Janie shook her head. “I’m not depressed. I’m just... I’m a bad mother, and I failed my children.”
“No,” Rae said firmly. “You’re a mother with postpartum depression who experienced a traumatic incident, and youdidn’t have the support structure to process it healthily because you were already in distress by the time it happened. There’s a significant difference.”
Solo took Janie’s hand, and Janie gripped it like it was a lifeline. She almost cracked a joke about not breaking her bones, but it wasn’t the time. A heavy ball settled in her gut as she realized she couldn’t really remember the last time they’d joked together.
“I thought you might benefit from medication and some more intensive therapy,” Rae said, “but I had to be certain, and I needed you to be ready to hear it. The guilt and shame you’re experiencing, Janie, isn’t proportional to what actually happened. Yes, Chloe got into a cabinet she shouldn’t have. Yes, it was scary. But your reaction to it: the crushing guilt, the belief that you’re unfit, the inability to forgive yourself is the depression talking, not reality.”
“But my mother?—”
“Your mother is obviously a manipulative narcissist who found your vulnerable spot and is trying to exploit it,” Rae said.
The abrupt way Rae clasped her hands together hinted at a degree of anger toward Janie’s mother, and Solo wanted to hug her for that.
Rae separated her hands and stretched out her fingers, as if conscious of showing her own feelings. “She’s using your depression-fueled guilt against you. That’s what abusers do.”
The surge of protective anger toward Janie’s mother was so fierce it took Solo’s breath away. “So what do we do? How do we help Janie?”
“First, Janie needs to see a psychiatrist about medication options.” Rae looked at Janie. “Depression isn’t weakness, and it isn’t something you can just power through with positive thinking. It’s a medical condition that responds to treatment. Are you willing to try that?”
“Yes,” Janie said, in between small, gasping sobs.
Rae waited until Janie finished wiping away her tears. “Second, we need to address the trauma of the incident itself.What happened with Chloe was terrifying, and you never properly processed it. EMDR or trauma-focused therapy might be helpful there.”
“Okay.” Janie nodded slowly then glanced at Solo.
The fear in her eyes wrenched Solo’s heart from her chest, and she inched closer. “Is it okay to hold you?”
Janie’s sigh seemed to take all the breath from her lungs. “Please.”
Solo wrapped her arm around Janie’s shoulders and held her tight. “I’ve got you,” she said and hoped to God that Janie would accept that she really meant it.
“And third,” Rae looked between them, “you two need to rebuild your relationship. Not pick up where you were before Janie left but actually start fresh. You have to get to know each other again and remember why you fell in love in the first place.”
“That’s mostly on me,” Solo said. “I’m the one who stopped seeing my wife.” She kissed the top of Janie’s head. “But last night was amazing. With the nanny interviews, and making dinner together, and talking honestly.”
“That’s a good start,” Rae said. “But I want to give you some structured homework to do.”
Solo couldn’t stop the disgruntled sigh from escaping. The active listening they’d done a few weeks ago hadn’t seemed to help, but then maybe she wasn’t invested enough at that point.
Rae raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and focused her eyes on Solo. “I’m going to give you some intentional exercises that will help you reconnect, but youbothhave to be engaged.”
“I’m sorry.” Solo held up her hands. “I’m here for it all. I’ll do whatever I need to do,” she whispered into Janie’s hair.
Rae pulled out a notepad and started writing. “First, I want you both to make a list of ten things you love about the other person. Not ‘she’s a good mother’ or ‘she works hard,’ but the specific things, like the small stuff that made you fall in love. I’m talking about quirks or habits, or moments you remember really vividly.”
Solo nodded, already thinking about her list. The way Janie bit her lip when she was concentrating. The sound of her laugh when something genuinely surprised her.
“Second, I want you to go on actual dates,” Rae said. “And I don’t mean dinner at home after the kids are asleep. I want you to get dressed up and go out. Hold hands and pretend you’re courting each other for the first time.” She looked at Solo. “I know your initial reaction might be that it’s logistically too complicated to achieve with three toddlers?—”
“We have Carmen now,” Solo said quickly. “And my dad. We can make it work.” When Janie looked up into her eyes, Solo pressed her lips to Janie’s forehead. “I’ll make it work, I promise.”
“Good,” Rae said.
Her wide smile was genuine and encouraging, and there was something about it and the way she seemed to really be in their corner that reinforced Solo’s belief that they could do this. Thatshecould do this and be a great wife again without sacrificing her love for their girls.
“I’d like you to go on one date per week, minimum, to somewhere you’ve never been together before. A new restaurant, a museum you’ve never visited, or a gig to see a band you’ve never heard of. The point is to create new memories, not just reminisce about how good the old ones are.”
“Okay. We can do that, right?” Janie eased out of Solo’s embrace and touched her cheek gently.
