The Dysfunction Of Evan: Books 1-3 Collection

53. Events

The room of Francie Kerrin was cozy and welcoming. I sat on the couch as she shifted through the paperwork sent over from my previous therapist. The walls of her office were a calming light blue color, and the pictures on the wall were various shades of pastels. Her desk in the corner was clean and white, and the four big chairs she had gathered around a light green coffee table, were a contrasting black.

"How are you adapting to motherhood?" She asked, without looking up.

"I think I'm adjusting well. I mean, no one is perfect, and with twins, I'm taking advantage of all the help I can get." I said. "I love my children."

"You noted in your paperwork about an incident with your son?" She looked at me. "As a result, you're scared to be alone with them."

I took a deep breath.

"I was abused as a child. I don't want to abuse my children."

She shifted and leaned forward. "Astrid, new mothers get frustrated all the time. Babies cry, and sometimes they don't stop. It's natural to get upset, it's normal."

"I screamed at him. I wanted to hurt him." I said.

"I can't begin to tell you how many times I wanted to do that with my daughter. It's worse now that she's discovered the art of talking back. You're human, Astrid. What makes you different from an abuser, you stopped. You didn't do it." She leaned back. "My daughter was colic, and nothing helped. I remember one afternoon, she was about two months old, she'd been crying all morning. I was at my wits end, and I was ready to toss her through the window. I didn't though, because I loved her, and I didn't want to hurt her. I knew she'd stop crying eventually. I screamed it out with her for a minute and I felt better. Society has us convinced that good mothers don't get frustrated or upset. That's total bollocks."

"Did you sit in the corner and cover your ears until your husband came home?" I asked.

"No, I did one better. I closed the nursery door and left her to cry while I went to the kitchen and had some wine." She chuckled. "My husband came home from work, I was halfway through the bottle and she'd cried herself to sleep about an hour before hand."

I gave her a wide eyed look, suddenly feeling less guilty. At least I'd stayed in the room with Boyd. Though, had I known wine was an option...I shook my head and blinked.

"How long did she cry?"

"She was in there for about two hours. I went in a few times to check on her, made sure her nappy was clean and tried giving her a bottle. In the end, the best thing for both of us was to let her cry. As adults, we know how to handle our upset and discomfort. We can verbalize and internalize it so it doesn't effect those around us. Babies can't do that yet, all they can do is cry. Sometimes, that's all they need to do. Letting them do it doesn't make people bad parents or abusers."

"So, I'm scared for nothing?" I asked.

"Yes and no. You don't want to continue the cycle of abuse, and that's understandable." She looked back at my paperwork. "You have an extensive history of depression and suicide. How have you been handling that? Any thoughts of hurting yourself?"

"Sometimes, at night." I admitted. " I think about it, but then I think about Boyd and Lucy and the thoughts go away."

She nodded. "What kind of thoughts are they?"

"Sometimes I want to cut myself. Other times, I want to drink until I don't wake up." It was enlightening to not only admit these things to myself, but out loud as well.

"Are you drinking?" She asked.

"Maybe once in a while, but I'm breast feeding, and with two babies, I'm constantly pumping or feeding." I said. I couldn't even remember the last drink I had. She nodded.