Taking a seat beside her, I adjust Jacqueline in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say huskily. “I shouldn’t have left you alone with her. But, baby, we can’t go on like this,” I add softly, draping my free arm around her shoulders. “You need to tell me what’s going on inside your head. Tell me what you’re feeling. No masks.”
She remains silent as she diverts her eyes away from me.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispers finally. “I love her, but I can’t hold her. I can’t even look at her because my heart breaks at the sight of her. I’m a horrible mother.”
I swallow, shaking my head.
“No, you’re not.”
“No masks,” she repeats, flitting her gaze back to me. Something flashes in her dark eyes and for a second, I think she’s conflicted by looking at me and wanting to look at our daughter. “This isn’t how I pictured it…or maybe it is, I’m not even sure anymore. You’re so good with her.”
That breaks my heart.
Mainly because I wish she’d see how good she’s been to her.
“You can be too. You just need to allow yourself the chance,” I tell her. “Lace, think about everything you’ve done for her already. Everything you went through to make sure she was healthy. Everything I could never do for her, you did. Everything she needed from her mother, she got. I think she misses you.”
“I miss her too,” she sobs. “I miss feeling her inside of me. I miss talking to her.”
“She’s right here, baby. All you gotta do is reach for her.”
“I don’t want you to think I don’t love her.”
“I know you do.”
“I love her so much,” she cries. “I swear, I do.”
Pausing to wipe her tears, she lowers her hand so that it rests on my forearm.
So close and yet so far.
Her lashes lower as she takes in a breath. Opening her eyes, she glances down at our little girl, safe and content in my arms, staring up at her mommy.
“Oh, Jacqueline, mommy loves you,” she sobs, laying her head on my shoulder as she inches her hand away from my arm and closer to the baby’s hand. “Please, don’t think I don’t. I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry.”
“Ssh…” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “You don’t have to be sorry. You just need to be well.” As the words leave my lips, I realize how many times they’ve been passed between us. “I’m going to call Dr. Spiegel and set up an appointment. Maybe your meds need to be adjusted.”
“No,” she shouts, lifting her head from my shoulder. Her eyes are wide with fear as she shakes her head. “I don’t want to go back there.”
“What?”
“She’s going to put me in the hospital again, Blackie, and while I may be struggling with Jacqueline, I don’t want to be apart from her. I don’t want her to think I’ve abandoned her.”
I understand that because I felt the very same way. But in the same sense, I needed to be away, to be well, and it was Lacey who made me realize that. Suddenly a memory of us flashes before me and I’m transcended back to when she witnessed Jack off his meds and suffering through a mental break.
“I want you to hold me. I want you to love me and more than that, I want you to promise me if I ever get like that, you’ll make me get treatment. That you’ll never let our kids see me the way I saw my dad today.”
“Lace—”
“Promise me, Blackie, and I swear, right here, right now, that I’ll do the same. I’ll never let our son or daughter see you at your weakest.”
“I promise.”
Shaking the memory from my head, I look at her.
No more promises.
Only actions.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Lacey
Suffering from mental illness has taught me nothing is guaranteed. There are no straight roads when you’re battling depression. Only bends and curves and they steer you off the path you planned for yourself. You lose control and sometimes you don’t find your way back.
I thought the worst thing to ever happen to me was when I lost my will to bring my daughter into the world. That being committed while pregnant was the lowest point of depression. But I was wrong. The worst thing to ever happen to me was when I lost my will to be her mother.
It all happened so quickly.
I went from feeling such elation to feeling nothing but fear.
I was afraid to touch her.
Afraid to hold her.
Afraid to love her.
I was petrified of her becoming attached to me and not for the reasons you think. I knew how to care for her. Motherhood came as naturally as breathing did. I also knew I would make mistakes along the way because every new mom does. So, it was never a question of her being dependent on me and not having the ability to deliver. I didn’t want her becoming attached to me because I feared my mind would eventually take me away from her. That she would love me as much as I love her only to feel abandoned when I lost sight of that love.
I thought I could pull myself out of it, but for as many blackouts as I’ve suffered, I couldn’t find the light. I lost control and if it wasn’t for my husband…well, I don’t know what might’ve happened. He should’ve been concentrating on acclimating to life outside of rehab. Instead, he took control of me, of our family and steered us back to course.
Back to the life, we were always meant to have.
I still hate thinking about the day he left me alone with our daughter because I can still hear her cries ringing in my ears. My heart shattered with each wail and yet there was nothing I could do. I was stuck. Rooted to fear.
His first suggestion was to call Dr. Spiegel, but I remember begging him not to. I didn’t want to leave our little girl. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t remember me leaving. I would remember and if my mind didn’t let me, my heart would. There would always be a void.
But I made Blackie promise he’d never let our daughter see me lose my mind the way I watched my dad lose his, and he took that vow to heart. He didn’t take me to Dr. Spiegel. He didn’t shove more pills down my throat or demand I snap out of it.
He packed us up and took us upstate to the cabin we hid in when he was recovering from the gunshot and hiding from the cops.
Him.
Me.
And our girl.
Leather, lace, and hope.
I remember walking into that cabin and asking him how leaving our home would fix anything. He said it wouldn’t, which only confused me more, but I didn’t press him. I trusted my husband with my life. My heart. My mind. I trusted him to bring me back to our daughter.
We were in that cabin for days and every day he took care of our daughter. He didn’t ask me to help him change her diaper or bathe her. He figured it out and what he couldn’t he googled. When he wasn’t caring for her, he was checking on me, making sure I took my meds.
After a week, my father showed up with Dr. Spiegel. I knew they wanted me to go back to the hospital. I was depressed not stupid, but my husband told them I was staying put. Dr. Spiegel prescribed me different medication and suggested hormone therapy. I started taking the new meds and I think people credit my recovery to that.