AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two chapters in two days?! Woohoo! I actually had half of Ch8 written shortly after posting Ch7 last night. Kinda makes up for the long wait after posting Ch6. And this one is slightly longer than usual, too! Actually, I think it's slightly longer than Ch7 was!
After posting Ch7 here and on AO3, I got a few reviews/comments where y'all are like "Yep, Spence has PPD. Poor him." and such. I found it hilarious that y'all could recognize the signs in him. If I had found a similar fic before doing my research on PPD and PPA, I wouldn't have known.
Anyway, here's the next chapter!
A few hours later, Derek left Michaela with Fran to go check on Spencer. He'd let the younger man sleep for a couple hours, knowing he'd needed it. But he also knew Spencer needed to eat and his mama had just finished making dinner for them. And he wanted to talk to Spencer alone for a minute. Because what he'd come home to had worried him and he was afraid that Spencer losing his composure so severelywas the culmination of everything Spencer had been through the last few weeks. He'd waited to see if Spencer would be okay on his own but, clearly, that wasn't going to happen. He didn't want Spencer to suffer in silence and, much as Spencer might not like it, they needed to find help.
"Spencer," he called as he settled beside his sleeping boyfriend. He reached out and ran his hands through Spencer's hair. "Time to wake up, pretty boy."
Spencer's eyes fluttered open but they didn't meet Derek's. Instead, he stared ahead though he seemed to be looking through everything, not really focusing.
"Hey, Mama made dinner," he said, moving his hand to run down Spencer's arm before gently clasping his hand around Spencer's; Spencer didn't move to grasp his in return. "Spencer?"
"M'not hungry," Spencer mumbled, tugging his hand away and burrowing deeper into the blankets. "Lemme go back to sleep."
"Come on, pretty boy, you need to eat something. And Michaela will need to be fed soon now that she's feeling better," Derek reasoned, placing his hand on Spencer's shoulder atop the blanket instead.
"Give her a bottle."
Okay, that was definitely not what Derek was expecting. Now that he'd gotten used to the pumping and was making enough to have enough extra bottles in addition to whatever Michaela ate during the day, Spencer had seemed to settle into his role as Michaela's primary food source. He always made a fuss about the "proper" way he liked doing it – with Michaela's skin to his and covered with her blanket. Suddenly he wanted no part in that?
"Spencer," Derek said cautiously, wriggling down to lie beside his boyfriend though Spencer's eyes remained closed and he didn't move any closer. "What's bother you, pretty boy?" he asked softly, draping his arm over Spencer though the smaller man still didn't move closer. "You've been so at ease with feeding her now that you're producing enough milk. Why do you not want to feed her all of a sudden?"
Spencer opened his eyes to glare at Derek and for a second, the older man was afraid he'd get a repeat of the other day when Spencer had snapped at him despite his anger having mellowed out recently.
"Because," Spencer snapped then sighed as the anger fled and he just seemed… defeated. "It's my fault her stomach hurt and then it was my fault she suffered for three hours."
"It wasn't your fault, Spencer," Derek said, brushing his fingertips across Spencer's cheek. Still no reaction.
"Yes it is! The only thing she eats is my milk. She hasn't had a problem before so it's something I did. Until I know what it is to stop doing it, I shouldn't feed her again." With a sigh, Spencer wriggled further into the blankets.
"Okay, there are a few flaws in that plan, pretty boy," Derek said not unkindly. "First, all we have is bottles of your milk. Second, it might not have been your milk that did it in the first place. I did a little research while you were sleeping in case that happened again and you know what I found?" Spencer remained silent but he continued anyway. "Babies have immature digestive systems. It's not unusual for their food to move too quickly and not break down fully. It might not have been what she ate but how fast her body processed it."
Spencer's brow furrowed in thought and he slowly pushed the blanket down a bit so he wasn't so hunched up in it, blinking at Derek. "How did I not know this? I know everything."
Derek chuckled. "Have you even had a reason to look up facts on babies?"
"No," Spencer sheepishly admitted after a pause.
"See? And we didn't have the chance to learn beforehand like most parents. I'm sure if you knew before her birth that you were going to be a parent, you'd have read anything you could get your hands on and you'd be a pro," Derek said, tone warm and soothing. "And you know what?" When Spencer hesitantly met his eyes, Derek smiled affectionately and tentatively tugged him closer, pleased when he didn't resist. "I think you're doing just fine despite not knowing much yet."
Instead of being happy and believing him (and, really, Derek should have known not to expect such an easy, movie worthy wrap up), Spencer huffed though he didn't pull away. "No, I'm not," he said. "Derek, I let her cry for three hours because I didn't know what to do! I'm afraid of being alone with her but I told you to go because I wanted to show you and myself I could be a good parent but I can't!"
"Why are you afraid of being alone with her?" Derek asked, genuinely concerned. Spencer didn't even see any mocking in his tone like he was afraid he'd get if he ever admitted his fears.
"Because," he sighed. "I haven't been since she was born. At the hospital, I had Melanie. When we got home, I had you and then your mother got here. I haven't been alone with her – just she and I – since she was born. I thought I could handle it because we'd been doing okay with her with your mom here and I thought I'd know what to do but I… She started crying and I couldn't…" He took a shuddering breath and rubbed at his eyes.
Deciding that, for now, trying to convince Spencer he was doing a good job was only going to upset him until he wanted to believe he was doing okay, Derek changed the subject. "Spencer," he said cautiously. "I want to talk to you about something but I want you to know I don't think any less of you for this and I only say this out of concern."
Confusion flashed across Spencer's face but he nodded, albeit hesitantly.
"I think this isn't just the usual postpartum stuff," he said, watching Spencer's eyes shift away as his boyfriend began to block him out and he hurried to continue. "If it was, you would be feeling better than you are by now. I think maybe… maybe this could be-"
"Don't say it," Spencer whispered. "Please. I can't be depressed. I already have to worry about inheriting my mother's schizophrenia. The idea of having any mental illness-"
"But it's not an illness," Derek hurried to counter. "Postpartum depression won't last forever. You'll get help and even though it might take time, you'll be yourself again. Don't try to tell me you haven't thought about it."
Spencer bit his lip and turned his face into his pillow with a sigh. After a slight hesitation, he nodded. "I did," he mumbled.
This was it. He could tell Derek everything right now. Derek loved him and cared about him. He wouldn't think less of Spencer if he knew what he'd been thinking, right? And Derek was already sure something was wrong with him; that's why he was suggesting they get help. So what harm could it do if Derek knew a little bit more.
"I wished she wasn't born," he mumbled, unable to meet Derek's eyes.
"What?" There was no shock in that single word like Spencer had been anticipating. Instead, he heard genuine confusion.
"I wished she hadn't been born," he said, pulling his face from his pillow though he still couldn't look at Derek. "Earlier. She'd been crying so long and I couldn't help and then you came in and just fixed it so easily and I felt like I didn't deserve to be a parent. Or that Michaela deserves someone better than me. I might have thought it would be easier if she hadn't been born. It was only for a second and then I felt awful about it. What kind of parent doesn't want their child, Derek?"
"Oh, pretty boy, come here." Derek gently tugged Spencer fully into his arms, securing them firmly around the smaller man. "I know you love her. I know if you knew what was hurting her, you'd have fixed it in a second. Just because something gets rough and you think you're an awful parent does not mean that your baby didn't deserve to be born to you. And it doesn't make you a horribly person for thinking it. You were stressed and tired and I'm sure worried as hell for her, right?"
Spencer nodded against his chest. "She wouldn't stop screaming and I didn't know what to do… I just wanted to make it better. I love her so much."
"I know. Don't feel bad for thinking what you thought. I still think it's just depression and if you ask for help and it turns out you really do have it, they can help you feel better. I'm sure those thoughts will go away," Derek assured, giving him an affectionate squeeze.
Spencer sighed and nodded. "That makes sense. As much as I hate to admit that I might be sick in some way, I can't keep going on this way. I'm afraid of being alone with my own baby and the other thoughts I sometimes have scare me…"
"Do you want to talk about any of it?" Derek asked quietly, afraid that Spencer would shut him out again. If he'd only been communicating with Derek more (and Derek could have pressed him sooner; would have, too, if he'd known it was this bad), maybe he wouldn't have gotten so depressed.
Spencer was silent for a moment and Derek almost thought he wouldn't share but then he finally began speaking in an almost a whisper, everything spilling out with no hope to stop it.
"Even if I know you and Fran are just in the other room, when you leave me alone with her, I get scared that she'll stop breathing and that you'll think it was my fault and hate me. I get so scared I can feel myself trembling and then I worry that I'll drop her and she'll get hurt. I'm terrified of letting Clooney anywhere near her even though he's never once shown aggression toward her and we agreed to let him get to know her. I can't be in the kitchen with her when you cook because the knives frighten me!" he growls, frustrated at his own irrational fears. "I get so anxious and feel I have to check on her every second she's away from me. When I do, I have to make sure I can hear her breathing and see her chest moving. Sometimes I have to touch her to feel it! Or my own heart races and my brain cycles through everything that could kill her in her sleep and then I have to check her blanket is far from her face and- and-" He cut himself off, panting and gripping Derek's t-shirt in shaking fists. "I know something is wrong, Derek. I know it…"
"Sounds like anxiety in addition to depression," Derek murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into Spencer's back. "I'm glad you finally shared with me, Spencer. I know we'll get through whatever this is, okay? I know this scares you but you know what? Before all of this got to you, you were a natural with her. I remember the day she was born when I brought your things to her that evening. She started crying while Garcia was holding her and you were right there to take her and figure it out. You were calm and collected and… Hell, you were Super Mom!"
Instead of reacting to the part about knowing what to do right away, Derek was mildly surprised when Spencer snorted and asked "Super Mom? I'm not a female, Derek."
"No, but you know what I mean," Derek said, laughing.
"That reminds me," Spencer said thoughtfully. "When she first started crying earlier, I was trying to shush her and let her know I was there to help. I started to say daddy then realized we never discussed what she will eventually call us. We should be using those terms in reference to ourselves and each other when speaking to her."
Derek shrugged the best he could lying down with Spencer in his arms. "What do you want her to call you? I'm totally okay with female pronouns if you want," he added with a smirk.
Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Technically I did give birth to her. And it's not uncommon for some male carriers to use feminine pronouns though it's still widely criticized especially with women who feel male carriers are taking something from them."
"Don't think about what others will think," Derek said. "I will gladly call you my baby's mother if you want and I don't care what people think of us doing so. But if you want to stick with male terms, we should figure out who's going to be daddy and what the other should be."
"No matter which I choose, you will be daddy," Spencer said. And he realized that, even though he had almost called himself daddy earlier, that term just felt more right on Derek than on himself.
"Okay," Derek said with a smile. "What do you want to be called then? Mommy? Papa?"
Silent for a moment, Spencer shrugged. "Technically, I am her mother," he said as if that explained his decision.
Laughing, Derek shook his head in amusement. He was almost certain he knew what Spencer was choosing but he still needed the other man to say it. "So… Are you gonna be Mommy then?"
Unable to help the smile at Derek's laugh (because Derek smiling always made him smile), Spencer nodded. "Yeah. It doesn't weird me out to use female pronouns in relation to myself being the one that gave birth to Michaela."
"Good." Derek kissed his forehead then gently pulled away. "Come on then. Let's go eat and you can feed Michaela. Tomorrow, we can go see your doctor and help you with the postpartum stuff, okay?"
Spencer nodded and eagerly followed his boyfriend out of the bed, feeling a lot more like himself now that he'd shared how he felt with Derek. He could do this. Derek had been right. In the hospital that first day, he'd been able to do it and it had felt right and he wanted that part of himself back. He knew it'd take a bit of time but they would get there.
~oOoOo~
The next morning, Spencer called his doctor, relieved to find that he had time in the afternoon to see Spencer. They explained to Fran what they thought was happening with Spencer and where they were going that afternoon. She'd expressed sorrow she hadn't been able to tell so she could help but they assured her there hadn't been anything they could have done to help Spencer. He needed medical help with this even though talking to Derek about it all the night before did make him feel better. So Fran readily agreed to look after Michaela for the afternoon while they went to see Spencer's doctor.
"Do you want me to come with you or wait outside?" Derek asked as he pulled into the parking lot of the clinic Spencer's doctor worked from.
"He's going to ask me questions about the things you already know and then he'll want to take blood to test for other illnesses that could be affecting my moods. It will take a bit of time and likely be boring in the beginning. While they wait for the blood, I'll be coming out with you anyway. Then we can go in together when he's ready to discuss what I can do," Spencer explained as they exited the car.
Derek immediately slipped one of Spencer's hands into his as they walked, giving it a reassuring squeeze that made the younger man smile back at him. "What you can do? Isn't it obvious? He'll give you something to take to make you feel better, right?"
"Most likely, yes, but there's more to it than that," Spencer said, slipping into the building when Derek held the door for him then lowering his voice when in the quiet atmosphere of the waiting room.
Derek nodded, though he was a bit confused, and wrapped his arm around Spencer's waist as they stepped up to the reception desk.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the twenty-something young woman with dark hair pulled into a ponytail greeted. Derek was slightly surprised to find her tone wasn't forced. She genuinely seemed happy. "What can I do for you?"
"I have an appointment with Dr. Jones," Spencer said.
The receptionist – Derek noticed the small placard on the counter said "Megan" - began typing at her computer. "Name?"
"Spencer Reid."
More typing. Then Megan grinned. "Ah, yes, here it is. I think he's still with someone. If you want to have a seat, we'll get you when he's ready."
They both nodded and Spencer led them to an empty corner, settling in one chair while Derek took the other. He immediately began fiddling with the hems of his sweater.
"Hey," Derek said softly, gently grasping Spencer's hands. "It'll be okay."
"I know," Spencer whispered. "But…" He sighed and sat straighter, dropping his hands into his lap. "I know the few options I'll have. He'll either want to give me something and I'll have to stop feeding Michaela, he'll want me on something and I'll be able to continue feeding Michaela but with the chance of the drugs getting to her through my milk, or I can not take anything at all and continue feeding her. I don't want to stop feeding her but I know I can't go on this way without help. But the thought of hurting her if I continue to feed her while taking whatever medication he wants me on scares me."
Derek frowned thoughtfully, staring down at his own hands for a moment before looking back up at Spencer. "That last one really isn't a choice, is it? I mean, if we thought you would be okay without help, we wouldn't be here."
Spencer nodded. "True. That leaves either not feeding her myself or taking the risks and feeding her while on medication."
"Can you do that?" Derek asked. "Feed her while taking medicines, I mean."
Spencer shrugged. "I don't know. It depends on the specific medication and the dosage he wants me on. Some might not leave enough traces in my milk to affect her. If they do, any side effects she'll feel should be mild."
"What about not feeding her so you can take the medicines he wants? Would you be okay with that?" Derek asked.
This time, Spencer was quiet for a few seconds longer as he thought about it. Then he shook his head, meeting Derek's eyes with a hopeless expression that made the older man want to pull him into an embrace.
"No," Spencer admitted on a whisper. "She's still so young and so little for her age, likely because she'd been born small. She needs my milk to gain the weight she should and it contains antibodies and white blood cells and other nutrients for her immune system, nutrients for her brain, eye, and immune system development… And… I like the closeness with her. I won't be able to do this forever and if I have to stop early because there's something wrong with me-"
"Hey, there isn't anything wrong with you, pretty boy," Derek said, reaching over to grasp one of Spencer's hands. Spencer grasped his hand tightly in return.
He took a deep breath and nodded. "My doctor will go over all of this with me," he said. "He'll know what we can do."
"Spencer Reid?" a nurse called.
They both looked up to see a different young woman standing near the reception desk. When they stood, she smiled over at them.
"The doctor is ready to see you. He's waiting for you in his office," she said, gesturing for Spencer to follow her.
"Good luck, pretty boy," Derek murmured, kissing Spencer's cheek before letting the younger man go.
When his boyfriend was out of sight, he settled back into his seat and pulled out his phone, intending to text his mother to update her and to see how their daughter was doing. He'd just set his phone aside and was leafing through a Homes & Gardens magazine (for the house styles for his renovating, he told himself) when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Surprised his mother had responded so quickly, he pulled it out.
Instead of his mother, he saw he had a text from Garcia.
[Text message received from Penelope Garcia at 2:20pm] Hey, I was just wondering if you and Reid were up for dinner tonight? Unless the team has to leave on a case before tonight.
Dinner with their BAU family did sound like a good idea. They hadn't seen the rest of their team much since Michaela's birth. And it might actually do Spencer some good to get away from the baby for a night and be himself for a few hours.
[Text message sent to Penelope Garcia at 2:22pm] That sounds like a good idea. I'll ask Spencer if he feels up for it though. Let you know later.
He returned to his his magazine for several minutes before he felt his phone vibrating again. Garcia asked how Spencer was doing. After a moment's hesitation, he explained where they were and why. It felt a little wrong to be sharing something so big about Spencer without his boyfriend's consent but he'd take any anger the younger man felt toward him if it meant Spencer would get their team's support through this.
As expected, Garcia's reaction had been sadness that Spencer was suffering in any way and she asked if there was anything they could do for him. Derek explained that no, there wasn't, but if Spencer was up to it, that dinner with their team away from the baby might do him some good. Garcia promised to do her best to keep the team home for the night but she made no promises. Derek understood, of course. Their job was very unpredictable.
Fifteen minutes after he'd disappeared, Spencer was returning to sit beside him. He offered Derek a small smile then he chuckled when he saw the magazine Derek had just tossed aside.
"Homes & Gardens?" he asked.
"For my remodeling," Derek defended, puffing his chest though he couldn't keep from grinning. Spencer's smile always did that to him.
"Mhm, if you say so," Spencer teased, lips still curled up into a small smile when he settled back into his seat.
"I say so," Derek huffed, still smiling as well. "So how did it go?"
Spencer shrugged. "I told you. We just talked about everything I already shared with you. He took a little blood and now we wait."
Derek nodded and idly looked around the waiting room as if that would make the doctor appear sooner. "Oh!" he said, pulling out his phone to look at the conversation with Garcia. "Garcia asked if we wanted to have dinner with the team tonight. You know, unless they get called away. You feeling up for it? It's just a couple hours and it might do you good to be away from Michaela for a little bit."
Spencer's eyes went from Derek's to Derek's phone then his own lap as he sucked his lower lip between his teeth. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "The thought of being away from Michaela makes me feel guilty. I know you mother can take care of her, but… I haven't been away from her since she was born. She's only a little over two weeks old. I feel like I shouldn't be away from her yet."
"It's only a couple hours," Derek repeated. "Two tops. We haven't seen them much since Michaela was born."
"Do you want to go?" Spencer asked.
"I do. But I won't force you and I'll do what you feel comfortable with," Derek assured.
His answer made Spencer glare down at his lap. "So if we don't go, I'm the bad guy."
"Spencer," Derek admonished. "They'll understand. You know they will."
Spencer sighed and remained silent for several minutes. Derek had thought he was done with that topic and had pulled out his phone to play a game while they waited when Spencer finally spoke.
"Okay."
"What?" he asked, blinking at his boyfriend.
"Okay," Spencer repeated. "We can go. I do agree that it might be nice to be me without the baby for a little while. And I can always text your mother to check on her if I need to reassure myself she's okay without me. But if I say we need to go because I need to be with her, we go, okay?"
Derek immediately nodded. "Of course. I understand."
Spencer smiled softly and nodded. "Okay. Then we're going."
"Awesome!" Derek quickly typed a message to Garcia to let her know Spencer was on board with it.
"Derek," Spencer said quietly when he'd slipped his phone back into his pocket. The quiet, slightly fearful tone of his voice immediately had the older profiler on edge.
"Spencer? Something wrong?" he asked, reaching over to slip his arm around Spencer's shoulders as best as he could with the chairs' arms between them.
"I've been thinking," Spencer said slowly as if choosing his phrasing carefully. Knowing Spencer, he probably was. "There's something that worries me – and not because of any illness I may or may not have," he quickly added. "I've been worried about this for a long time and now that Michaela's here, it scares me even more."
"Okay," Derek said slowly, not fully understanding what Spencer was trying to say.
Spencer took a deep breath, reaching up to grasp the hand on his shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze to reassure himself Derek was there and loved him and he could tell the older man anything safely.
"What if," he said slowly then shook his head. He didn't like the way that phrasing reminded him of the frightening thoughts he'd been having. "I'm still young enough to develop schizophrenia," he said instead. "Like my mother. And if I do… I don't want Michaela to have to be like me, to have to grow up quickly because I can't…" He took a deep, shuddering breath and squeezed Derek's hand harder.
"Hey, hey, Spencer, look at me," Derek said softly, waiting patiently for the other man to meet his eyes. When he did, he continued in a calm tone. "If you do become like your mother, Michaela won't have to grow up like you did. You had to because your dad wasn't around and your mom needed help. The difference between you and your mom is that I'm not going anywhere. Okay? If that does happen to you – and I don't think it will – she will still have me to help you. That won't become her problem to take care of."
"What if it skips me and she gets it?" Spencer whispered, tears filling her eyes. "Derek, I can't watch two people I love lose themselves like that. She's my daughter and I will always love her but I can't… can't watch her..."
"Spencer, listen to me," Derek said, a bit more harshly than he meant to but it had the desired effect of getting his boyfriend's attention. "I don't know how schizophrenia and genetics works but I feel like, if you don't get it, she won't. Besides, she's less than a month old. Don't worry yourself over things that won't happen for twenty years – if it'll happen at all."
Spencer sniffled then took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded. "You're right. If it happens, it won't happen until she's a young adult. It will always scare me until she passes that window without a break but… But you're right." He sighed deeply as if letting go of his emotions, then leaned toward Derek around the arms of the chairs.
They sat in silence for a little while until a nurse called for Spencer again. This time, they both stood to follow her. They took an elevator to the upper floor of the clinic where the offices were and she led them to one with a placard on the door that said Dr. Nathan Jones.
The door was open and as they stepped into view, the man behind the desk stood to greet them. He was slightly overweight and wore a white lab coat over an expensive looking suit. Wire rimmed glasses perched on his nose above a gray beard though his head was bald.
"Spencer," he greeted, rounding the desk toward them. Derek was slightly surprised he didn't try to shake Spencer's hand though it pleased him, knowing Spencer didn't like touching some people. "And Mr. Morgan," he added, offering his hand to Derek.
"Derek," he said, shaking the older man's hand.
"Please, have a seat and we'll discuss what we can do for Spencer," the doctor directed, gently shutting the door to keep their conversation private before returning to sit across his desk from them. "So, Spencer," he said, leaning forward and clasping his hands. "Your blood work is clean. There is no sign of any other illnesses that could be affecting your moods in such a way. Based on this and our conversation from earlier, I think it's safe to say you're suffering from postpartum depression combined with postpartum anxiety."
Derek reached over and gently took one of Spencer's hands, giving it a slight squeeze in a silent offer of support. Spencer squeezed back and turned his attention to his boyfriend with a small smile before looking back at his doctor.
"What do you want to do about it?" he asked.
"Well, I feel you're not a danger to your daughter if left untreated. But I also feel not treating it is not an option for you. Especially when we add on the anxiety this is causing for you. So," he continued, leaning back in his chair and pulling over a prescription pad though he doesn't write anything yet. "I want to put you on a lighter than standard dose of an antidepressant."
"Will that affect his ability to continue feeding Michaela?" Derek asked, knowing continuing to breastfeed their daughter was important to Spencer.
"The drug I want to put him on has been proven to cause mild side effects to an infant through their carrier's milk. And, as I said, Spencer will benefit from even a more mild dose. The chances of it reaching your daughter is very slim," the doctor explained. "Keep an eye out for diarrhea and vomiting from your daughter. They'll likely be mild but if it becomes a problem, stop feeding her and come see me," he said, directing the last statement toward Spencer. "We'll adjust your medication and dose."
"So I don't have to stop breastfeeding?" Spencer asked, his tone and the small smile curling his lips hopeful.
"I don't see any reason that you should have to yet," Dr. Jones confirmed. Then he scribbled onto the pad, tore the top sheet off, and held it out to Spencer then folded his hands on the desk when his patient had taken it. "I'm giving you a prescription for a month. PPD generally clears up by the third month after giving birth. I'll want to see you again before this prescription runs out and we'll see if you need to continue."
Spencer nodded as he slipped the small paper into a pocket in his messenger bag while Dr. Jones turned his attention to Derek.
"Spencer explained to me that your mother is here?" he asked.
"Yeah," he confirmed. "She's staying with us for a little while. Having Michaela was a big surprise and we weren't prepared. We needed her help."
Dr. Jones nodded, small smile curling his lips and forming crinkles in the corners of his eyes. "Good. It's good you're seeking help where you need it. Spencer told me he admitted to you last night what he'd been feeling. That's good that you're communicating. It will help Spencer through this. Spencer," he said, directing his attention back toward his patient. "You don't have to do everything, alright? Give yourself time away from the baby. It does not make you a bad parent. Let others take care of her and take care of you. And keep talking. Tell Derek when you can't handle things or are scared. You don't have to battle this on your own."
Spencer nodded again, small smile in place. "Thank you."
Dr. Jones stood and moved around his desk to open the door for them. "I'll see you again in a few weeks," he said, shaking Derek's hand once more and waving goodbye to Spencer who waved in return.
"How you feeling, pretty boy?" Derek asked, slinging his arm around Spencer's shoulders as they made their way to the elevator.
"Relieved," Spencer admitted with a small smile. "It makes me feel a little better knowing why I feel how I feel and how we can help. And it's not forever."
"Nah," Derek agreed, pressing the button to call the elevator car. "You'll be Super Mom again in no time!"