Page 45 of Breathe Me: Smith & Belle

“There’s not going to be a test,” he said gently. “You can be honest with me, Ms. Price.”

“It’s just more than I expected,” I said, managing to keep my voice from cracking. “The transition, I mean. The sleep. The crying.”

“Your crying or the baby’s crying?” he asked.

“Both,” I said without thinking.

“You are absolutely correct that there is a period of transition for most mothers. How they respond to the hormonal changes is different for every woman. The severity of your depression doesn’t reflect on your abilities as a mother.

“I have no reason to be depressed,” I confessed. I’d have this argument with myself in the mirror this morning. “I’m sure if I give it time—”

“Let me be clear,” he cut me off. “There is nothing wrong with having postpartum depression. Often, a woman feels it makes them a bad mother if they admit it. Over the last 40 years, I’ve heard women tell me all sorts of things that they thought following the birth of their baby. Some of them said they thought they were going crazy. Some of them were surprised they didn’t like being a mother more. Some of them felt like their life was spiraling out of control. It affects everyone differently. But there’s a lot of things we can do to help you feel better.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but found all of my arguments draining from me. Why had I come here if I was just going to argue with him? To make Smith happy? I’d gotten myself here. Why couldn’t that be enough? When I finally found my words again, they surprised even me. “Why don’t I want to be happy?”

“You do. It just feels impossible, so you try not to think about it,” he said in a soft voice. “And when you try not to think about it, you can’t find the energy to do anything about it, and then you just get used to it and you wonder if it’s always been like this. Does anything I say feel familiar?”

I nodded. It wasn’t exactly how I felt, but it was bloody close. “I just thought this was what it felt like to be a mum.”

“I don’t want to alarm you, but that’s not a natural reaction,” he said. “I think that there are a couple of things we can do to help you get through this. First of all, I’d like you to take a little quiet time for yourself every day. Walk around the village.”

“We live in the country. We just bought Thornham.”

His head tilted ever so subtly, and I found myself thinking about Tomas’s reaction to me telling him the same thing. Maybe everyone in town knew Thornham. Maybe they gossiped about the rich Londoners who lived there. I could only imagine what people said about us. I could only imagine how much worse it would be when they found out that I was practically in the loony bin.

“Thornton has lovely grounds,” he continued casually, making me wonder if I’d imagined it entirely. “Take a walk down to the pond.”

“I didn’t even know there was a pond. You must know Thornham better than I do,” I said, doing my best to have a normal social interaction. He thought I could solve this all by taking a walk. He had more faith than I did.

“I recall when the Thorns still lived on the property, but that was decades ago,” he said. “It must’ve been some work to get the house into shape.”

“We barely finished before the baby came,” I admitted.

“It sounds like you’ve had a stressful year,” he said. “A new baby, a new house—it would be enough to make anyone anxious. That’s why I would also like to prescribe antidepressants to you.”

I fought the urge to tell him no. Instead, I opted for voicing a more reasonable concern. “Is it safe for me to take them? I’m still nursing.”

“I think you would do better to ask if it is safe for the baby for you not to take them.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Instead, I swallowed again, hoping not to burst into tears in front of the doctor a second time.

“How are you sleeping?”

“How am I supposed to be sleeping?” I said dryly. I might not have been prepared for all the changes my life would encounter when I had Penny, but I’d known I would be getting less sleep.

“It seems you have help, but it’s always difficult to rest with an infant in the house,” he said, obviously referring to Nora. “And is your husband…"

“He’s very helpful,” I said swiftly. In truth, Smith deserved more credit than I did. He certainly tried harder.

“I’d like to prescribe a sleeping tablet as well,” he said. “You should only take it when you feel like you need to get very well rested or to catch up on sleep. Times when the baby is with her nanny or her father perhaps.

I wanted to argue with him about that. A sleeping pill sounded even worse than antidepressants, but the thought of actually getting rest was too tempting.

"Now, am I going to meet this little one?” he asked.

I squared my shoulders before nodding. I’d had my moment alone. The doctor was going to give me things to fix me. There was no reason I should dread Nora bringing the baby in now. Still, when Dr. Stanton stuck his head out and called for Marjorie to send them in, I had the strangest urge to run. But the moment that Nora appeared with Penny, the feeling evaporated. Maybe I didn’t have everything figured out yet, but seeing my daughter sent warmth spreading through my chest. My bliss was short-lived as the doctor began his examination, which resulted in Penny screaming her head off in indignation.

I felt terrible, but I couldn’t help giggling at how upset she got when he weighed her. My good humor vanished when he frowned. “Her weight is a little less than we would like to see at this stage. I’m going to give you a few recommendations for some herbs that will help you increase your milk supply, and I’d like you to bring her back in two weeks for another weight check.”