Chapter 18
Dr. Vale’s office was nothing like Janie had imagined.
Instead of the sterile clinical space she’d braced herself for, it was warm, with soft lighting, comfortable chairs, and a small fountain burbling peacefully in the corner.
Still, Janie had clenched her hands so tight in her lap as they talked about her situation that her knuckles had gone white.
But hearing an actual doctor lay out aspects of postpartum depression so logically made it all seem so much more acceptable, and Janie clutched at her chest as the reality of what Dr. Vale was saying began to kick in.
The relief crashed over her with such power that she couldn’t control her reaction, and her resulting tears poured out.
Dr. Vale passed her the tissue box without comment, letting Janie cry it out. She tried to compose herself quickly. Sobbing in front of strangers had never been something she’d allowed herself to do. Her mother had drilled into her what weakness that was.
“The good news,” Dr. Vale said, “is that PPD is highly treatable. A combination of therapy, which you’re already doing with Rae, and medication can make a substantial difference.
I’m going to prescribe you an SSRI, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor.
It’ll take a while to reach full effectiveness, but many patients start noticing improvements within the first fourteen days. ”
“What if it doesn’t work?” Janie twisted the wet tissue in her hands. “What if I’m still like this?”
“Then we try a different medication, or adjust the dosage, or add additional support. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all situation, and we’ll work together to find what helps you.
” Dr. Vale clasped her hands together. “But Janie, I want you to understand something important: seeking treatment doesn’t make you weak or unfit.
It makes you a responsible parent who recognized she was struggling and took steps to get help. That’s exactly what good mothers do.”
Janie wanted to believe her. God, she wanted to believe her so badly.
They spent the final few minutes of the appointment talking about potential side effects, what to watch for, and how to take the meds.
Janie had noticed Hannah had emptied their liquor cabinet, but now it looked like the wine would have to go too.
Dr. Vale gave Janie her direct number and told her to call if she had any concerns.
Janie left the office, daring to believe she’d taken the first step toward accepting the diagnosis.
She had a medical condition not a character flaw, and it was a condition that could be treated if she took the pills.
She sat in her car in the parking lot for several minutes, staring at the prescription.
The pharmacy was right across the street.
She could fill it now and start taking it tonight, but first, she wanted to talk to someone who’d helped get her this far.
She drove to the café that had become her refuge and parked in her usual spot.
When she entered, Maria took one look at her and nodded toward the corner. “Your table is waiting,” she said. “I’ll bring coffee.”
Janie sank into the familiar chair and waited. Maria returned a few minutes later with two coffees and a plate of conchas. She took a quick nibble, and the sweet bread was comfort in edible form.
“So,” Maria said, settling across from her. “Tell me.”
Janie took a long sip of the coffee that tasted a hundred times better than the java at any other café, and then she told Maria about everything that had happened since they’d last talked.
Saying her diagnosis out loud made it feel a little more real.
“It’s good that it makes sense of everything I’ve been feeling, but it’s terrifying too. ”
“How so?”
“I’m scared that the meds won’t work, and that I’m too broken to come back from this.”
Maria covered Janie’s hand with her own. “You are not broken, mija.”
“Did you suspect it could be PPD?”
“I’ve lived long enough to recognize when someone’s guilt is bigger than what actually happened, but that can have many names.
Your shame has teeth that don’t want to let go.
” Maria squeezed Janie’s hand and then returned to her coffee.
“A friend of mine went through something similar years ago. She had twins, and about a year after they were born, she started having these intrusive and terrible thoughts about something happening to her babies, about being a terrible mother. She hid it for months because she was ashamed, and because, like you, she thought it meant she was broken.”
Janie bit her bottom lip. Of course she wasn’t the first mom to feel this way. Hearing about someone else’s awful experience shouldn’t make her feel better, and yet, it kind of did. “What happened?”
“Finally, her husband saw there was something wrong, and he made her see a doctor. She was diagnosed with PPD, just like you.” Maria smiled.
“The medication changed her life. She told me that it was like someone had turned down the volume on all the terrible voices in her head. She could finally hear herself think again, and she could be present with her children without the constant intrusion of guilt and fear.”
Janie had so many questions, and Maria always seemed to have the answers or an anecdote, at least. But this time, Janie wasn’t sure she was ready to hear those answers.
She took a deep breath and thought about her family, recalled the hope in Hannah’s eyes when they planned to have dinner together that night.
She had to be strong. She owed Hannah and the girls that. “Did it change her? The medication?”
“It made her more herself, not less. That’s what good treatment does. It doesn’t change who you are. It just removes the illness that’s been dragging you down.”
Janie picked at the concha on her plate. “I’m scared. What if I take it and I’m still like this? What if it proves that this is just who I am now?”
“And what if it works?” Maria asked gently. “What if, in a few weeks, you look at your daughters and feel joy instead of guilt? What if you can be present with Hannah without the constant voice telling you that you don’t deserve her? What if you get yourself back?”
The possibilities sounded too enormous to hope for. “When I told Hannah everything, she didn’t judge me, just like you said she wouldn’t. She shared her own close calls with the girls. She said every parent makes mistakes.”
Maria’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “And how did that feel? Having your shame met with compassion?”
“Like I could breathe for the first time in months.” Janie’s heart ached at the empathy in Maria’s gaze. Their connection had been so instant. Where would she have ended up if Maria hadn’t jumped into her car that fateful Sunday? Her own tears were warm behind her eyes.
“That’s what love does. It says you’re human. You’re worthy. You’re not alone.” Maria squeezed Janie’s hand. “This is the start of your healing, mija. It is not the end of who you are, but the beginning of finding yourself again.”
Janie blinked and released her hot tears. “I want to bring Hannah here to meet you. You’ve been such a huge part of my life this past couple of weeks, and I want her to know you and to understand what you’ve done for me.”
Maria smiled widely. “I would love that. Bring her anytime.”
“We have our first official date on Saturday,” Janie said. “I’m going to suggest that we explore this neighborhood. We could end up here, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is. I’ll keep your favorite table ready.” Maria’s expression turned more serious. “And Janie? I’m proud of you for being brave enough to get help and for trusting Hannah with your truth. Facing your demons and embarking on a healing journey takes real courage.”
Janie wanted to argue that it was desperation, not courage, that had gotten her this far. But maybe that was the depression talking. Maybe Maria was right, since she usually was, and choosing to get help was the bravest thing of all.
After they’d talked some more about everyday things instead of their usual serious stuff, Janie caught sight of the time.
“I’m sorry, I have to go.” She grinned, feeling a little lighter than she had when she’d first sat down with Maria.
“I’m going home to do our therapy homework.
” Home. Where her heart and her family were. It sounded good to her ears.
After she’d gotten up, Maria pulled her into a hug. “Remember, you’re not alone in this anymore. You have Hannah, and Rae, and your medication.” She gently cupped Janie’s cheek. “And you have me. We’re all here, ready to help you carry what is too heavy to carry alone.”
Janie sank into Maria’s embrace and let herself be held, let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she was going to be okay.
After a few hours at the office, where she’d been slightly more focused, Janie went to the apartment to change and then drove to the house.
The box of pills she’d picked up on the way to work sat in the center console, both foreboding and tempting.
But she’d decided to take the first one tonight with Hannah, thinking of it as a symbol of her commitment to their family, and she wanted to share the moment.
She drew up alongside their house and cut the engine.
Everything looked so normal from the outside.
It was impossible to tell that she’d almost torn the foundations of their family down.
Had any of their neighbors even noticed her absence?
Were they judging them? Janie pressed her palms together, closed her eyes, and took a few long, deep breaths.
This wasn’t the energy she wanted to take inside.
She wanted normality, to help with the girls, eat together, soak in some of the comfortable domesticity she’d been missing out on while she’d…
Janie stopped herself again and exhaled loudly, focusing hard on releasing the negative energy. This evening was about moving forward.