Page 18 of The Unseen
“It was lovely. Your sweet young voice ringing out in the darkness of the winter night.” Phoebe sighed. “Anyway, how is Emma? Is she in bed?”
“She just fell asleep.”
“And Quinn? How’s she feeling?”
“Physically, she seems fine. Emotionally, I’m not so sure.”
“You must keep an eye on her, Gabriel. Postnatal depression can be a very serious thing.”
“She’s not depressed.”
“Are you sure?”
Gabe thought about that for a moment. He’d been sure up until a second ago, but now he couldn’t say with any certainty that Quinn wasn’t going through something other than the normal recovery from a caesarean section. She’d been tense and a little distant, and shrank from him the few times he’d reached for herover the past few weeks. Dr. Malik had given her the all clear, but Quinn had been reluctant to resume intimate relations. Whenever she allowed Gabe to hold her or kiss her, she seemed miles away, clearly eager for him to release her so she could go to sleep.
“No, I’m not sure,” Gabe finally replied truthfully. “Is it common?”
“Unfortunately, it’s all too common, and most women are too ashamed to admit to it.”
“Why?”
“I suppose they’re afraid of being judged. People think having a baby is the most natural thing in the world. You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but there’s nothing further from the truth.”
“How do you mean, Mum?”
Gabe heard his mother sigh, probably thinking he was too obtuse to work things out for himself. “Gabe, you became a parent to Alex at the same time as Quinn, but your body hasn’t changed, and neither has your routine, for the most part. You still get up in the morning, go to work, come home, have dinner with your family, and go to bed. The only real difference is that now your evenings are filled with children rather than watching a program on TV or reading a novel. Quinn’s life has changed inside out. She’d gone through months of feeling unwell, to the point of having to be confined to bed rest, then having her body cut open to extract the baby. She’s not the same as she was before the pregnancy, and might never return to the same physical condition. And I’m not talking about losing the weight she gained during her pregnancy. Everything is different, even her ability to feel desire.”
“Really? That changes too?”
“Of course. Has that been a problem?” Phoebe asked carefully. She didn’t shrink away from asking difficult questions. Gabe was her only son, and she felt it her duty to help him in any way she could, so he might avoid making some of the mistakes his own father had made when Gabe was born.
“She doesn’t seem very interested.”
“Give her time.”
“How much time? Alex is nearly three months old.”
“As long as it takes.”
“I miss her, Mum.”
“And she misses herself.”
“What?”
“Gabe, up until a few months ago, Quinn was a working woman who could come and go as she pleased. Since Alex’s birth, she’s been tethered to him, her breasts his only source of nutrition. She can’t even take a walk by herself without taking his feeding schedule into account or asking someone to mind him. That baby is her priority twenty-four hours a day. That’s not an easy transition from being in charge of your own time. It’s a difficult adjustment, especially for a woman who’s worked steadily, and often traveled for her job, for the past decade.”
“Did you have difficulty adjusting when I was born?” Gabe asked, genuinely curious. It was only since he and Quinn got together that he’d begun to learn more about his own mother. She’d never talked about herself much, probably because after years of her needs being overlooked, she hadn’t seen the point.
“In my day, no one had postnatal depression.” Phoebe scoffed. “At last no one ever admitted to it. I was besotted with you, but I have to admit there were times when I felt angry, weepy, and trapped. Your father wasn’t much help, God rest his soul. He’d sooner go to his study and smoke a pipe while reading a fishing magazine than give me an hour to myself. Those first few weeks, I barely bathed. I was terrified to leave you unattended. Eventually, I developed a routine and used those precious hours when you napped to see to my own needs. I wasn’t a working woman though. I didn’t have to balance my career accomplishments with taking care of a newborn.”
“Are you saying that Quinn might resent the baby?”
“It’s not unnatural to experience moments of resentment.”
“Does she resent me?”
“She might. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you, son. What she’s going through is natural and will all work itself out in time.”
