42

Stella

I sang to Fae in the mornings, because that's when I felt the happiest. I'd eaten as much as I could in the night, and I had breakfast of goat milk and eggs and biscuits with cloudberry preserves. So it was as close to content as I felt all day, nursing my daughter in the warm morning light.

My favorites were "All Apologies" and the lullaby that Max's mother and Remy used to sing. Boden and Max had both written down the lyrics, with Max writing the lullaby phonetically since he didn't know French or how to spell it.

This morning, though, I didn't feel my usual relative serenity. Maybe it was because Boden had left to help get Remy home. Maybe it was because he'd interrupted my midnight snack last night, so I hadn't gotten my usual fill. Maybe it was because I was trying to raise a newborn in a world overrun by zombies.

Likely it was all of the above. But whatever it was, I felt ill at ease while I was singing to Rafaella, and I didn't like it.

"It looks like Fae is asleep," Max said. He was leaning against the doorframe to our room with a pensive expression, so I knew that he knew that something was wrong. "Why don't you let me hold her so you can nap, or you can put her down and we could do something together? "

"What is it that you see?" I asked, tilting my head at him. "When you look at me?"

He straightened up, startled by the question. "I see…" He cleared his throat. "I see the most beautiful person I have ever known, inside and out. In a more specific sense, I see a very lovely and very tired young woman, who still gives so much of herself even when she has nothing left to give.

"I see my best friend, the love of my life, and my other half, in the most literal sense." He walked over and crouched before me, putting a hand on my knee. "And I also see that you're scared and struggling, and I want to help you. Not just because I love you, but simply because you need it."

"But why?" I asked with tears welling in my eyes. "I love you, and I love Fae, and I've always wanted to have babies with you. We were so happy before, and life wasn't easy then. So why is this so hard? Why am I struggling so much?"

"I don't know," Max admitted sadly. "Life is unfair, because you haven't done anything wrong. I know how hard you're trying and how much you love us."

"So what should I do?" I asked.

"Let me take care of the baby, and you go take a shower," he said. "I'll make a snack and tea, so you can eat when you get out."

"Do we still have venison?" I asked. "And honey?

"Uh, sure. Deer meat and honey. I can get that ready for you."

"I mean honey for the tea, and rare for the meat," I clarified.

"Right. Yes. I will do that."

He was offering me a lifeline, and I had no choice but to take it. I handed him our baby, and I went to the bathroom for a long shower.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think of anything at all, but it was so hard to do. Even before I'd had Fae and voices came to me in the night, I struggled to silence my mind. My thoughts never seemed to stop.

But I needed to rest and relax, so I was determined to try as I sunk lower in the hot water.

My eyes had only been closed for a minute, with my thoughts drifting to Max and the baby. But that was quickly shattered by the sound of a zombie screaming.

I clamped my hands over my ears, but it didn't help because the sound was coming from inside my head. It was so loud and powerful, it felt like my skull would split, and I almost hoped it would so it would release all the pressure.

My eyes were squeezed shut, and I was overtaken with a vision. The zombie child from my nightmares appeared, standing in a pool of sticky red blood. He didn't move or speak, but I could feel his fear and hunger radiating off him in waves. His terror and anguish clenched my heart, and his hunger rolled my stomach.

And then there was a word, single and clear: Help .

"Stella?" Max knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you okay? I thought I heard you moaning."

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied.

The vision cleared, and I was standing in a lukewarm shower with my head still aching terribly. "I'll be out."

I wrapped myself in a robe that Max had left for me, and I opened the door to see Max and my midwife Jovie in our living room, sipping lavender tea.

" Oh ," I said in surprise and drew my robe more tightly around me, even though Jovie had already seen my most intimate parts.

She looked at me with a tight smile, and her eyes conveyed so much pity and concern. Max avoided my gaze, so she was likely here on his behest. They were worried about me, which meant that my behavior must be worrying.

Too late, I realized that I must be more unwell than I thought I was.

" Oh ."

"Stella, Jovie's here because…" Max trailed off, sheepish.

"We're both concerned about you because we care about you," Jovie finished for him, but I already knew that. I wanted something new.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked and already silent tears were spilling down my cheeks.

"I have some ideas, based on what I've observed and from what Max has told me," Jovie said. "If you'd like to sit down and have some tea, we'll talk about it."

Max held his hand out toward me, and I took it and sat on the couch beside him. I was hungry, and I quickly drank the tea with honey, so I'd have something filling my belly.

Jovie was sitting on the chair across from us, and she leaned forward slightly when she asked, "Have you heard of postpartum depression or postpartum psychosis?"

"I read about it in a book, I think. You cry a lot after the baby is born," I said, summarizing my understanding.

"It's more than that. The sudden changes from pregnancy, in addition to all the stress and sleep deprivation of a newborn can cause big changes in someone after giving birth," Jovie explained. "Symptoms can include intense sadness, anger, anxiety, and all the way over to extreme hostility, hallucinations, and even delusions."

"Hallucinations?" I asked.

"Hallucinations are seeing or hearing things that aren't really here," she elaborated. "Do you think you might have been experiencing something like that?"

"I-I don't know," I stammered uncertainly.

"Given that you had an unexpected high-risk pregnancy at such a young age, in a stressful environment, after a somewhat traumatic illness and birth, it is normal to struggle," she said. "The fact that you're still alive just proves how incredibly strong you are, and there's nothing wrong with asking for help. You are not being a bad mom or anything like that. Life is cruel and difficult and unfair. But we can help you."

"I need help," I admitted quietly, and then tears were coming down so fast and hard.

And they were my tears, and it was my fear in my heart, but it was also his – the zombie child's. I felt it as much as I felt anything, and I wanted it to stop.

"Sometimes the first step is realizing that you need help." Jovie smiled warmly at me. Then she grabbed a large medicine bag and pulled out herbs and teas, a few books, and a tiny vial of liquid. "I've brought some tools to help you through this, because you can make it through this."

Max wrapped his arm around me, and he kissed my shoulder. "I love you, Stella, and I know that you can overcome anything."