Chapter 44. Aim Your Arrow at the Sky

Life at home as a family of four begins three days after Henry is born. Then there are "newborn photos" on Sunday; they beam in color-coordinated outfits, both Mark and Addison laughing over the fact that this will probably be the last time for quite a while that nice clothes are worn, makeup is done, and hair is shiny and clean.

Climbing the stairs is hell, so Addison limits up-and-down trips at first. Henry's bassinet is in their bedroom, and Mark (with some help from Weiss) brings the changing table and some baby essentials stuffed in storage cubes down, which is helpful. And things are good. She doesn't remember feeling adrenaline – not something unheard of – after Kate was born, but those feelings definitely exist this time. The adrenaline helps carry her through the physical pain, which, like the stairs, is unpleasant. She can't lift anything heavier than Henry, but sometimes even lifting Henry is a challenge (thankfully, Mark does the majority of the lifting, and things feel comfortable for Addison so long as she has a boppy in her lap while she holds and feeds her son, though feeding definitely has its own challenges). She's normally a side-sleeper, but that's not an option because it causes her pain, so she sleeps with two pregnancy pillows on either side to prevent her from rolling over during stretches of sleep. Addison does her best not to utilize her stomach muscles, but getting in and out of bed also hurts (Mark is the lifting MVP for this as well). The discomfort is bearable though since the end result is Henry. She has energy, is happy, loves watching her daughter interact with her son, and she and Mark both agree there really isn't a better smell in the world than a baby's head. They have lost track of how many Henry Head Hits they have taken.

Around the seven-day mark, exhaustion creeps in. Even with her husband and Lauren helping, and even Kate, who is proving to be helpful and if nothing else, has been pretty well-behaved lately, Addison is certain she has never been this tired before. Changes she did not expect start to whisper in behind the exhaustion.

The adrenaline stops. And everything else starts.

-

By the time Henry is two weeks old, the desire to get out of the house fills Addison more. She is still sore, but she is also starting to feel suffocated. It's February though, so it's too cold to take Henry anywhere, and he's still so little. Mark is more than happy to stay home with him though while Addison grabs coffee with Savvy. He tells her to have fun.

"I'm glad we're doing this," Savvy gushes. "It took a lot longer to get you out of the house alone after Kate was born. Yay for second-borns, right?"

"Definitely," Addison responds with a nervous smile. She holds her mug of hot chocolate tighter between her hands.

It is not about birth order. It is more circumstantial than that. She just knows that when Kate was a newborn, she did not want to spend time away from her. It was not a relief to be separated. This time is different.

But it doesn't have to be, she thinks as a mother, as a person, and not as a doctor. I can get through this. The notion rattles through her when she and Savvy part ways. Addison then takes a cab to her two-week appointment with Maggie, an appointment she was able to switch from tomorrow when she sent Maggie a text to curiously see if she had any openings today. Normally, she would bring Mark. And Henry. Maggie will want to see Henry. It is last minute though, she reasons, and she will have a standard six-week postpartum exam in a few weeks anyway. They can come then.

Addison's incision is healing great. Before she is brought back to the exam room, she completes the questionnaire attached to the clipboard so Maggie can review it. She knows what answers will and will not raise an alarm.

-

Mark sighs, trying to mask his disappointment. "I just…if you told me you rescheduled, I could have come. I would have brought Henry. I wanted to be there to support you, Ad."

"The two-week appointment is really just a quick look at the incision though," she says with a small smile etching across her face. "I pretty much went as a formality, since I know it's healing fine. We can all go to the six-week one."

"I thought maybe you could have talked with Maggie about…about how tired you've been, but that you're having a tough time falling asleep."

"We have a newborn, Mark. And healing scar or not, I'm still recovering from major abdominal surgery. Kind of par for the course. But, I…" Addison swallows nervously. Try. Use your words. "Do you have to go back to work next week?"

"I can take more time off if you want. I just figured with Lauren around and Kate at school…" Mark hesitates when she starts to cry. Is that what this has all been about? he wonders. He steps forward, wrapping Addison in a hug. "Addie. Hey, it's alright."

She whimpers into his chest. "You can't leave me alone with him."

Mark hugs her tighter as anxiety flows through him. "Addison, why can't I leave you alone with Henry? Talk to me."

"You're…you're hurting…"

"Oh, shit." He steps back immediately, feeling awful when he realizes he accidentally pressed against her incision scar. "I'm sorry, Red."

"It's okay. I just…I don't feel ready yet."

"Then I won't go back yet. That's fine, Addie. Is that what this has all been about?" Mark asks. "You just…you haven't seemed like yourself lately. What's going on?"

"Do you think I'm a bad mom?"

"Addison, no. You're a great mom. And it's fine if you're not ready for me to go back yet. I'm here for you, okay?"

She opens her mouth, then closes it. Mark finds himself mimicking this action as he tries to think of how to provide her reassurance, but also glean some understanding. Saying I think you need help feels so…intense. And hurtful. Maybe it hasn't reached That Point yet. He would know, wouldn't he?

"I think…is it okay if I just go nap for a bit?" Addison asks.

"Yeah, of course. And I'm here if you need anything."

It does not occur to Mark until later that she did not answer his question.

-

Addison mulls over what to make for dinner while breastfeeding Henry. She is starting to get back into the swing of cooking and other homemaker-due-to-maternity-leave duties. Being productive helps, she determines. If she cannot do this – a word that stretches so much further than she ever thought possible – she might as well make herself useful.

Mark takes a seat next to her. She is holding Henry protectively in her arms, but her gaze is directed out the window. He tries not to make comparisons, but Addison could barely take her eyes off Kate when she was a baby, especially during feedings. It is hard for Mark to wrap his head around it all. Addison is fine when visitors come – Savvy and Weiss, Lauren, her mother, his parents for a few hours – but something fades in her when it is just their little family. Something fades when she is with Henry.

"Addison?"

Much of the past three weeks are a blur for Mark. Addison was up and walking from Day One as recommended, but it's not exactly comfortable, so Mark did the bulk of the housework, lunch packing, and cooking (or takeout) for the first two weeks. He continues to handle most things Henry-related that don't involve feedings. Not that Mark minds – it just means that thinking clearly and making astute observations hasn't always been possible. Having Lauren shuffle Kate to and from school is helpful though, and after-school time involves the four of them, split up with some Addison and Kate one-on-one time. Kate loves her brother, but the transition to having a sibling is not necessarily smooth, so Kate has been clingier lately. This means Addison-Kate Time and Mark-Henry Time in the evening, which is fine, but it's just…not what he expected. Addison's attachment to Kate has seemed to increase, but it does not seem that way with Henry. But then, they've never had two kids before. Maybe this is normal?

"Addison?" He tries again, gently stroking her cheek. "You okay, honey?"

She startles a little at his touch, but snaps her focus back, looking down at the infant pressed to her chest. "Sorry," she whispers.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…I can't do this." She shakes her head, still looking at Henry.

"You can't breastfeed?" He watches her nod, sees the slight lip quiver. "I think you're doing a great job. It was uncomfortable with Kate at first too, remember? But then it got easier."

"This is different," she insists. "I can't."

"Okay. Hey, that's fine, Ad. Whatever you want to do is fine. I can give Henry's pediatrician a call and see what formula she recommends. And actually, he'll be a month old in a little over a week, so we need to get him in for his well-baby check anyway. Classic second kid – with Kate, we would have already had her six-month visit scheduled by now." Mark chuckles, and Addison does grin at this. "I'll call to get it scheduled. And get some info on formula."

She nods. "Yeah, if you could call Doctor Russo, that would be great. And I'm thinking spaghetti for dinner. What do you think?"

"That works for me. Are you sure though? We could always do takeout."

"No, it's okay. I want to make something."

"Addison…are you okay though?" He asks again. "You seem a little sad."

Her head dips lower. Her voice is small and brittle when she speaks. "I don't want you to be disappointed in me."

"About stopping breastfeeding?" Mark touches her shoulder. She twitches a little at the contact, but then, maybe she wasn't expecting it. "I'm not. We both know fed is best. I don't want you to be uncomfortable and in pain. This is the right call. Plus, Henry is such a chill little dude. He just likes to eat. He'll take to formula like a champ."

"Thank you. I might take a quick shower, if you don't mind hanging with him?" Henry has fallen asleep at her breast.

"Yeah, of course. Didn't you…did I dream it or did you shower this morning? Lack of sleep means time is starting to have no meaning now."

"I did, but, you know. Spit-up in my hair and lots of other fun post-birth things," Addison says. Both are true, but it is not the complete truth. She showers a lot now. Silence. Aloneness. And the chance to cry without being heard.

-

It is not all terrible. Pain is pain, so it should not matter, but Addison knows it could be worse. Many mothers have worse anxiety. Addison has not fantasized about running away. Her stomach aches when Henry cries, but she has never felt a desire to throw him across the room. She does not want to hurt herself and she does not have a Plan.

Her daughter loves her. Kate is good and kind and funny. She still wants to read with her mother every night.

Her husband loves her. Mark gets her flowers for Valentine's Day, even though Addison insists he doesn't need to get anything. They're still in newborn fog. They exchange quick good morning and good night kisses, and sometimes the kisses are a bit longer, but she pulls away first. It's not you, she tells Mark, continuing to cushion herself between pillows. I'm just so tired and sore. Mark says he understands. He handles nighttime feedings and any of Henry's other needs throughout the night. Mark isn't always in their bed, because the only things Henry likes more than food are being held and rocked, so Mark will usually just walk around with him. He brings Henry back to their room once he's asleep; the bassinet is still on Mark's side of the bed (it was easier this way at first because of the lifting thing) and Addison thinks maybe they should move it to her side, at least once in a while, but Henry seems happy where he is. So she does not ask. And when Mark is in their bed, he is so far away. That one is on her though, she knows.

And Henry's love for his mother? It is hard to tell.

She loves Henry. Once Mark drifts off into an exhausted sleep (he is doing so much more than she is, so of course she feels guilty about this), Addison watches the languid rise and fall of her son's chest. She wouldn't do that if she didn't love Henry and want him in her life. She knows this. But love and attachment aren't the same thing, and what she feels just isn't the same as what she felt for a newborn Kate. There was joy with her daughter, like Addison had discovered another color hanging off a rainbow or something. And even though she hides it well, if she feels this way, how could Henry possibly love her back? Why would he even want to?

It all just hurts.

-

"He turns five weeks old tomorrow," Mark says one evening after dinner. Addison is washing the dishes, even though he told her he does not mind doing them. Henry dozes in his bassinet in the living room. Kate is upstairs getting ready for bed, and even if she were in the kitchen right now, she would probably be oblivious to whatever it is Addison is going through. Addison keeps whatever she is feeling at bay in the presence of their daughter. Her face lights up around Kate. Mark wishes he could say the same for Henry. And himself, sometimes.

There is an edge in Addison's voice when she answers. "I know he does."

"Oh. I…I wasn't saying that you didn't. I'm just saying."

Henry starts to cry. Mark decides to give it a minute. Sometimes in the evening when Henry isn't hungry and doesn't need a diaper change, he'll fuss, but if Mark waits a minute or two, he'll drift back to sleep. He seems to cry more than Kate did at this age, but he settles much, much quicker. He is a happy little guy, and isn't too demanding as far as infants go.

"Do I have to get him or can you do it?" Addison asks. She flinched as soon as their son's tiny cries were heard.

Mark promised himself he would be gentle, that he wouldn't snap, that he wouldn't say anything cruel or express just how God damn frustrated he is. Easier said than done though.

"Have to get him? Are you fucking serious, Addison?"

She curls her fingers around the edge of the counter. She studies the soap bubbles popping in the sink. "It was just a word slip. I didn't…I didn't mean it that way."

"Addison. This is our son. Our son. He's perfect and incredible and he's just…this is our baby. Henry needs both of us, not just me. Why don't you want to spend time with him and take care of him?"

"I don't know." It is the only sound now. Henry has fallen back to sleep.

Mark takes a deep breath to calm himself. This isn't her fault. You need to remember that. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get upset. I love you and I know you're doing your best," he gently touches her elbow. "But I think we need to -"

"Don't touch me," she snarls, jerking away.

"What is wrong with you?" Mark hisses, keeping his voice low, but he might as well be shouting. He was sorry, and he is sorry, but irritation rises again. "I'm not trying to mount you on the kitchen table, Addison. I just…" he wrestles against the tightness filling his throat. "I miss you. Maybe after Kate is asleep we can watch a movie or something? Or talk? Addison…I don't think you're okay. I'm worried about you."

"It's just baby -"

"Don't say it's baby blues. It's not. We need to make an appointment with Maggie to get you some help."

"No, I don't -"

"Mommy?" Kate calls out as she comes back into the kitchen. She has not noticed their argument, luckily. They have gotten remarkably good at whisper fights in the past few years whenever a disagreement arises.

"Hey, sweetheart," Addison answers. Please don't need -

"I'm ready to read now," Kate says brightly. She has a Madeline book in her crossed arms. "I put my jammies on, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and I gave Henny-Penny a kiss. He's still sleeping. Are you coming?"

"Kate…" Addison swallows heavily. It never, ever stops. "Is it okay if Daddy reads with you instead?" I just want to lie down. I can't -

"But you always read with me," Kate says, still pleasant, but a little whine starting to creep into her voice. "Come on."

"Please not tonight, Kate. I'm so tired right now." Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Oh," Kate replies. Now she understands. "I'll read to you then, Mommy. We didn't get to play together today and I want -"

"Kate!" Addison slams a dish down in the sink. It clatters and spins. "I can't read with you tonight. I can't. Stop asking." She turns back to the sink quickly so she doesn't have to see the look on her daughter's face.

Kate holds her book tighter. Her lower lip trembles. She wants to run out of the room, run far away, but then Daddy's arms are around her, picking her up and carrying her upstairs. Her book is wedged between his chest and hers, probably getting bent, but she doesn't care because it's a stupid book now. A stupid-stupid-stupid book.

Mark sets Kate down on her bed, but immediately cuddles her into his lap when, understandably, she bursts into tears. The book falls to the floor.

"What did I do wrong?" Kate hiccups.

"Nothing," Mark answers, taking a shaky breath. "Buddy, you didn't do anything wrong. Mommy just isn't feeling well, and you know how sometimes when you're not feeling well you can get a little grumpy? That's all. Mommy just -"

"You should not have promised." Kate is still sobbing, but manages to shoot him a withering look. "You said you and Mommy would love me and Henry the exact same."

"We do, Kate."

"Mommy doesn't. She doesn't love me and she doesn't love my brother."

Mark is glad Kate's head is buried beneath his chin so that she doesn't see when a tear slips down his cheek. "I know it…I know it might feel that way, but it's just not true, Katiebee. Your mommy loves you and your brother. She's just having a bad night, that's all. How about I read a book with you and stay until you fall asleep? Tomorrow will be better."

"I want you to stay, but I don't want to read. I don't want to read ever again."

-

Mark sleeps in the living room that night, sprawled out on the sofa while Henry dozes nearby. Addison doesn't want him in their room, anyway. By the time he came down from the third floor, the door to their bedroom was closed.

He sends out a variety of Bat-Signals before going to sleep though, and repeats the details in his head at various points throughout a mostly sleepless night. Savvy is coming. She will bring her kids. Lauren, who has been given a CliffsNotes version of what is going on, will take Kate and the twins to school. Savvy will stay and watch Henry. Savvy knows the full version now, and will spend the next few days privately wondering what it was that she missed. Then Mark will take Addison to see Maggie. Maggie will have a consulting psychiatrist present.

Mark looks over at Savvy. His expression is troubled. They are standing over Addison. The room is still dark, because the drapes are pulled shut. There is never light anymore. It is not going well. Addison started bawling as soon as Mark told her why Savvy is here and where they are going.

"You need to get out of bed. Please, honey. Savvy is going to watch Henry for us. We need to go see Maggie. We just want to help you."

"I d-don't want to go," Addison is still crying, quieter now, and all Mark wants to do is give her a hug, but he knows the gesture will not be well-received. "I already – I already have a follow-up next week."

Mark sighs. "I know you don't want to go, but you have to. You're not well, Addison. And that's not your fault and I'm not blaming you, but you need -"

"I hate you," she whimpers.

Savvy inhales sharply and her eyes widen in shock. "Addison."

"It's fine, Sav," Mark shakes his head at her, and then faces his wife again. She won't look at him though. "You wanna hate me? Fine. Hate me in the car. Right now Savvy is going to help you out of bed and help you get dressed. This isn't a choice. Get up." This time, Addison does make a move to wiggle out of bed, and Savvy steps in to assist.

"Fine. I'll go. But, Mark -"

"This isn't just about you anymore. Your daughter cried herself to sleep in my arms last night because she thinks you don't love her anymore. She thinks you don't love Henry, either. And honestly? I can see why she thinks that. So don't tell me you're okay. You're not."

Addison turned away from her daughter yesterday so she would not have to see the devastation on Kate's face after snapping at her. Mark does the same now. He leaves the room before he can survey the extent of the damage his words may have caused.

-

Mark raises his head when he hears the muffled scrape of a door and squeak of Maggie's shoes. Sensible shoes. He thinks about how many times Maggie teased (or admonished) Addison about her choice of footwear while pregnant. Happier times.

"Hey," Mark greets quietly. There is no movement behind Maggie, so clearly Addison and Doctor Castillo – the psychiatrist – are still talking. Mark was not part of any of it, which was not his choice.

"Will you stay with me?" Addison asked when he and Maggie walked with her to Doctor Castillo's office. Mark felt a shudder move through his heart when he realized this question was directed to Maggie, not him.

"So, I'm sure you already know," Maggie begins. "Addison has Postpartum depression. Doctor Castillo is still talking with her, but she put an order in for Zoloft. And Addison has agreed to weekly appointments with a therapist. I'm about to go pull some really unethical doctor, I-know-a-guy strings and get the prescription so you don't have to wait in line, but first, Addison wants you to know that -"

"She can't talk to me about what she wants me to know?" Mark interrupts. He sighs. "Sorry. I didn't mean…please go ahead."

"She's not a danger to herself or her son. That's my assessment, Doctor Castillo's assessment, and also what Addison is feeling. She wants you to know that. There are a lot of other things she wants you to know too, but this is…this is just where she's at right now. It's going to take time. You need to be patient. The medication will help – both with the depression and hopefully with the anxiety – and so will therapy. It's just not going to happen overnight."

Mark just needs to say it aloud, to test the weight of it. "Addison has Postpartum depression. How…"

"It doesn't come from a single cause. But from an emotional perspective…she lost her father recently. Her labor wasn't what she expected it to be and she was really scared for most of the procedure. She's always been a worrier, but she's exhausted and overwhelmed now, so that makes her feel like she's failing her son – and Kate. And you. Those things don't help, but even without them, PPD can just happen. And hormone changes -"

"I know all that. I meant 'how' more in…" he shakes his head. "Never mind. It's just…hard to believe this is the same woman who was in tears before you wheeled her down for a C-section because she wanted to do skin-to-skin with her son. And now she can barely look at him and barely touch him. She doesn't want to connect with him."

"You know this isn't the same woman, Mark. Not right now."

"I know. I just…she used to talk to me. Even though it's hard for her to ask for help or admit when she's in pain, she'd try. She told you about her dad. I know that…I know this is depression, not bursts of normal grief, but she let me help her and hold her and…" Mark trails off, redness settling in his cheeks.

"I know. It's not that she doesn't want to talk to you though. She's hurting and can't find the words yet. The fact that she loves you so much…I imagine that makes you the person she's struggling the most to share this with."

-

"Addison?" Mark says. Her prescription is nestled in a cup holder between them. She already took a pill, quietly telling him there doesn't seem to be any point to waiting until this evening or tomorrow morning. "I'm sorry for how I acted and what I said to you – both this morning, and last night. Especially this morning though. You're a good mom. I know you love your kids. You didn't deserve to hear that from me. I'm really sorry."

"Me too," she replies softly. She does not elaborate. Not yet. She can't. "Did Maggie talk to you?"

"She did. But I'm hoping…I'm hoping that you'll talk to me, too."

Addison closes her eyes, and leans towards the window, forehead pressing to the cold glass. "I just want to go home and lie down. Please not right now."

When then? he thinks desperately.

-