The soft glow of the nursery nightlight cast long shadows across the room, illuminating Sara’s tear-stained face as she rocked her wailing infant. The clock on the wall ticked relentlessly, its hands pointing accusingly at 3:17 AM. Sara’s arms ached from the constant motion, her eyes stung from lack of sleep, and her mind raced with an unanswered question: How could something so small make her feel so utterly lost?
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Lily,” Sara whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion. The baby’s cries pierced the air, each wail like a dagger to Sara’s heart. The pungent smell of sour milk clung to her shirt, a reminder of the failed feeding attempt an hour ago.
Sara’s fingers trembled as she reached for her phone, pulling up the baby care app she’d downloaded in a desperate attempt to find answers. The screen’s harsh light made her squint, the list of potential reasons for Lily’s distress blurring before her eyes: hunger, diaper, gas, overtired…
“What is it, sweetie? What do you need?” Sara pleaded, bouncing Lily gently. The motion sent a wave of nausea through her sleep-deprived body. She swallowed hard, tasting the bitter remnants of the cold coffee she’d gulped down earlier.
A floorboard creaked in the hallway. Sara tensed, holding her breath. Please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up…
The door cracked open, and her husband Mark’s disheveled head poked in. “Everything okay?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Sara forced a smile, her cheeks aching with the effort. “We’re fine. Just… having a little trouble settling down. Go back to sleep, you have that big presentation tomorrow.”
Mark hesitated, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you sure? I can take over for a bit if you need a break.”
“No, really, it’s fine,” Sara insisted, her tone sharper than she intended. She saw the hurt flash across Mark’s face before he nodded and retreated, closing the door softly behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Sara’s facade crumpled. She sank into the rocking chair, clutching Lily to her chest as silent sobs wracked her body. The baby’s cries redoubled, as if sensing her mother’s distress.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Sara whispered, pressing her lips to Lily’s forehead. “Mommy’s trying, I promise. I just… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
The words hung in the air, mixing with Lily’s cries and the incessant ticking of the clock. Sara closed her eyes, trying to remember the confident, capable woman she’d been just a few months before. That Sara seemed like a stranger now, replaced by this hollow-eyed, milk-stained imposter who couldn’t even comfort her own newborn.
As the sky outside began to lighten, Sara made a decision. She couldn’t go on like this. Something had to change, or she was going to break. With trembling fingers, she reached for her phone once more, this time pulling up the contact information for her obstetrician. She’d make the call as soon as the office opened. Maybe they could help her figure out what was wrong – with Lily, with herself, with this whole motherhood thing that everyone else seemed to navigate so effortlessly.
For now, though, all she could do was rock and wait for the dawn, praying that the new day would bring some answers to the crushing doubts that threatened to swallow her whole.
The waiting room of Dr. Amelia Chen’s office buzzed with the low murmur of conversation and the occasional cry of an infant. Sara sat rigidly in an uncomfortable plastic chair, Lily mercifully asleep in her car seat. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and baby powder, making Sara’s stomach churn.
She glanced around the room, taking in the other mothers. They all seemed so… put together. A woman across from her was effortlessly breastfeeding while scrolling through her phone. Another bounced a toddler on her knee while chatting animatedly with the receptionist. Sara tugged self-consciously at her unwashed hair, painfully aware of the spit-up stain on her shirt that she’d only noticed in the car.
“Sara Levinson?” A nurse called from the doorway, startling Sara from her thoughts.
She fumbled with the diaper bag and car seat, nearly tripping as she made her way to the nurse. “That’s me,” she said, wincing at how small and uncertain her voice sounded.
The nurse – her nametag read ‘Jenny’ – gave her a warm smile. “Right this way, honey. Dr. Chen will be with you shortly.”
Sara followed Jenny down a narrow hallway, the walls lined with posters extolling the virtues of breastfeeding and the importance of tummy time. Each image of a beatifically smiling mother and child felt like a personal accusation.
In the exam room, Sara perched on the edge of the paper-covered table, Lily’s car seat beside her. The baby began to stir, her tiny fists clenching as her face scrunched up in preparation for a cry.
“Oh no, please, not now,” Sara whispered, reaching to unbuckle Lily. She had just settled the baby against her shoulder when Dr. Chen entered the room.
“Sara, it’s good to see you,” Dr. Chen said, her calm demeanor immediately putting Sara a bit more at ease. “How are you and little Lily doing?”
The practiced “We’re fine” died on Sara’s lips. Instead, to her horror, she burst into tears.
Dr. Chen didn’t miss a beat. She pulled up a chair, placing a box of tissues within Sara’s reach. “It’s okay, Sara. Take your time. This is a safe space.”
Between sobs, Sara poured out everything – the sleepless nights, the constant anxiety, the feeling of inadequacy that dogged her every moment.
“I just… I don’t know if I can do this,” she finished, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I’m not cut out to be a mother?”
Dr. Chen listened attentively, her expression compassionate. When Sara finished, she leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Sara, what you’re experiencing is more common than you might think. Have you heard of postpartum depression?”
Sara blinked, caught off guard. “I… I thought that was just for people who didn’t love their babies. But I do love Lily, I swear I do. I just…”
“Postpartum depression isn’t about not loving your baby,” Dr. Chen explained. “It’s a complex condition influenced by hormonal changes, sleep deprivation, and the enormous life transition that comes with becoming a parent. What you’re feeling doesn’t make you a bad mother. It makes you human.”
Relief washed over Sara, so intense it made her dizzy. She wasn’t alone. She wasn’t broken. There was a name for this, which meant there might be a way out.
Dr. Chen continued, outlining treatment options – therapy, support groups, and possibly medication. But it was her next suggestion that caught Sara by surprise.
“I’d also like to recommend something that’s shown promising results for new mothers in your situation,” Dr. Chen said, pulling a business card from her pocket. “It’s called positivity partnering. Have you heard of it?”
Sara shook her head, curious despite her skepticism.
“It’s a program where you’re paired with a Certified Positivity Partner, or CPP. They provide daily check-ins and support, helping you reframe negative thoughts and focus on small victories. It’s not a replacement for therapy, but many of my patients find it helpful.”
Sara turned the card over in her hand, hope and doubt warring within her. “I… I don’t know. It sounds a bit…”
“New age-y?” Dr. Chen finished with a smile. “I understand the skepticism. But why don’t you give it a try? Just for a week or two. If it doesn’t help, you can always discontinue.”
Lily chose that moment to let out a contented coo, nuzzling against Sara’s neck. The simple gesture, so full of trust and love, brought fresh tears to Sara’s eyes – but this time, they weren’t entirely tears of despair.
“Okay,” Sara said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll try it.”
As she left the office that day, prescription and positivity partner contact info in hand, Sara felt something she hadn’t experienced in many days: a tiny flicker of hope.
The next morning, Sara sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in hand, heart racing as she waited for her first positivity partnering session to begin. Lily was down for her morning nap, and the house was eerily quiet.
The video call connected, revealing a woman with bright eyes and a warm smile. “Hi there! I’m Meg. You must be Sara?”
Sara nodded, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “That’s me. I, uh… I’m not really sure how this works.”
Meg’s laugh was like a gentle chime. “No worries! We’ll figure it out together. Why don’t we start with a quick check-in? On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your current happiness level?”
Sara bit her lip, considering. “Maybe… a 2? Is that terrible?”
“There’s no right or wrong answer,” Meg assured her. “We’re just establishing a baseline. Now, let’s talk about your day so far. Can you tell me one positive thing that’s happened, no matter how small?”
Sara’s mind went blank. Everything felt like a struggle lately. “No.”
Meg nodded. “Okay… tell me what’s happening.”
“I… I don’t know where to start.”
“Start with what you’re feeling right now.”
Sara thought about it for a moment, searching for the right word. “Overwhelm,” she settled on.
“Okay. and why are you feeling overwhelmed?”
“I… Oh, I don’t know… This is a mistake.”
“No,” Meg said firmly. “It’s not a mistake, but something pretty big is troubling you. What is it?”
Sara hesitated.
Meg saw the hesitation. “Everything we say here stays between you and me.”
Sara nodded.
“I just… I had a baby… our first… Lily… and…”
She drew in a ragged breath.
“…and I don’t think I’m a very good mother…”
Meg waited patiently while Sara cast about for words. After a few more minutes, the story came blurting out.
Meg waited and then finally spoke after Sara had run down. “That doesn’t make you a bad mother. It makes you a caring mother.”
Sara considered this. “Well… yes… of course I care.”
Meg answered her, “I think you deserve credit for that, don’t you?”
“I suppose… It’s just that nothing seems to be going right…” But then she remembered… “Oh! Lily did only wake up twice last night instead of her usual three or four times.”
Meg’s face lit up. “That’s good! Extra sleep is huge for new moms. How did that make you feel?”
“I… I guess I felt a little more rested,” Sara admitted. “I hadn’t really thought about it that way.”
The session continued, with Meg guiding Sara through reframing. By the end of their thirty minutes, Sara was surprised to find herself… not smiling, but not frowning either.
“All right, let’s do one more feeling check,” Meg said. “1 to 10, how are you feeling now?”
Sara paused, taking stock. “Maybe… a 4? Is that okay?”
Meg beamed. “That’s progress. Remember, this is a journey. It’s not about instant success. There will be down times, and there will be better times. Our job together is to help you think about them in a different way than you have been.”
As the call ended, Sara felt a little lighter. It wasn’t a magical fix, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like maybe, just maybe, things could get better.
The weeks that followed were a rollercoaster. Some days, Sara felt like she was making real progress. Other days, the old doubts and anxieties came crashing back with a vengeance. But through it all, she kept up with her daily positivity partnering sessions and the small goals Meg had helped her set.
One particularly challenging afternoon, Sara found herself in the grocery store, Lily strapped to her chest in a baby carrier. She was scanning the shelves for organic baby food when Lily began to fuss, her cries escalating quickly to full-blown wails.
Sara felt the familiar panic rising in her chest. People were starting to stare. She should leave, go home where she couldn’t bother anyone else. But then she remembered Meg’s words from their session that morning: “You’re stronger than you think, Sara. Trust yourself.”
Taking a deep breath, Sara began to sway gently, humming a lullaby under her breath. She focused on the weight of Lily against her chest, the soft wisps of hair tickling her chin. Gradually, Lily’s cries subsided to whimpers, then to contented gurgles.
“You’re doing great, mama,” a gentle voice said softly. Sara looked up to see an older woman smiling at her. “I remember those days. It gets easier, I promise.”
Tears pricked Sara’s eyes, but this time, they were tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” she whispered.
That night, as she recounted the experience to Mark over dinner, Sara realized something had shifted. The incident that would have once sent her spiraling had become a moment of triumph.
“I’m proud of you, babe,” Mark said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “I know it hasn’t been easy, but you’re doing an amazing job.”
——————————
Six months after Lily’s birth, Sara stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her blouse. Today was her first day back at work, and a jumble of emotions swirled within her – excitement, anxiety, guilt, and a strange sense of anticipation.
“You’ve got this,” she told her reflection, echoing the words Meg had used in their session that morning. Her happiness self-assessment had started at a 6 and ended at an 8 – a far cry from those early days of 2s and 3s.
As she made her way to the kitchen, Sara heard Mark’s voice, low and soothing. She paused in the doorway, taking in the scene before her.
Mark sat at the table, Lily perched on his lap. An open jar of baby food sat between them, and Mark was making exaggerated airplane noises as he guided a spoonful towards Lily’s mouth. The baby giggled, her chubby hands reaching for the spoon.
“And here comes the airplane, zooming through the clouds…” Mark narrated, his voice shifting to a deep rumble. “Uh oh, turbulence ahead! Will our brave passengers make it to their destination?”
Lily shrieked with laughter as Mark wobbled the spoon, then finally delivered its payload to her waiting mouth. A glob of pureed sweet potato immediately dribbled down her chin.
“Houston, we have touchdown!” Mark cheered, reaching for a napkin. “And it looks like we had a bit of a… sweet potato explosion on the runway.”
Sara couldn’t help it – she burst out laughing. The sound made both Mark and Lily look up, their faces breaking into matching grins.
“Ahma!” Lily squealed, holding out her orange-smeared hands.
Sara’s heart swelled as she crossed the room, dropping a kiss on Lily’s head and another on Mark’s cheek. “Looks like you two have got breakfast under control,” she said, inhaling the familiar scent of baby shampoo and the coffee brewing on the counter.
“We’re managing,” Mark said with a wink. “Though I think Lily’s wearing more of her breakfast than she’s eating. You ready for your big day?”
Sara took a deep breath, surprised to find that the anxiety she’d expected was overshadowed by a sense of excitement. “You know what? I think I am.”
As she gathered her things and prepared to leave, Sara felt a tug on her heartstrings. She turned back to see Lily watching her with wide eyes.
“Mama will be back soon, sweetie,” she said, her voice catching slightly. “I love you so, so much.”
To her surprise, Lily didn’t cry. Instead, the baby smiled and waved a chubby hand. “Ba!” she squealed.
Sara blew a kiss, then stepped out into the crisp morning air. As she walked to her car, she reflected on the journey of the past six months. The sleepless nights, the tears, the moments of doubt – they were all still there, a part of her story. But they no longer defined her.
She thought of the question that had plagued her in those early days: How could something so small make her feel so utterly lost? Now, she realized, there was a new question to consider: How could something so small have led her to find a strength she never knew she possessed?
With a smile, Sara started the car and pulled out of the driveway, ready to embrace whatever challenges the day might bring. She was Sara – mother, wife, professional, and so much more. And she was finally beginning to understand that she was exactly the mother Lily needed her to be.
As she merged onto the highway, Sara’s phone buzzed with a text. Assuming it was Meg with a last-minute pep talk, she glanced at it at the next red light. Instead, she saw it was from an unknown number:
“You should know the truth about Lily. Facetime with me at noon.”
Sara’s blood ran cold. The familiar anxiety threatened to overwhelm her, but she took a deep breath, remembering her tools. One step at a time, she told herself. You’ve faced bigger challenges than this.
With trembling fingers, she sent a quick text to Mark about a lunch meeting, then pointed her car towards the office. Whatever this mysterious message meant, she would face it. Because now she knew – she was stronger than she ever imagined.
The morning at work passed in a blur. Sara went through the motions, smiling at colleagues and catching up on projects, but her mind kept drifting to the cryptic text. As noon approached, she made her excuses and stepped into an unoccupied room, closing the door behind her.
Would the mysterious person call? Would she answer?
She looked out the window at the park below. The park was bustling with the usual lunchtime crowd – joggers, dog walkers, and office workers enjoying the sunshine.
Her phone buzzed, a Facetime call.
With trepidation, she answered it.
“Sara?” The soft voice came through.
She found find herself face to face with a woman who looked to be in her early 70s. The woman’s silver hair was pulled back in a neat bun, and her kind eyes crinkled sadly at the corners as she offered a forced smile.
“I’m Margaret,” the woman said. “Thank you for answering. I… I wasn’t sure you would.”
Sara’s heart raced. “What’s this about? You said something about the truth about Lily?”
The distant sounds of the office faded away. Sara could hear nothing but the blood rushing in her ears as she waited for Margaret to speak.
“I’m your mother-in-law,” Margaret said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sara blinked, confusion replacing her fear. “What? But Mark’s mother passed away years ago, before we even met.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s what he believes. It’s what his father told him when Mark was just a boy. But it wasn’t true.”
Sara felt the ground shift beneath her feet. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant laughter of children playing in the park. “This must be some kind of scam.”
Margaret took a deep, shuddering breath as she shook her head no. “After Mark was born, I… I fell into a darkness I couldn’t escape. Back then, we didn’t have a name for it. Postpartum depression wasn’t something people talked about. Women were expected to be overjoyed, to transition seamlessly into motherhood.”
Sara nodded, a lump forming in her throat as she remembered her own struggles.
“But I couldn’t do it,” Margaret continued, her voice cracking. “I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. The simplest tasks felt insurmountable. I’d stare at Mark for hours, knowing I should feel this overwhelming love, but feeling… nothing. And then feeling guilty for feeling nothing, which only made everything worse.”
She paused, shifting uncomfortably. “Thomas, Mark’s father, my husband, he tried to help, but he didn’t understand. Nobody did. One day, I… I just couldn’t take it anymore. I left the house and didn’t come back.”
Sara’s eyes widened. “You ran away?”
Margaret shook her anguished face, tears now flowing freely. “Not exactly… Well… I checked myself into an in-patient psychiatric center. That’s what they called it, but it was really little more than a state-run halfway house. I knew I needed help, even if I didn’t know what kind of help I needed, even though they didn’t know what kind of help to give me.”
“How long were you there?” Sara asked softly.
“Almost two years,” Margaret replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sara gasped. “Two years? But what about Mark? What about your family?”
Margaret’s face crumpled. “That’s the part I… I’m most ashamed of. When I was finally well enough to reach out, to try and come home… my husband told me it was too late.”
“Too late?!?” Sara cried out, disbelief coloring her voice.
Margaret nodded, her eyes distant with the pain of the memory. “He said Mark had adjusted to life without me. That bringing me back into his life would only confuse and hurt him..”
Sara felt a surge of anger. “But that wasn’t his decision to make! You were Mark’s mother!”
“I know… I know,” Margaret said, her voice heavy with regret. “But at the time… the guilt I felt… I thought maybe… he was right. Maybe Mark was better off without me.”
Sara reeled, trying to process the enormity of what she was hearing. “So you just… stayed away? For all these years? But why would Thomas do that?”
Margaret’s eyes clouded with a mixture of pain and understanding. “It’s… complicated. You have to understand the times we were living in. It was 1988. The world was a very different place, especially when it came to mental health and family dynamics.”
She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Thomas and I, we were college sweethearts. Married young, right out of school. Everyone expected us to start a family right away. And we did. But when the baby came…”
Margaret’s voice trailed off, her gaze distant.
“But that’s not possible,” Sara replied, adding it up in her head. “That would mean you were 22 then, which makes you…”
“I’m 58.”
Sara stared in horror. No, that isn’t possible. This woman looks at least 10-15 years older than 58.
Margaret recognized that look. “It’s true. I know I don’t look 58 any more, but I am…”
Sara waited in shock, sensing the weight of the tortured life that was about to be revealed to her.
“I wasn’t the woman Thomas thought he’d married. The vivacious, carefree girl was gone, replaced by this… shell. I couldn’t function. Couldn’t care for Mark. Couldn’t be the wife Thomas expected.”
Sara nodded, understanding all too well the transformative power of postpartum depression.
“Thomas tried, at first,” Margaret continued. “But he didn’t understand. No one did back then. Postpartum depression wasn’t named or even discussed until years later. Women were expected to be natural mothers, to find instant fulfillment in domesticity. If you struggled, it was seen as a personal failure, a moral weakness.”
She took a shaky breath. “The neighbors talked. His colleagues whispered. His boss even pulled him aside one day, suggesting that perhaps I wasn’t ‘fit’ to be a mother. That it reflected poorly on his judgment and stability.”
Sara felt a surge of anger on Margaret’s behalf. “That’s horrible!”
Margaret nodded sadly. “It was a different time. It was a time of transition, but the old ways still held sway. Some men were still expected to keep their households in order. Some women saw themselves as liberated at that time, but many of us had… different, more conservative, more traditional upbringings. A wife who couldn’t cope, who had to be… treated… it was still seen as a mark of shame. He got passed over for promotions. Our friends started to drift away. His parents suggested that perhaps he should consider… other options.”
“Other options?” Sara echoed, a sick feeling growing in her stomach.
“Divorce,” Margaret whispered. “Or… there were places, treatment centers for women like me. Where we could be kept out of sight, out of mind.”
Sara’s mind reeled, trying to imagine the suffocating social expectations of the time. “So when you were finally well enough to come home…”
Margaret nodded, tears welling in her eyes. “Thomas had built a life for himself and Mark. A life that fit the social expectations of the time. He had a reputation as a devoted, heroic single father, raising his son alone after his wife’s tragic passing. To bring me back…”
“…would have revealed the lie,” Sara finished.
“Yes,” Margaret gasped. “I think he justified it to himself that he was protecting everyone. Protecting Mark from the stigma of having a mentally ill mother. Protecting me from the judgment and whispers. But yes, most of all, protecting himself and the lie he’d managed to sell to everyone.”
“And Mark doesn’t know any of this,” Sara breathed, mostly to herself.
Margaret shook her head. “As far as I know, he believes I died when he was a baby. That’s the story Thomas stuck to all these years.”
Sara felt the weight of this revelation settling on her shoulders. The truth would shatter not just Mark’s understanding of his past, but it would forever change his relationship with his father.
“This is… it’s going to be incredibly difficult for Mark to process,” Sara said slowly. “And Thomas… Thomas… I never expected anything like this from him.”
Margaret nodded, her face etched with sorrow and regret.
With a deep breath, Sara declared. “It’s time for you to come home. We have a lot to talk about with Mark.”
“Oh no!” Margaret protested. “I can’t… It’s been too long… It’s too late…”
“It’s never too late,” Sara surprised herself by declaring. “Come to our house. I’ll give you the address.”
“No, I can’t. No, it’s too much!”
“Well, what’s the point of telling me all of this, then?”
“I…” Margaret hesitated, freezing, grasping for words that wouldn’t come.
“At least come and meet your granddaughter.”
Later that evening, the doorbell rang. Sara knew who it must be. Mark looked at her curiously, sensing something wasn’t quite right.
“I’ll get it,” she declared hesitantly as she staggered to her feet.
A moment later, the two women entered the kitchen together.
Mark looked up, his smile of greeting freezing on his face as he saw the stranger beside his wife.
“Mark,” Sara said, her voice quavering, “this is Margaret. She’s… she’s your mother.”
A look of disbelief followed by horror consumed him.
Then Mark spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “What are you talking about, Sara? My mother is dead. She died when I was a baby. You know that..”
Margaret stepped forward, her eyes brimming with tears. “No, Mark. That’s… that’s not true. I’m so sorry, but your father lied to you. To everyone.”
Then Sara saw it on his face: recognition. She followed his eyes as he looked Margaret over. Margaret had his eyes… his hands… his nose. She even tilted her head the same way he did. It was like looking at a smaller, frail version of himself in female form.
Sara moved to pick up and comfort Lily, her own emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She bounced Lily mechanically, her attempts at soothing words coming out disjointed and barely audible. Her heart raced, and she felt the familiar tightness in her chest that often preceded a panic attack.
She watched Mark’s face contort with a myriad of emotions – disbelief, shock.
“A Lie,” Mark’s voice rose. “My entire life has been a lie! Every memory, every story about my brave single dad raising me alone… it was all bull???”
He whirled on Margaret, his eyes grasping for answers. “And you! Where the hell have you been? 36 years! 36 years, and you show up now? NOW?”
Margaret flinched as if she’d been struck. “Mark, please, if you’d just let me explain…”
Mark gave a half-laugh, a ragged, bitter sound that made Sara’s skin crawl. “Explain? Oh Please! Tell me why you abandoned your child for three and a half decades!”
As Margaret stumbled through her story – the postpartum depression, Thomas’s betrayal, the years of separation — Sara felt herself spiraling. The room tilted and swayed, Lily’s cries echoing distantly in her ears. She clutched the counter for support, her breathing shallow and rapid.
“Sara?” Margaret’s voice cut through the fog. “Sara, are you all right?”
Mark turned, staring at her with deep concern as he took in his wife’s pale, sweating face. “Babe? What’s wrong?”
Sara tried to speak, but no words came out. She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks as she struggled to breathe.
Mark was at her side in an instant, taking Lily from her arms. “Sara, sit down. It’s okay, just breathe.”
But it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. As Sara sank into a chair, she felt the full weight of the situation crashing down on her. Here she was, still battling her own demons, and now she was expected to be the strong one? To mediate this family crisis?
“I can’t,” she gasped out between sobs. “I can’t do this. It’s too much.”
Mark knelt beside her, his own turmoil evident in his eyes. “Sara, I’m sorry. I didn’t think… God, this is such a mess.”
While Sara plopped onto a chair, Margaret stood awkwardly to the side, her face a mask of guilt and concern. “Perhaps I should go,” she said softly. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have-”
“No!” Mark’s declaration made everyone jump. He stood, holding Lily, who clung to him like a lifeline. “You don’t get to walk away. Not again.”
Sara reached for her phone with trembling hands. She needed help, right now. She pulled up her chat with Meg, her positivity partner.
Emergency, she typed, her fingers slipping on the keys. Family crisis. Can’t cope. Need help ASAP.
As she waited for a response, praying Meg would be available, Sara took a shuddering breath. Whatever happened next, she knew one thing for certain – their lives would never be the same again.
Mark and Margaret resumed their conversation in tense but civil tones.
Sara’s phone buzzed, startling her. It was Meg responding to her cry for help.
I’m here. Can you make a video call?
Sara looked up at Mark and Margaret, still locked in their intense conversation. Mark looked tight but under control as he stroked Lily’s head to comfort her.
Sara whispered, “I need a moment,” before slipping out of the kitchen.
In the relative quiet of the nursery, Sara initiated the video call. Meg’s concerned face appeared on the screen.
“Sara, what’s going on? You look awful!”
Sara’s words tumbled out in a rush, explaining the day’s events – Margaret’s appearance, Mark’s reaction, her own overwhelming anxiety. As she spoke, she felt the familiar tightness in her chest begin to ease slightly.
Meg listened attentively, her expression compassionate. When Sara’s torrent waned, Meg asked gently, “Tell me what you are feeling.”
Sara let out a shaky laugh. “Negative 15? Is that an option?”
Meg smiled softly. “It’s valid to feel overwhelmed. This is an incredibly stressful situation. But let’s focus on you for a moment. What do you need right now?”
Sara blinked, caught off guard by the question. She’d been so focused on Mark’s needs, on Margaret’s story, on keeping Lily calm… “I… I don’t know,” she admitted.
“That’s okay,” Meg reassured her. “Let’s think about it together. You’re dealing with your own postpartum journey, and now this huge family crisis has been slammed into your lap. It’s a lot for anyone to handle.”
Sara felt her racing thoughts begin to slow.
Meg continued gently, “I want you to remember something important: You are not responsible for solving everyone’s problems. You can’t control Mark’s reaction or his relationship with his mother. You can’t control what his father did or what will happen to their relationship. You can only control your own actions and responses in your own life.”
Sara nodded and sighed. “But how can I support Mark if I’m barely holding it together myself?”
“By taking care of yourself first,” Meg replied firmly. “You know the airplane oxygen mask analogy? You have to secure your own mask before helping others. The same applies here. To be there for Mark and Lily, you need to prioritize your own mental health and healing.”
As they continued to talk, Sara felt a shift in her perspective. She realized that by trying to be the strong one, by attempting to mediate this complex family situation while ignoring her own needs, she was doing herself – and her family – a huge disservice.
“What do you think your next steps should be?” Meg asked as their session was winding down.
Sara took a deep breath, feeling more centered than she had all day. “I need to be honest with Mark about where I’m at emotionally. And I think… I think we might need some professional help to navigate this situation. A family therapist, maybe?”
Meg nodded approvingly. “That sounds like a great plan. Remember, it’s okay to set boundaries, to take time for yourself. This situation won’t be resolved overnight, and that’s okay.”
As they ended the call, Sara felt a renewed sense of purpose. Her self-assessment had climbed from that initial negative number to a cautious 4 – not great, but a substantial improvement.
She stood and made her way back to the kitchen. Mark and Margaret were sitting in silence, both looking drained.
“Hey,” Sara said softly, drawing their attention. “I think we all need a break. Margaret, would you be willing to come back tomorrow? I believe we all need some time to process.”
Margaret nodded, looking relieved. As Sara showed her out, promising to be in touch, she felt Mark’s presence behind her.
Once the door closed, Sara turned to face her husband. “Mark, we need to talk. About all of this, yes, but also about me. About us. I haven’t been entirely honest about how I’ve been coping, and I think it’s time I was.”
Mark’s face softened, the anger giving way to concern. “Okay,” he replied. “Let’s talk.”
As they moved to the living room, Sara felt a glimmer of hope. The road ahead would be challenging, full of difficult conversations and hard truths. But she no longer felt the weight of it all on her shoulders alone. She couldn’t solve everything, but she could focus on her own healing, on being honest with her partner, and on taking this journey one step at a time.
It was a start.
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