Naleighna Kai's Literary Cafe Magazine NK LCM February 2018 Anniversary Issue | Page 67

twenty-four-seven just for me.
It was those memories that made me snap, “You’re always trying to sleep,
Monica. Five o’clock in the morning, you’re sleep. Five o’clock in the evening,
you’re sleep.”
“You know I can’t help it.” She folded her arms and her bottom lip trembled.
“You know what I’m suffering from. You know how it’s affected me.”
This was where I was supposed to have empathy. Maybe pull Monica into
my arms, give her a hug, assure her that everything was going to be okay. But
even though I wanted to, sometimes I couldn’t. Because I felt like I didn’t have
any more understanding inside of me.
It had started years ago, right after our daughter, Raven, had been born. As
soon as I brought Monica and Raven home, I’d noticed the change in my wife: she
was moody, had trouble sleeping, couldn’t eat. In the beginning, we’d just thought
she was just suffering from baby blues because she hadn’t gone through that with
our son who was ten when Raven was born. But after a few weeks, she’d been
diagnosed with postpartum depression.
Of course, I wanted my wife to have the best care and her ob-gyn was on it.
Her doctor gave her medication, taught her relaxation methods, and suggested a
support group. Well, Monica never attended a single meeting and only took about
two deep breaths to relax herself. But the medication — Monica rode that one for
as long as the doctor gave her prescriptions.
When Raven was a year old, Monica’s gynecologist had referred her to a
psychologist…and even though she’d been seeing Dr. Nichols ever since, it felt
like we were in the same place.
“I don’t care what you say,” she broke through my memories of when this all
began. “I’m still suffering from PPD.”
She’d become so familiar with the term that she only spoke of it through its
acronym. But postpartum depression wasn’t her problem at all.
“Raven is six, so it’s not postpartum depression,” I said, refusing to call such
a serious disorder by a nickname. “You’re suffering from a lot of things, but that’s
not one of them.”
Her glare became harsher. “Whatever,” she said, snatching the covers away
from me. She turned her back and snuggled deep under the duvet.
I shook my head. Maybe I should have tried one of my old approaches. But
then the chime of my phone turned my attention away from my wife.
A message:
NKLC Magazine | 67