Fifty Shades of Post-Partum

To the readers: Thank you for all of your feedback and support. This is a very delicate and sensitive topic, not to mention one that we don't like to talk about out loud. There are many forms of depression and often those that suffer from them feel silenced by a society that is uncomfortable with them. If I do not update as frequently as you like, please understand that I work very hard to make sure that my language and phraseology depict the emotions of the characters as authentically as possible.

The themes of this story are weighty and disturbing, but I feel that this is a topic that has been swept under the rug for too long. There will be twists and turns, setbacks and milestones achieved along the way. The road to recovery is long and sometimes treacherous, but it is possible to heal. And trust me, I do know what I am talking about.

Chapter 2: Acknowledgment

Holy hell! Once again I am living out my worst nightmare. I hear the sirens before they reached the house. I look out the window and see the flashing red lights of the emergency vehicles. Shit! What is this? I look beside me. Ana is gone. I look in the bassinet. Phoebe is sleeping peacefully. I run into Teddy's room hoping . . . But no. She isn't there. Teddy is sound asleep.

Shit! Where is she? I am afraid to shout because I do not want to wake the babies. I throw on my jeans and a shirt and run out the back and down the lawn towards the darkened figures that I can see moving about, approximately halfway up from the beach.

The full moon is so bright they don't need flashlights to see. I draw closer and can make out four figures, one of them prone. And in that silvery moonlight I see them, but my eyes focused instantly on Ana. She lies in Gail's arms, as Gail clings to her fiercely, rocking her.

Sawyer looks at me from where he is bent over, breathing heavily, and says hoarsely, "Breathing."

Then I notice that they are all wet or damp and shivering. Sawyer and Taylor are dripping, especially Sawyer. Ana is soaked to the skin but cloaked in heavy blankets. Gail looks up at me with tears in her eyes and offers her to me. Looking back I can see the lights of the EMTs coming down the lawn from the house. I grab Ana from Gail's arms and rush back up the lawn. I have never run so fast or so hard in my life. But I can feel her shallow breath on my cheek as I hold her close. Ana is alive.

When I reach them, I lay her down on the gurney and run my finger down her cheek. There is no response. Breathe, Anastasia, breathe. And then I back away to let professionals do their job. Taylor comes up right behind me. As the policewoman fires off questions, he answers in his clear, composed way. It reminds me of why I hired him in the first place. He is always at his best under pressure, grace under fire.

I am vaguely aware of Gail rubbing my back soothingly and I can swear that I hear her murmuring "there, there." I am mute. I can't add anything to the story of what happened. I cannot really hear what Taylor is saying, only snatches. She was walking down the lawn a if in a trance . . . Sawyer pulled her out of the water . . . saved her from drowning . . . We all worked to keep her warm . . . needed to avoid hypothermia.

"Was her action intentional?"

"Yes."

Taylor's voice is definitive as he looks at me, as if he is daring me to contradict him.

"No!" my heart screams.

"Yes!" my brain screams in counterpoint.

Did I know? Did I deny it? The thoughts are racing rapidly through my mind. How was Ana's mood recently? She was tired. She was sad. She had lost interest in everything but the children. Gail tried to tell me. So did Mother. I even took her to see Flynn, under protest of course.

She had bestirred herself to make the right impression. She had always been a little fearful of Flynn. I think that it was because he saw that beneath her newly discovered self-confidence, there were still some long-buried issues. She fooled him. She fooled me. Baby blues, he said, give it some time. Some women get it worse than others.

Watch her. Give her extra TLC. Make sure she eats (as if he had to tell me that). Get her up and exercising (fat chance, she didn't like to exercise on a good day). If she doesn't improve, bring her back to me. She didn't, not really, but she refused to go back. She was too tired . . . Give me a few days, Christian. All I need is a little rest. It's nothing. Trust me.

She was too tired for sex. Unusual for her, but I figured it was hormones. At night, I held her in arms, like always, tightly, spooning around her. It was if both of our libidos were so in tune with one another that I didn't miss it either. Ana had taught me how to make love. The physical act was nothing without her. It's only you, Anastasia. It's only ever been you.

And it still is and will always be. She needed rest. She needed time. I would give her whatever she wanted, whatever she needed. Now, in the clarity of twenty-twenty hindsight, I can see that she didn't know what she needed.

But then things changed. She started to get up and watch the children in the middle of the night. It was always the children. There were times when she would fall asleep in the rocking chair by Teddy's crib. If I found her there, I would carry her back to bed and hold on tightly.

Or she would fall asleep in the chair in our room, the recliner, leaning back and holding Phoebe on her chest, snuggled in her arms. They looked so tranquil together, my two beautiful girls. I didn't have the heart to disturb them.

My Ana, my Ana. I have failed you. Like before, when you didn't trust me. You went to face Jack Hyde on your own. You didn't come to me. You thought that you couldn't tell me. Now I don't even know what you are facing. Why didn't you tell me? Why couldn't you tell me? You led me from the black night of my soul and into the light. Have you slipped away into the darkness?

Call Flynn and my mother. Tell them to meet us at the hospital.

Flynn for Ana, my mother for me. Grace will help see me through this. I must be strong. The last time it was just for Ana. This time there are three of them. I vaguely hear Taylor telling Gail to stay with the children. Sawyer will be close protection. Ryan will man the CCTV. Once he got there Taylor will come to the hospital. That's why I hired him, grace under fire. He will always thinking of our safety, of their safety when I have to focus my attention elsewhere.

I always knew that could count on Taylor not to panic. He knows his shit. He didn't try to go out and play hero. He let the stronger swimmer, Sawyer pull her out of the water. He coordinated things with Gail. He kept her warm. He got help to her as quickly as possible. In the moment of crisis, Ana had been front and center, where she should be. Christ, what would we do without this man?

Just like the last time, I climb into the ambulance to ride with her. I take her hand. I try to will my strength and love into her.

"Why won't she wake up?"

"Shock from the cold water? The doctors will know. Who is Flynn?"

"Shrink. Best in the world."

Yeah, right, best fucking shrink in the world. But he missed this. Can I really blame him? I missed this too. She put on an acting job worthy of an Oscar. How did she do it? Do I even have to ask? For how many years did I throw up a front, the big, strong man totally in control? I could blaze into a meeting full of confidence and taking no prisoners, yet all the time I was thinking that I was nothing more than a fucked up piece of shit that didn't deserve to live.

Wake up, Ana. Wake up. She doesn't respond to my silent plea. She lies here cold, just like the last time, except for the bruises. There are no bruises. I take that back. There are bruises, bruises invisible to the eye, bruises of the heart and soul.

She is ghostly pale and thin as a rail. She has lost weight again. When did she last do that? When we broke up. When she didn't talk to me. When she didn't tell me what she needed. She was afraid. Is she afraid now? Talk to me, Ana. The ambulance is warm. I feel warm, too warm, but I don't care. Keep Ana warm.

Her cool hand has been warmed by my touch. Is it my imagination? Is there a hint of pink returning to her cheeks? Maybe she is blushing. Is she embarrassed? I don't like to cause all this fuss and bother. I know that you don't, Ana. That's why you didn't do this on purpose. I know you. You never want to draw attention to yourself. Intentional? No way. Unless . . . I can't finish the thought.

I can hear the wail of the external sirens as we fly through the night. It's easier for the ambulance to speed through the empty streets. It seems like a minute. It seems like forever. We are hurtling through the entrance to the hospital and to the ER. They are standing there waiting: doctors, nurses, orderlies. I don't know who else. Mother. I leap out of the ambulance to give them space to work. My mother envelops me in her soft embrace.

For all of those years, I kept her at arms' length. What a waste! For all of those years, she would have comforted me. She would have comforted me through my nightmares and through the never-ending pain. It hurt her not to touch me. If it wasn't for Ana . . . Would I have never have discovered the tender love that only a touch can demonstrate?

"There, there," she backs my back, as her arms reach around me.

The gurney passes us as it rushes into the ER. Flynn is waiting in the small, curtained area that has been allotted to us. He looks at me, and our eyes lock. He doesn't lie. This is serious. In some ways, it is worse than the hit she took from Hyde that gave her a concussion. It is more serious than when Blip, Teddy, was in distress before he was born.

Physically, she is alive. My mother is explaining that Sawyer's quick action and Taylor's quick thinking prevented asphyxia and hypothermia. I can hardly focus on her words. My eyes are on the bed. Ana's vital signs are normal. She should wake up, but doesn't seem to want to open her eyes.

"Christian," says Mother quietly, standing closely behind me. "Say something to her. See if you can coax her into responding."

I step forward and take her hand. I rub my thumb over her knuckles. I remember the first time that I held her hand. It was a day that I'll never forget.

"We were going for coffee that morning after the photo shoot in the Heathman. We went to the Portland Coffeehouse. Do you remember that Ana? Please remember it," I hear myself asking and I realize that I am now speaking my thoughts aloud.

"Do you remember, Ana?" I continue softly. "I had coffee. You had Twinings English Breakfast Tea. I had a blueberry muffin, but as usual, you wouldn't eat. You were nearly run down by a cyclist and I caught you. I held you in my arms. I'm here to catch you again, Anastasia. I'm always here, even when you are sleeping.

"Please, remember, Anastasia. Remember the week after. I saved you when you were sick and drunk at that bar. I caught you as you were hurling into the flowers. I took you to my hotel room and watched you sleep. I watched you sleep all night, beautiful girl. Remember what I told you later? It was even then that I loved you.

"I am here with you now. I will not leave until I can see your beautiful blue eyes looking back at me. It's just like the time that Hyde nearly killed. I wouldn't leave you then. And then I picked you up and carried you to the bathroom because you had to pee. You made the nurse take the catheter out. Do you remember that?"

I see a faint movement in her face. Her mouth is twitching. Is she grimacing, just a little? Then I feel her hand move slightly within mine. Is she squeezing it? She opens her eyes and looks back at me dully. They look half dead, but I don't care. They are open.

"Are you doing your best to remind me of the most humiliating moments of my life?" she asks, softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sweet Jesus! She speaks.

"I got you to respond just now, didn't I?" I ask playfully, hopefully.

She looks away and sighs.

"What am I doing here?" she says, her tone flat.

Flynn joins me at the bed, across on the other side. It is time for the doctor to get to work. But I am not letting go of Ana. I brought her back. I am not leaving her.

"Where do you think that you are, Ana?" he asks cautiously.

"Hospital," she replies indifferently, looking around. "Emergency room, I guess."

"Do you remember anything that happened before you woke up just now?" he asks gently.

She frowns.

"I was looking at Phoebe. She is such a little angel," she says. "Then I looked at Teddy, who looked somewhat less angelic."

"That's called the terrible twos," he says, to try and pick up on her lighter tone.

"Then I looked out the window and saw the lovely silver path," she continues. "It looked so beautiful and peaceful. It looked like it went all the way to the moon. So I followed it . . . But . . . the water was cold. The path didn't go to the moon, did it?"

"No," replies Flynn gently. "You walked into the sound and didn't stop."

"Oh, I was just . . ."

Her voice trails off and she looks away from us. It is difficult to figure out why. Is she embarrassed? Doesn't she remember? Why can't she tell us? Flynn looks at me and indicates that we should not press things at the moment. Okay, so now what?

"Can I go home?" she asks.

I turn to Mother who is shaking her head no. Flynn obviously concurs.

"It is late, Ana," he says. "We don't know how much water you may have swallowed or if you have fully recovered from the shock of the icy water. We will be keeping you overnight."

His statement is definitive.

"I feel fine," she says. "I want to go home. Christian?"

"I think that you should do as the doctor says," I state.

She looks bothered. Then something clicks in her head. She narrows her eyes.

"So Flynn," she says with an edge in her voice. "Since when have you started to work the graveyard shift in the ER?"

His face grows more serious and he looks at me.

"Flynn came because I asked him to, Ana," I answer honestly. "You really scared us tonight. Do you realize that if Sawyer and Taylor hadn't gotten to you so quickly, when they realized that you had walked into the water that you might have drowned? I don't think that you fully realize what you just did."

She stares off into space. I can see that she is struggling inside. She knows that something is wrong, but I suspect that she is afraid if it. Hell, I am afraid of it. Then she looks at us all.

"Phoebe needs me," she says. "She will be hungry soon. She may already be awake. Wait a minute! Who is with the children?"

This is the first time that she has broken out if her almost robotic affect so far this night.

"Gail is with the children," I say soothingly. "Everything with them is fine."

"No, it's not," she insists. "How will Phoebe eat? Grace?"

This is the first time that she has acknowledged that she sees Mother standing behind me. Of course she would call upon her since she is a pediatrician. But Mother doesn't give in.

"Phoebe will be okay, Ana," she replies calmly. "She's old enough to take a little cereal. And she can take a bottle. Remember? I made sure that you stocked a good formula."

Ana now acquires that stubborn look. She doesn't like the idea of bottle-feeding. When she went back to work after Teddy was born, she pumped breast milk for Gail to bottle feed him. He protested mightily in the beginning. But he was so hungry. He had to give in. As far as I know, Phoebe has never had a bottle.

"I want to go home," she insists. "I will sign myself out if I have to."

"No, you won't," replies Flynn evenly. "I am placing you on a 72 hour hold."

"But you said overnight," she shoots back.

"Now I am saying 72 hours," he says. "As your doctor, I am placing you here for observation. You do not remember how it came about that you had to be pulled out of Puget Sound in the middle of the night. I would not be upholding my oath as a physician if I did not keep you here."

"I suppose that you are sending me up to the psyche ward," she says sarcastically.

She has gone sad to angry in a very short span of time. Even I know that this is not good. However, while I agree that she should stay in the hospital for 72 hours, she is not going to the psyche ward.

"I want her to stay in a private room," I say firmly. "We can hire a private nurse to look after her. The cost is no option."

"I know that," replies Flynn. "I am agreeable to that. While she is here we can run some tests and evaluate her."

"She is here right in front of you," Ana interrupts. "Stop talking about me as if I am not here."

"Christian, why don't you two take this conversation over into the conference room," says Mother. "I will stay with Ana."

She looks at Ana warmly and gets a hint of a smile. I kiss Ana's forehead and leave with Flynn.

"Is it good or bad that she doesn't remember what happened?" I ask tensely.

"Bad," he replies seriously. "It means that she was not fully in control of herself. The story of the silver path is no doubt true. It is frightening that she didn't realize that she could drown herself, and even more frightening that she made no effort to save herself when she went under."

"How could her mood switch so quickly from apathetic to furious?" I then ask.

"She is in denial," he answers. "This burst of energy won't last. I predict that she will come down off of this adrenalin high pretty quickly and will return to her former depressed state. This is a complicated disease, Christian. And it is an illness, not a figment of her imagination. We need to do a complete psyche work up and develop a treatment plan, the same way that we would if she had a physical illness that we needed to treat."

"Can she be cured?" I ask.

"When talking about mental illness, it is difficult to look at cures, so to speak" he replies. "But once again, there are many physical illnesses, diabetes and hypertension come to mind, which we cannot cure, but we can effectively treat so that an afflicted person can live a normal, healthy life. We don't think of curing people in a crisis of some kind. We speak of healing them. Now we will set about the process of healing Ana."

"Well, she'll have the best care that money can buy," I say.

"This isn't about money, although it certainly will make things easier" answers Flynn. "We are at the beginning of a long road. But you will need to realize that the road isn't straight nor will the journey be consistently forward. There will be setbacks as well as milestones. The progress will be completely unpredictable, however, I foresee a positive outcome, and not because of all your money."

"Oh?"

"Ana has a very loving support network around her, not just her family, but your staff as well," he replies. "They not only take care of her, they genuinely care for her. Gail Taylor's quiet strength and loving support cannot be bought with any amount of money. When I last spoke with her, Ana frequently referred to her as her anchor."

"What about me?" I ask briefly, bothered that she should characterize Gail in this way.

"Apples and oranges," he replies briskly. "Gail has kept her daily life going for the past month or so since she really started to slide. You are her soul mate, which is an entirely different thing."

"Could Gail have given us a better warning?" I ask.

"Probably not," he answers. "She has been extremely busy. I would say too busy to notice all of the little nuances in her behavior. And she is not trained to recognize and read symptoms. But you missed the symptoms too. And it's not just because of your busy work schedule.

"Ana has been working very hard to conceal the worst of the symptoms, but not on purpose. She has been dodging these feelings of inferiority and unworthiness for years. They have finally come up and slapped her in the face. But she still doesn't want to look at them."

"I guess I can't blame her," I admit.

"You of all people can't blame her," he says honestly. "You spent many years denying your demons and refusing to face them down. But eventually you did and look at the vast improvement in your life. And it was Ana who was mainly responsible for leading you here."

"Now it's my turn to help her," I comment thoughtfully.

"As her husband, lover, and best friend," he replies. "You are critical to her journey back. You can also empathize with her struggles, in a way that most people cannot. However, I don't think that it's a good idea for you to stay with her in the hospital. Especially since she is now awake and talking."

"Why not?" I ask. "If I am critical to her recovery, shouldn't I be with her every minute?"

"No," he says. "It will only make her feel guilty if she thinks that you are putting your life on hold for her. Cut back on your work hours to more spend time with her and be sure to make extra time for the children. She will want that. They will need you more now too. And talk to her about the good times. Remind her of how much you love her every chance you get."

Mother walks out to join us.

"She's asleep," she says. "I'm afraid that she cried after you left. She is very scared right now. And she is worried about the children."

"Would you like to stay until we move her up to her room, Grace?" asks Flynn.

"Yes," answers Mother. "Son, I think that you should go home. I'll stay with Ana. She's pretty mad at you at the moment. I think that it's better for both of you to have some time apart. And you should be with the babies."

"Of course," I reply and realize that I am bone weary.

I walk back to where she is sleeping and kiss her forehead. I see evidence of the tears in her reddened eyes. I hate to leave her.

When I leave the area, I find Taylor waiting for me in the waiting room. He stands as soon as he sees me.

"Sir," he says in his usual professional tone. "Are you ready to go home now?"

I'm too tired to talk, so I nod. We walk out to the parking lot in silence and get into the four by four. It's a silent ride back through the streets that are just beginning to wake up. There is a whisper of light in the east. When we arrive home, I immediately go upstairs to Teddy's room. He is still asleep. Blissfully unaware of the drama that has taken place in the intervening hours.

When I enter my own room, I see Gail holding Phoebe in her arms. The baby is contentedly sucking her bottle. At least Ana won't have to worry about that. Gail looks up at me, but like Taylor, doesn't speak. After a moment she strokes the baby's head.

"May I?" I ask nervously. I have never done this before, even with Teddy.

She smiles and stands up. After I am settled in the chair, she hands me that baby and her bottle and places the burp cloth on my shoulder. Cradling my daughter in my arms, I put the bottle in her little mouth, kiss her little head, and start humming. Phoebe opens her big blue eyes and looks up at me in wonder. It's the first time that I have ever fed her. Gail nods in approval and leaves quietly.

Yes, Flynn is right. This is where I should be. Ana needs to sleep and get over her anger at me. For now, I have to leave her in the care of the doctors. And while I don't have to be sitting here feeding little Phoebe her bottle, it's where I want to be. And in my heart, I know that Ana would want me here. Phoebe continues to gaze up at me. She wants me here too.