Chapter Forty-Seven
ISOBEL
Boston
Leila kicked me out of her apartment bright and early, with a coffee mug in my hand and a donut in the other. She had to get to work, and it was time I dealt with things I’d been avoiding as the stress of my life threatened to pull me under.
My breasts ached as I waited for my Uber to arrive, and I was thankful that my apartment was a quick ride away. Sitting down to pump once I got home, I turned my phone back on, my lips quivering as I pulled open the text messages. Adrian was worried, but I wasn’t sure how to face him.
By the time I was done, I checked my phone again, noticing I had two new voicemails. Bracing myself, I pressed the play button on the first one.
“Is, please call me. I’m worried that I didn’t hear from you last night, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m not mad, babe, I’m just concerned. Please don’t push me away. I know things are hard right now, but we’re going to get through this.”
I sniffed as I pushed the play button on the second one, trying not to cry again. I hated I was doing this to them.
“Is, you need to talk to me. I don’t want to leave things like this. Please let me know if you’re okay. I’ll give you space if you need it, but please don’t push me away. I’m taking Fin with me into the office today, and I’ll bring her back to my place tonight. Love you.”
The pain in his voice killed me and it had me doing something I was scared—so damn scared—to do when it’d come up at my appointment weeks ago.
Digging through the trash can in my bathroom, I pulled out the business card I’d buried in there. Sitting on the closed toilet seat, my heart thrummed in my temples as I tried to gather the courage to type in the numbers printed.
When the phone connected, I swallowed down the panic and took a step forward instead of letting myself get sucked down by the past.
“Women’s health and wellness. How may I direct your call?”
My throat was dry, but my voice came out stronger than I felt.
“Hi, my name is Isobel Blom. I need to make an appointment to see a therapist. My OB referred me to your clinic. She was worried I may have postpartum depression, and I think I’m ready to talk to someone.”
I was able to get a last-minute appointment, thanks to a cancellation, on Friday for an initial assessment of my depression. I hadn’t expected things to move so quickly, but I couldn’t avoid this more than I already had. Living in denial was going to not only make me miserable, but it’d also make my family suffer.
My new psychiatrist, Dr. Stefano—who insisted I call him Garrett—was not what I’d expected, but he’d been ready to jump into things. He’d had me fill out a few assessments at the beginning of my appointment and then had made me tell him—in as much detail as I’d felt comfortable with—why I was coming to see him.
His calming demeanor had made it easier for me to divulge my fears, and I left my session on Friday, hopeful for the first time in months. After my appointment, I was anxious to tell Adrian that I’d finally talked to someone about how I’d been feeling, but I still needed a bit of time to process things on my own.
I had another appointment scheduled for next Friday to discuss possible medication options. Garrett also recommended getting a genetic test done to explore the best medication options for my body, so I’d spent half the morning waiting at the lab to have a cheek swab done.
I’d spent the evening and the next morning throwing myself into things I’d been avoiding, attempting to pack up the disaster that was my apartment.
Talking to Adrian on Saturday, I’d been ready to tell him I’d finally made a step toward coping with my life in a healthier way, but after he’d dropped the bomb of Pops in the hospital, I knew he was dealing with enough. I wanted to catch an Uber to be with them, but I knew he’d be upset if I put things on hold at work to do it.
As the wheels of the plane touched down in New York, my phone chimed from my pocket, so I pulled it out.
Adrian: Please travel safely. Call me if you’re up for talking. I just want to hear your voice.
I wanted to hear his voice too, but I was afraid of what he’d want to say to me. This weekend was the longest I’d spent away from either of them in months, and I hated I was the reason I wouldn’t see them for another few days. It felt like an eternity to spend away from the two people who I loved the most.
“Everything okay?” Sloane asked as I frowned at my phone, but I didn’t want to unload on her and have her doubt my ability to close this deal. She was counting on me to have my shit together, and I was determined to pretend I did until we had a signature on the contract in my bag.
“Yeah, it will be. Is there anything you need me to take care of before the meeting?”
She smiled, laying her hand on mine. “No, I know she’ll be more comfortable with you here, so I want you to be well-rested for tomorrow. Go lay down or take a bath when we get to the hotel. Enjoy the quiet I know you’re not getting at home right now.”
She had no idea how right she was. My life was a total clusterfuck.
When I woke up to my phone alarm echoing in my too-quiet hotel room, I still had a few hours until I had to be ready for the meeting with my author, Nikki, and Sloane. It would have been the perfect time to get some rest, but a phone call interrupted it.
“Hi, is this Isobel Blom?”
“This is she,” I answered absently, not entirely sure who was calling me. It was a Boston number, but it wasn’t saved in my phone.
“Dr. Stefano had a last-minute cancellation for an appointment starting at 9:00. He wanted me to check to see if you’d be up for an additional session since you’re a new patient.”
Hesitating, I took a deep breath. Friday had been draining, but I felt good after unloading some of the things I’d been keeping inside.
“I’m out of town right now, but is he able to do a telehealth call?”
After we hung up with plans for me to log into the online portal, a few tears leaked out as I tried to fight off how overwhelmed I still felt. But I could do this. I would do this, because my daughter deserved more than a mother who was a broken shell of herself. I loved her too much to let this get any worse.
“How’s your Monday going, Isobel?” Garrett asked, smiling at me through my computer monitor. “Were you able to get some sleep this weekend? I know you mentioned your daughter isn’t a fan of sleeping last session.”
Would he judge me if he knew I hadn’t seen my daughter since then? I suddenly felt like even more of a terrible parent.
“I can tell by your expression that the question isn’t one you want to answer. Remember, I’m here to help you talk through your issues, not judge you.”
Easy enough for him to say. I was judging myself enough for everyone.
“I...” I hesitated to continue. “She was with her father the whole weekend while I stayed at my apartment.”
“Are you still involved with her father? I thought you were in a romantic relationship with him.”
“Yes, I am…we are. At least I hope so. Things have been hectic with me transitioning back to work, and he had a family emergency over the weekend. Now I’m in New York on a work trip. I won’t see them again until late tonight. At this rate, probably tomorrow.”
He tilted his head to the side, and I tried not to feel like I was under a microscope, but as his dark brown eyes assessed me, it was difficult not to squirm. “And you feel guilty because your professional obligations took your attention away from your daughter?”
Was I that easy to read?
“Pretty much. I shouldn’t have dumped her on him, especially when he was dealing with his grandfather.”
“Did he ask you to take your daughter while he dealt with his family situation?”
“No.” I shook my head. I’d offered, but he told me to focus on myself. “He told me he was alright with me taking this trip. ”
“And you don’t believe him?”
“Shouldn’t I have dropped everything to go to them?”
“Let’s reframe that. Would you have changed your plans if he asked you to?”
There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that I would. “Of course.”
“Then you need to trust your partner enough to communicate his needs with you. Is that something you feel comfortable doing with him? Have you shared your fears with him?”
“Which ones?” I joked, wiping my sweaty palms on my thighs. “You’re going to have to be more specific. What aren’t I afraid of lately?”
“Have you talked with him about any of your fears?”
Had I? He’d been comforting me for months, trying to take things off my plate to help me get through, but had I actually opened my mouth and talked to him? My eyes burned as I realized that while he tried to talk to me, I had internalized everything I was afraid of because if I voiced them, he might not love me anymore.
“No.” My voice shook, and I tried to keep myself from crying.
“And that is upsetting to you?”
“Shouldn’t it be?” I sniffed. “I feel like a terrible partner on top of a terrible parent. Maybe they both would be better off without me.”
“Do you really believe that?”
I took a deep breath and tried not to let the tears overwhelm me.
“It’d make their life a lot easier if I had my shit together. He said he wanted to marry me, but when he brought it up, I panicked.”
“Do you not want to marry him?”
“I do, but I’m scared. My first marriage didn’t end well. He left me with some deep scars and I’m afraid of history repeating itself. With how spectacularly I’m failing at everything right now, I wouldn’t want to marry me. ”
“Shouldn’t that be something you let him decide?”
Was it really that easy? Adrian knew I was a disaster right now, and he hadn’t run screaming yet.
“It sounds like instead of trying to let him help you with your problems, you’re hiding them because you’re afraid they’ll push him away. Maybe if you both leaned on each other for support, it’d bring you closer instead of driving you apart.”
“Instead, I ran away,” I muttered, staring over the top of my laptop at the empty hotel room.
“Taking care of work obligations isn’t running away, but if you continue to keep internalizing everything, then yes, emotionally you might be. Maybe it’s time for you to run toward the people who matter to you, not away. Let them help you.”
Garrett talked me through some coping strategies, such as journaling and writing my feelings down to share with Adrian if talking was too hard. I still had a lot of work ahead of me, but for once, it felt like I might be able to see a way through.
“We’re often our worst critics, so you need to give yourself some grace as you navigate this new part of your life. Babies—and parenting in general—are hard, but as long as you keep trying to do your best, that’s not failing. Same with relationships. Let your partner in, even if it’s hard.”
“I can try.” I needed to try something because what I’d been doing wasn’t working for anyone.
“Safe travels on your trip. Try to be kinder to yourself this week. Most people are so worried about their own struggles that they aren’t going to judge you for yours. Feeling afraid and guilty won’t help you move forward in life, so looking back constantly isn’t where you need to be focusing your thoughts and actions. We can only move forward.”
I let his words sink in long after we’d ended the call.