up control. I needed it to ease the anxiety that tried to rip its way through my chest every single day.
Jake stood from the table, took his plate to the sink, and washed it. "If you don't talk to someone, I'm going to have to think about what that means for us and where we go from here."
He walked out of the kitchen, leaving me alone with the monitor and his ultimatum.
I didn't go see a therapist because of Jake's ultimatum. I went because I was drowning. I didn't recognize the person I had become. I always imagined motherhood to be scary, yes, but also full of warmth and joy. Instead, motherhood had become a cold, lonely cave—one I couldn't seem to escape.
A few weeks after Jake threw his ultimatum at me, I was taking a shower while Hadley was napping.
At some point during the shower, the monitor must have died, because when I stepped out and clicked the button to wake up the screen, it remained black.
An overwhelming sense of dread and panic clawed its way up my throat, my heartbeat pounded in my ears as I ran into the living room, sopping wet, without a towel.
Self-deprecating thoughts littered my mind—How could I be so careless?
Why didn't I check the battery before getting into the shower?
What if she isn't breathing or has been crying for me? How could I be so stupid?
By the time I made it to Hadley's side, I was sobbing.
Yup, crying and naked, standing over my daughter as she slept peacefully, without a care in the world.
I knew in that moment, this was in fact not a normal reaction to have, and I needed help.
After seeing Dr. Hill for several weeks, and with the help of a low dosage of anti-anxiety medication, I slowly began to feel like myself again.
It felt like the clouds were parting and the sun was finally shining its warmth over me.
I moved Hadley into her own room and began sleeping in my room again.
I still had my overprotective, irrational moments, but they were much fewer and farther between.
I also began to finally get out of the house with Hadley—I took her to the park and to my parents' house.
I still wasn't quite ready to leave her and let anyone babysit her, but Dr. Hill said that postpartum anxiety wasn't something that could be magically fixed overnight; it could take months.
Things with Jake were improving somewhat now that I was feeling better, but there was still this underlying tension between us.
It was palpable. We hadn't had sex since before Hadley was born and even after I’d moved back into the bedroom, that hadn't changed.
I didn't know if too much damage had already been done after Hadley was born, or what the issue was, but the lack of connection and interest was mutual. We started to become more like roommates, and our conversations focused solely around our daughter. Jake was a great dad, but I resented him for the way he’d handled me when I was unknowingly suffering from PPA.
I knew he resented me for how the last six months had played out, but I wasn't an idiot; there was always this underlying anger for everything that had happened between Walker and me three years ago.
Jake was also convinced Walker had bought that house in Primrose Hill for me, claiming the timing of it all was too coincidental.
I thought he was being ridiculous and paranoid.
All of that to say, I wasn't surprised when he came home from work one night with a folder containing divorce papers. Nope—the surprising part, however, was my lack of tears and fight to save the marriage. No drama, no tears, no arguing. I simply signed the papers and handed them over.
Our marriage was done.