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Please...

Trigger Warning: This story deals with postpartum anxiety and depression and talks about infant death.

By Chelsea ThatcherPublished 3 years ago 6 min read
2
Please...
Photo by Monica Malave on Unsplash

Please, someone, make it stop. Make it all stop. Please.

The sky was just turning a pale shade of pink, preparing for the sun’s emergence from behind the mountains. The ice covering the frozen pond was tinged pink in reflection. Trees surrounded the pond, laden with their snowy burdens. Only a set of footprints belonging to a small animal had disturbed the freshly fallen snow upon the ground. Laura looked out from the cabin window to see what should have been a glorious and mesmerizing view. Not even her beloved nature could interrupt the grief.

The anguish you feel will never go away. There is nothing you can do. You’re irreversibly broken. This getaway was supposed to help you move on, but it’s done nothing. You will never move on. This is the punishment you deserve. Everything that happened is your fault.

“Hey, hon,” David came up behind her tentatively, as if he were trying not to startle a wild animal, “I, uh, I’m heading into town real quick to pick up some stuff for breakfast. I’ll try not to be gone for too long.”

David moved closer to put his arm around her then thought better of it. Lately, he seemed to react to Laura’s mere presence as if he were about to be mauled by a bear. Distance was his ally, his rescue. He turned to leave.

“Pick up some formula too will y-” Laura whirled around, the shock and horror of her error evident on her face. David was gutted. “I’m s...so...sorry. I didn’t m...mean…” She watched as grief instantly painted over David’s entire frame. “Just go...um, get some breakfast. I’ll… I’ll be fine.” Laura turned back to face the window, not able to endure her mistake or David’s reaction any longer. She heard him sigh, a sound made of the deepest sorrow, and then his footsteps told her that he had gone.

He hates you. How could you do this to him? He was such a good dad. You are to blame. He knows it. He can’t even stand to be in the same room with you anymore. He only brought you up here to make himself feel better, to be able to say he tried. Now he can leave and not have to worry about you dragging him down.

Laura stared down at the pond again, wondering how thick the ice was on top. Would it hold her weight? In past winters, they had been able to go skating on it. Laura closed her eyes to remember the Christmases spent up here with David and his family. Ice skating on the pond with her brothers and sisters-in-law. David was a terrible skater, and Laura eventually had to stop holding hands with him as they fell far too often. They would all come back to the cabin with bumps and bruises, but with giant smiles. David’s mom would have hot chocolate for them and would help the grandkids out of their wet snow clothes. The thought of her nieces and nephews shoved Laura back to reality.

You’ll never have that. You did not deserve Charlie. You were too careless and now look at everything you’ve ruined. You are the worst mother. You are a murderer.

New memories flashed before Laura’s eyes before she could stop them. Standing in front of the kitchen counter, she stared at the blender they had bought to make their own baby food. She had the sudden compulsion to put her hand in and turn it on. She cringed with revulsion at the thought and David noticed. He asked her what was wrong. He said she had been acting differently for a while. Laura told him she was just a tired new mom. It was nothing. But she kept her eyes away from the blender.

She was rocking Charlie, bouncing and trying to hum a lullaby. Nothing was working. He had already screamed and bawled for an hour. Laura was ready to scream herself and possibly rip her hair out. David tried taking a turn but Laura felt that she had to be the one to calm their son. If she couldn’t even properly care for him, how was she going to be a good mother? No, she would keep rocking him until he fell asleep. She would prove to everyone, especially herself, that she could do this.

Charlie was sleeping and David said they should go to bed as well. Laura’s chest still felt as she was trapped in a vice, and although she was exhausted, she felt wired. She told David to go on and she would be there in a bit. She then went and checked all the doors and windows to make sure they were locked. Laura knew she might only be able to sleep once she could predict and prevent any major threats. The last room she checked was the nursery. As she tiptoed past the crib, she noticed that Charlie was on his stomach. Something tugged at her mind, telling her that he had to be on his back. Laura took a deep breath. If she moved her baby, he would most definitely wake and begin crying again. Her muscles tensed with fear as she considered this outcome. He would be okay. She crept out of the room and told herself to calm down.

It was morning when Laura woke. The sunshine was startling and confusing. How had she slept so long? Then an anvil of dread dropped into her chest. She threw off the blankets and ran for Charlie’s room. He was still and cold. A hysterical, desperate scream tore through her lungs.

You could have saved him. You should have just turned him over. You were too selfish to do what was best for your son. And now, you’ve lost him. You are worthless. Your son died because of you!

Laura sat straight up in bed. Her pillow and sheets were soaked with sweat. Her breaths came in short, painful bursts. The air conditioning window unit was blowing a cold stream of air in her direction, making her shiver. The rest of the tiny apartment bedroom was heavy with summer humidity. It was like waking to an entirely new world. The shivering didn’t stop, and Laura realized she was shaking. The memories and dreams had intermingled so efficiently that she could not tell what was real. Only one thing mattered: Charlie.

Laura jumped up and ran to the adjoining room. She burst into the nursery, the door knocking against the wall in her hurry. A wail came from the crib at such a forceful awakening. Laura threw her arms into the crib and wrapped the baby up into her. Tears poured down her cheeks and his as she pressed his tiny head against her chest. David woke to the crashing door as well and came in to find out what was going on. He saw Laura kneeling on the floor in front of the crib. She was sobbing uncontrollably and beginning to hyperventilate. She rocked back and forth as a way to soothe herself. Charlie was screaming hysterically, sensing the emotions of his mother. David knelt next to Laura and put his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes met his and she knew that she had to tell him about her broken soul.

“I...I need help. Please, help me make the hurting stop. Please.”

Short Story
2

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