Page 138 of More Than Words

The pain in his voice killed me and it had me doing something I was scared—so damn scared—to do when it’d come up at my appointment weeks ago.

Digging through the trash can in my bathroom, I pulled out the business card I’d buried in there. Sitting on the closed toilet seat, my heart thrummed in my temples as I tried to gather the courage to type in the numbers printed.

When the phone connected, I swallowed down the panic and took a step forward instead of letting myself get sucked down by the past.

“Women’s health and wellness. How may I direct your call?”

My throat was dry, but my voice came out stronger than I felt.

“Hi, my name is Isobel Blom. I need to make an appointment to see a therapist. My OB referred me to your clinic. She was worried I may have postpartum depression, and I think I’m ready to talk to someone.”

I was able to get a last-minute appointment, thanks to a cancellation, on Friday for an initial assessment of my depression. I hadn’t expected things to move so quickly, but I couldn’t avoid this more than I already had. Living in denial was going to not only make me miserable, but it’d also make my family suffer.

My new psychiatrist, Dr. Stefano—who insisted I call him Garrett—was not what I’d expected, but he’d been ready to jump into things. He’d had me fill out a few assessments at the beginning of my appointment and then had made me tell him—in as much detail as I’d felt comfortable with—why I was coming to see him.

His calming demeanor had made it easier for me to divulge my fears, and I left my session on Friday, hopeful for the first time in months. After my appointment, I was anxious to tell Adrian that I’d finally talked to someone about how I’d been feeling, but I still needed a bit of time to process things on my own.

I had another appointment scheduled for next Friday to discuss possible medication options. Garrett also recommended getting a genetic test done to explore the best medication options for my body, so I’d spent half the morning waiting at the lab to have a cheek swab done.

I’d spent the evening and the next morning throwing myself into things I’d been avoiding, attempting to pack up the disaster that was my apartment.

Talking to Adrian on Saturday, I’d been ready to tell him I’d finally made a step toward coping with my life in a healthier way, but after he’d dropped the bomb of Pops in the hospital, I knew he was dealing with enough. I wanted to catch an Uber to be with them, but I knew he’d be upset if I put things on hold at work to do it.

As the wheels of the plane touched down in New York, my phone chimed from my pocket, so I pulled it out.

Adrian: Please travel safely. Call me if you’re up for talking. I just want to hear your voice.

I wanted to hear his voice too, but I was afraid of what he’d want to say to me. This weekend was the longest I’d spent away from either of them in months, and I hated I was the reason I wouldn’t see them for another few days. It felt like an eternity to spend away from the two people who I loved the most.

“Everything okay?” Sloane asked as I frowned at my phone, but I didn’t want to unload on her and have her doubt my ability to close this deal. She was counting on me to have my shit together, and I was determined to pretend I did until we had a signature on the contract in my bag.

“Yeah, it will be. Is there anything you need me to take care of before the meeting?”

She smiled, laying her hand on mine. “No, I know she’ll be more comfortable with you here, so I want you to be well-rested for tomorrow. Go lay down or take a bath when we get to the hotel. Enjoy the quiet I know you’re not getting at home right now.”

She had no idea how right she was. My life was a total clusterfuck.

When I woke up to my phone alarm echoing in my too-quiet hotel room, I still had a few hours until I had to be ready for the meeting with my author, Nikki, and Sloane. It would have been the perfect time to get some rest, but a phone call interrupted it.

“Hi, is this Isobel Blom?”

“This is she,” I answered absently, not entirely sure who was calling me. It was a Boston number, but it wasn’t saved in my phone.

“Dr. Stefano had a last-minute cancellation for an appointment starting at 9:00. He wanted me to check to see if you’d be up for an additional session since you’re a new patient.”

Hesitating, I took a deep breath. Friday had been draining, but I felt good after unloading some of the things I’d been keeping inside.

“I’m out of town right now, but is he able to do a telehealth call?”

After we hung up with plans for me to log into the online portal, a few tears leaked out as I tried to fight off how overwhelmed I still felt. But I could do this. I would do this, because my daughter deserved more than a mother who was a broken shell of herself. I loved her too much to let this get any worse.

“How’s your Monday going, Isobel?” Garrett asked, smiling at me through my computer monitor. “Were you able to get some sleep this weekend? I know you mentioned your daughter isn’t a fan of sleeping last session.”

Would he judge me if he knew I hadn’t seen my daughter since then? I suddenly felt like even more of a terrible parent.

“I can tell by your expression that the question isn’t one you want to answer. Remember, I’m here to help you talk through your issues, not judge you.”

Easy enough for him to say. I was judging myself enough for everyone.

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