“And Janie?” Solo waited until Janie met her eyes. “Everything you’ve been going through… I’m glad Rae named it. I’m glad we can treat it.”
“I’m scared.” Janie grasped Solo’s shirt. “What if medication doesn’t help? What if I stay like this?”
“We’ll figure it out together. But Rae seems convinced it’s going to help more than you think, and she’s the expert.” Solo looked down at Janie’s hand scrunching her tee. She pulled her hands from her pockets and caressed Janie’s soft skin, another thing for her list. “You’re not a bad mom. You’re a great mom with a medical condition. There’s a huge difference.”
Janie’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they looked more like relief than despair.
“How does seven o’clock sound?” Solo asked. “Come for dinner. We’ll eat with the girls and Dad, and then after their bedtime, we can work on our lists.”
“Okay.” Janie let go of Solo’s shirt. “I’ll bring wine.”
“Perfect.” They stood there for another moment, Solo not quite ready to separate, and it seemed Janie shared the feeling.
Finally, Janie reached up and cupped Solo’s cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For not giving up on me and fighting for us even when I was too broken to fight for myself.”
“Always,” Solo said. “I’ll always fight for us.” She hadn’t realized the battle they were in before, but now that she did, she’d fight with every breath in her body, and then some. “Can I kiss you?”She waited, and time seemed to slow around them until Janie nodded. Solo cupped Janie’s face and pressed her lips to Janie’s briefly with a soft kiss she hoped was full of the promises Solo had made.
She watched Janie drive away, then sat in her own car for a long moment, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the session and everything that had to happen for their little family to be safe again.
Postpartum depression. It made so much sense now. Sure, Solo had exacerbated the problem with her own work schedule and issues. But their fights had been about more than that, even before the accident that had been the final straw.
Solo started her car and headed toward the garage, already looking forward to seeing Janie later. They were starting fresh and building something new from the pieces of what they’d broken.
They were going to make it. She could feel it.
And goddamn, did it feel fucking good.
CHAPTER 18
Dr. Vale’soffice 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 herhands 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’sexactlywhat 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 treatedifshe 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’sgood that it makes sense of everything I’ve been feeling, but it’s terrifying too.”
“How so?”
