Fifty Shades of Post-Partum

Chapter 32: Dawn

For once, I wake up and feel a new clarity in my thinking. There is even a bit of pink dawn left in the sky. I look at the clock on the nightstand and notice that it is seven am. Over on my left, I can see Christian is still sound asleep in the roll away bed that Shonda brought in last night for him.

If he was going to spend another night with me, I didn't want him to spend it in the chair again. And Shonda, who had spoken to Nurse Nora, told me that there was no way in hell that Christian was going to sleep in my bed with me. Well, we had no choice, but to follow her rules. The door to my room does not lock so that I could not lock Shonda out. She had to have immediate access in case I wanted to hurt myself again. And she promised that she would be regularly checking.

After Grace left last night, we sat together on the couch for quite a while. Shonda came in and out to set up the bed, but thankfully didn't linger. After my visit with Teddy, I switched back to the photo album on the iPad filled with the Christmas pictures and flipped through them slowly. There were so many beautiful pictures of the children.

"I'm so glad that they have your hair," I said thoughtfully, as I looked at them.

"Well, I'm glad that they inherited your beautiful blue eyes," he answered. "Not to mention your flawless, pale skin. We are going to have to be very careful with them out in the sun. We won't want any serious burns."

"No we won't," I agreed, wincing as I remember a few of the more painful burns when I was younger. My mother, of course, would slather me up good when we would first do out, but then forget to reapply later.

We sat in silence for a few more minutes, looking at a picture of Teddy and Phoebe together under the tree. And then Christian spoke tenderly.

"Have I told you recently how much I love you?"

"I believe that you tell me every day," I answered lightly.

He reached over, turned my chin so that I was facing him, and looked deeply into my eyes.

"And do you believe me when I say it?" he asked wistfully.

The pain is evident in his voice. For weeks, no months, I have withdrawn from him, feeling unworthy of his love. Yet his relentless patience and devotion have never ceased. I know that. And I know that most women would kill for what I have, not the money or social position, but the faithful, enduring, and deep, abiding love that he gives me.

As the months have passed, it feels as if the distance between us has only widened farther, as I have retreated into my empty shell of despair. I know that he has been struggling all of this time to break through. I wanted right then, so desperately to reach back out to him, but I felt like I didn't p know how anymore. It was like the early days of our relationship, when I didn't know how I could possibly break through the barriers that he had thrown up. Compared with that, this seemed so much more difficult. This time, the barriers were mine.

As I pondered, he never shifted his gaze from my face. It was not a piercing, penetrative gaze, but a searching, yearning gaze, as if he were looking for some little crack in my reserve that would finally permit him to look into my soul. I dropped my eyes, fearful of what he might see. I was deeply frightened that he might witness the darkness of my soul and the fracture of my heart. But most of all, I didn't want him to discover my hopelessness that I might never find my way back to him.

"I love you with all my heart," he prompted me. "I love you more than life itself. Do you still love me?"

"Oh, my God, Christian," I said without even thinking. "It still frightens me to think of how much I love you. I feel guilty about the fact that sometimes I love you more than I love our children. After all that I have put you through, how . . . "

He didn't let me finish my protest. Instead, he closed his mouth over mine and tenderly kissed me. It was a gentle kiss, a sweet kiss, a lover's kiss. It was like a first kiss, filled with desire and yearning, yet tinged with hesitancy and insecurity. I realized at that moment that he was fearful of rejection. Tentatively, I opened my mouth, allowing him access.

He responded to my invitation with a trepidation that I could feel in the way his mouth trembled. As he searched my mouth with his tongue, I sensed a gentleness that was nearly the opposite of the passion with which he delivered our real first kiss more than three and a half years ago. That kiss was a hot, take no prisoners kiss, filled with a ferocity that claimed me. The electricity between us in that elevator had been beyond magnetic. Our bodies hurled themselves against one another violently as he pinned me against the wall.

But with this kiss, the unmistakable longing was transmitted through his right hand, which gently stroked my hair and his left, which held my neck steady. And when he was through, he cradled me in his arms, now deeply breathing, not panting, into my hair. I reached my arms around his back and nestled my head against his shoulder, unconsciously sighing.

"I've missed you," I said quietly.

It was then that I felt the tremble in his chest, as the strangled sob escaped. He tightened his grip on me and I didn't need to look up to know that he was crying.

"I can't lose you," he choked out at last to me. "You must come back to me. My life is nothing without you."

The depth of sorrow in those words and the sheer honesty of their tone finally cut through the layers of my depression, lethargy, and overwhelming exhaustion. I now felt his loss, the empty space in his heart that only I could fill. For the first time in what seemed like forever, I truly heard his words. And I knew that I had not ruined his life beyond repair. I recognized that if I disappeared, rather than freeing him, I would be chaining him to a dark existence as painful as my own.

My strong, beautiful husband, the master of my heart and of the mighty empire that he had acquired through blood and sweat, had only one flaw in his strength and formidable power. It was I, who could make or break him. I remember dimly, those minutes when I thought that I had broken him. When he knelt before me in the position of submissive and how bitter taste of his human weakness had filled my mouth. I had never wanted that kind if power over him.

And yet now, I understood how unwittingly I had acquired it. My own fragile psyche was dragging his into the abyss of my own self-doubt and self-loathing. I remember how determined I was back in those days to drag him up into the light with me. I had fought with his self-loathing and self-destructive instincts.

Now I realized that my former battle had become his. He had every bit as much tenacity as I had. In the end, he had surrendered to me, as now I must surrender to him. I sat up straight and take his face in my hands, even as his eyes were flowing with tears.

"Help me," I said simply. "Christian, please help me."

And with that, we were holding each other and crying together. His tears were those of relief. Mine were those of fear. What if I couldn't do this? I knew then and know now, this morning that I still have a long and treacherous journey. Was I strong enough, even with his love and the love of my family, to face up to the long-buried demons that now threatened to invade my peace of mind.

It was as if they had been buried, but in a rather shallow grave that permitted them to escape. It was as if they had been waiting in the shadows of the sunshine that has so recently defined my life for that moment of weakness when they could assail the walls that I had built up to keep them out. I had retreated from them hiding behind the fog of depression, as if that could stand against them. And then, when my defenses were at their lowest ebb, they swept in and nearly dragged me under.

Their terrible force had finally successfully breached my shaky walls and overwhelmed me. With an awful power, they deceived me with the reflective light of the moon, the deception that the silver path that had called me from my bedroom room that cold night weeks ago, would set me free. Instead, it nearly claimed me into an eternal prison of darkness and despair. And by allowing myself to be dragged there, I would have taken all those that I loved with me.

But this was the moment of the beginning of my redemption. I must rise above my failure and beg the forgiveness of those whom I have hurt so much. And no one more deserved my apology for this unintentionally inflicted pain, than the beloved man whose naked sorrow was now so evident in his eyes. He still hadn't answered me. What should I think now? Had I finally pushed him too far?

"Ana," he said at last. "I have been waiting months to hear those words. Whatever you need, I will give to you. There is no price too great to pay for you to be happy again."

"Thank you," I whispered, and looked at him with longing once again.

He gave me a little smile and then slowly and carefully leaned toward me again. I met him halfway and joined my lips to his, opening my mouth as I did. For several minutes we were lost in each other again. So lost, that we didn't hear the door open.

"Ah-hem," said a familiar voice.

We broke apart and looked up to see Shonda standing there, hands on her hips and smirk on her face.

"Well I hate to break you two up," she said. "But Ana if you are going to that meeting tomorrow, you're going to need a good night's rest."

"Okay," I said guiltily.

"Well, my oh my, but don't you two look like a pair of hormonal teenagers who just got caught making out by her Daddy," she commented. "Now Mr. Christian, I'm sure that you have some old business deal to make tomorrow, so I suggest that you get ready for bed too."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied agreeably.

After she left, we both got up. Since I already had my things out, I went in first to change, brush my teeth, and wash my face while Christian opened his overnight bag. By the time that I was done, he was ready for his turn. When he came out, he settled on my bed next to me.

"That's against the rules, you know," I remarked.

"It's only against the rules if I sleep here," he answered playfully. "I'm just visiting."

Then he put his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder.

"What were you thinking?" he suddenly asked. "While we were sitting there just now looking at each other, your mind seemed to be turning things over."

"That's what I was doing," I replied.

"What were you turning over?"

It was hard for me to answer. I didn't know why, but it was hard to put into words exactly what I had been thinking. But I tried anyway.

"It's hard for me to say really," I said. "You know. There were a lot of thoughts running through my head. I was thinking about how that felt kind of like a first kiss, only you were a lot more gentle this time around."

"It felt like a first kiss to me too," he replied. "It felt like a first kiss after a very long dry spell. Would you have preferred more passion?"

"No," I admitted. "Right now I like your sweet, gentle kisses. I'm afraid that there's not too much passion in me at the moment."

"Well," he said. "I understand that. Let's just say that I think that you are finally reawakening to the more physical aspect of our love. Maybe that's why it felt like a first kiss. I was thinking about how this was the way that the prince must have felt when he kissed the sleeping beauty awake."

"That's very romantic for a megalomaniac billionaire," I comment.

"I was hoping that you would say that," he answered. "I'm kind of aiming for romance right now."

He bent down to kiss me but then broke it off several moments later.

"It's dangerous to kiss you here on the bed," he said. "I might get carried away. We wouldn't want our nurse to catch us in a compromising position."

He hops off the bed and then sits back down on the edge. He picks up my left hand and kisses it. Then he traces the outline of my rings.

"You know these rings say that you're mine," he commented.

Then I smiled and sank back into the pillows. He obediently went over to his own bed.

"Goodnight, love," he said as I turned off the light.

Suddenly, I hear a loud pounding on the door.

"Is you two decent?" calls Shonda.

Startled, Christian leapesout of bed and demands, "Where's the fire?"

"Ain't no fire," says Shonda, as she walked through the door. "Just breakfast. Mr. Sawyer just came back from the Fairmont. Smells mighty good."

I can smell the pancakes and bacon. For the first time, in what feels like a long time, the food actually smells appetizing. Then I remember that this morning, I am going to meet the patients in the therapy group. That catches me up quick and the slight hunger I feel n my stomach is replaced with butterflies.

"Come on, Ana," Shonda coaxes me. "Eat up so you have the strength to face that group later."

"What about me?" asks Christian. "Don't I need my strength to face the world of mergers and acquisitions?"

"I ain't never noticed that you needed any encouragement to eat Mr. Christian," she answers smartly. "But maybe if you get that butt of yours our of bed, Ana here will get up too."

"And maybe if you get lost," he grumbles. "We both will."

With a huff, she turns on heel and leaves the room mumbling about "them ungrateful rich folks." Christian turns back to me.

"Shall we?" he asks, as he holds out his hand.

As he gets up, I realize that he is only wearing his pajama pants so that they hang that way off his hips. I notice that his chest is still looking pretty buff.

"Admiring the view?" he asks teasingly.

"Well, you certainly are in very good shape," I comment, as I get out of bed.

"I've been spending some extra time with Claude recently," he replies.

Suddenly I feel the tears pricking behind my eyes. Extra workouts for Christian have always meant that he is working through his sexual frustration. And that's my fault. He immediately notices and gently grasps my forearms and looks at me kindly.

"Don't, Ana," he says. "Last night was beautiful. Please don't spoil it with regrets for what is passed. It can't be changed. I'm looking forward and you need to also. Let's keep walking towards the light together."

The sweetness ripples through his voice like waves towards a very dry beach.

"Remember how we've chased the dawn so many times," he continues. "I'm looking forward to the time when we do it again. I'm looking forward to all the good things that we are going to share again."

His words soothe me. This is a whole other side of Christian that I haven't seen before. He leans forward and softly kisses my lips and I let him lead me to the table. He opens the lid of the box and serves us both. I notice that he is careful not to load my plate with too much; another indication that he doesn't want to put any pressure on me. As we eat, he tries to distract me by telling me about his day. But seeing that I am still caught up in my thoughts, he changes the subject abruptly.

"I spoke to Chris yesterday," he says. "He and Melissa really want to come and visit. The girls have a three-day weekend coming up and they would like to fly up. They said that they don't have to stay with us if you're not up to it. They would be happy to stay at a hotel. I thought that it would be nice for Teddy to have someone his own age to play with. I'm pretty sure that CJ will love the 'twains.'

"It will give Sophie a break too. She can hang out with the girls. The last time they were together they had a lot of fun. And you've always liked Melissa."

"I'll think about it," I reply. "I would like to see how things go during the next few days. You know, after I go home."

"Ana," he says. You know that you can stay in the hospital for as long as you like. They aren't going to kick you out or anything. It's not that I don't want you home. It's just that you seem to be making some progress for the first time since you've come back."

"I guess," I say uncertainly. "But I really do miss the children and my own bed. I'm not sure that I can't make the same progress at home."

"The choice is entirely up to you," he says. "Whatever you want to do, you have my full support."

He is looking at me so sincerely that I know he is telling the truth. But suddenly he jumps up.

"I need to grab a shower and get dressed," he says quickly. "Taylor will be here soon to pick me up."

It has always amazed me how quickly he can shower, dress, and still come out looking like a male model. On his way out the door, he gives me another quick kiss. It almost feels like he is leaving home for the office, almost, but not quite. I look after him with just a little bit less regret than yesterday. But he does look more relaxed. Shortly after he departs, Shonda walks in with a bag from Walmart.

"Here you go, Ana," she says as she drops it on the bed. "These are some real clothes to wear. Mr. Taylor just dropped them off."

After she sashays out, I look in the bag curiously. It contains a couple of pairs of comfortable sweats, a couple of tee shirts, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. I don't recognize any of the labels, but I figure that that is probably good or maybe bad. Back in the day, I bought my clothing almost exclusively off the Walmart clearance racks. I frown when I look at the size. They are undoubtedly going to be too big, but that's okay. I have lost weight, which is probably normal for someone like me. Taking a deep breath, I head for the shower.

When I return to the room, I find Grace waiting for me.

"My hair is ridiculous," I comment. "It's grown out and has no style."

"Just pony tail it," she advises. "It's better if you don't look too groomed. Actually, you look pretty much the way that you did when I met you. I always admired your ability to carry off that very natural style you have so well. Right now you look pale and tired. And your eyes look sad, but Shonda told me that you had a good night after I left."

"I, I mean we, did," I say shyly. "I think that we are finally finding our way back to each other."

"That's wonderful," she says smiling. "I know that it's progress for you, but I also know how hard it's been on Christian. As a mother, I'm glad to see things improving for him."

"I don't really deserve him," I reply. "I've always felt that he could have done much better."

"Well, he doesn't agree," she answers firmly. "This kind of illness can make or break a marriage. And he's determined to make it. All he wants is for you to get better so that you will be happy again. Besides, did it ever occur to you that if you two had never met, Elliot wouldn't have met Kate and Mia wouldn't have met Ethan. Look at how happy that you've made them."

"I know," I say. "And I don't know why I don't feel happy. I mean, there's nothing happening in my life right now to make me feel unhappy."

"And that's the truest indication that this is the kind of depression that can be felt with by psycho-therapy and drug therapy," she states. "If you really had things to be sad about or even thought that you did, the it would be difficult to uncover the source."

"I guess," I say. "But I'm really scared about going to this meeting."

"Would you like to meet Dr. Riley ahead of time?" she asks. "I know that she would be happy to meet you."

"Okay," I say, feeling even more nervous than before.

Grace goes out to talk to Shonda and then comes back and pats my hand.

"She will be here in about ten minutes."

I sit nervously waiting. I know that the doctor shouldn't make me nervous, but still. I am pretty sure that not only had Charlotte spoken to her, but Grace and Shonda as well. I wonder if Flynn had weighed in as well. Finally the minutes tick by. Grace and I stand as the door opens.

"Carolyn Riley," she says smoothly. "This is my daughter-in-law, Anastasia Grey. Ana this is Dr. Riley."

We shake hands. Dr. Riley seems to notice that I am nervous because she speaks first.

"Do you prefer Anastasia or Ana, Mrs. Grey?" she asks.

"Ana, please," I reply.

"Well, Ana," she says. "That is how I will introduce you. We don't use last names in group. Most of us have a hard time with first names. How are you feeling about coming?"

"Nervous," I admit. "I'm afraid that they won't like me."

"Do you often feel that way when you meet new people?" she asks.

"Yes," I reply honestly. "I guess that you could say that I am kind of shy. But I still want to come."

"Of course you do," she agrees. "And in the beginning, no one is going to expect that you will say too much. You should listen attentively and respectfully. And remember that everyone there is uncomfortable to one degree or another. But they are also there for the same support that you are. No one really wants to be there, but they are all hoping to learn from each other's experiences."

I swallow hard.

"Are you expected to, you know, bare your soul so to speak?" I ask.

"Only as much as you want," she replies. "And only when you are ready."

"Okay," I take a deep breath. "I think that I can do this."

"Good," she says. "And we'll all be there to help you. Grace, can you do me a favor and walk Ana down?"

"Sure," she replies looking puzzled.

Dr. Riley answers her unspoken question.

"If Shonda walks her down then some of the other patients will recognize her," she explains. "Then they will want to know why she isn't in the psych ward anymore. Some of them really do miss her. It would be very awkward for Ana if they found out that they lost her favorite nurse because she was now a private nurse to another patient."

"Did you tell them about me?" I ask, feeling a new anxiety.

"No, I haven't," she answers. "They will meet you when you come in. That's how it works, no prior explanations. But you will have to introduce yourself. They will want to know about you and your husband and children. Think about what you say about that and your job."

"Well right now I'm not working because I am staying home with the kids and I've been sick," I say. "And I guess I could say that my husband owns his own business."

"That sounds good," she replies. "None of them will be interested in exactly what his business is. It's a good thing that you don't look anything like the pictures that they may have seen in the society pages. It could set some of them off. Everyone is very sensitive to what they perceive is judgment by others. They are just as fragile as you are, even if they don't all show it."

"Do I look that bad?"

"Honestly?" she says. "Yes, you do. However, you look perfectly normal for a person who is undergoing treatment for depression. Try to remember that. You are a psychiatric patient who is trying to get well first and foremost. The rest of it is not important. But you may end up talking about your past."

"Better than my present," I say. "I certainly did not grow up with any kind of money. There were times when we were living hand to mouth."

"Okay," she replies. "You probably won't need to go into that kind of detail either. But you're a smart lady. You'll figure it out."

With those words she turns and calls over her shoulder, "See you downstairs."

"Do you feel better?" asks Grace.

"A little," I say. "But I'm still nervous."

"Try not to think about it," she says. "Lets go downstairs."

As we leave the room, I see Sawyer in his position by the door. When we step into the elevator, he is with us, but he is acting like he doesn't know us. I know that he will be shadowing me and staying close by. It makes me feel better to know that he is with me. Leaving the room feels like an awfully big step. I'm longing for its shelter and Shonda's comforting presence. But I also feel a bit guilty because there are other patients who miss her. It doesn't seem fair that I have all of her attention. Grace is watching me closely.

"Don't think about Shonda," she says, having read my mind. "It was her choice to take care of you and her choice to stay."

I give her a slight nod and notice that Sawyer is looking at me. He inclines his head slightly to show me his support. Then the door opens to the first floor and Grace leads me down a hallway to the outpatient area. We pass by offices and a couple of conference type rooms. At last we reach the one at the end of the hallway and she opens the door.