FREAKING OUT ² ➢ spencer reid

LVII

"So, Isla, how are you feeling today?"

I adjusted myself in my seat, letting out a small groan as I nodded my head at Dr. Miller. From the other side of the table she narrowed her eyes in my direction and shuffled to the edge of her seat, watching me carefully as I struggled for comfort.

At this point I was seven months along and really starting to feel it. My stomach looked like it had exploded to double the size overnight and as amazing as it felt to be in the homestretch of things, it also really sucked.

"You okay?"

"Mhm, yup, never better." I finally settled down into the one position I could no longer feel the children kicking me in and let out a sigh, flashing Miller a nervous smile as I nodded my head. "Sorry, what was the question?"

"How are you?"

"Oh, good. I mean, as good as one can be with a pair of boys jumping around in their uterus, right?" I tried to sound as honest as possible as I let out a laugh, knowing Miller wasn't the greatest fan of sarcasm, especially during our sessions.

Not long after the wedding Reid and I discussed the option of therapy. Like our last conversation about the topic I was a little wary at first thanks to, what I now knew, were trust issues. Obviously though, Reid managed to change my mind with a simple run off of the facts, stating that seeking help for mental health related issues was often found to be beneficial. I remember when he said it I had to force myself not to roll my eyes, because deep down I knew he was right. At the end of the day everyone needed help a little help sometimes, even me.

Not long after, I was signed up for counselling. During my first session I remember crying like a baby. The vulnerability of it made me feel sick to my stomach, but afterwards even I had to admit I felt better. Having that release with an outside perspective really sealed the deal for me, especially considering how great Miller was from the start. Immediately from the get go she was my biggest supporter and was able to pin point things about myself that even I wasn't aware of.

After that I started going once a week. During each session we'd discuss various things: life at home, adjusting to the lack of hours at work; simple stuff. At first it was kind of strange, because I figured therapy was all about the trauma, but after asking I realized that wasn't necessarily the case. What happened to me wasn't always the direct result of my mental state; sometimes it was other things.

I remember how absolutely mind blown I felt when she said that, because honestly I knew. My brain was far from perfect, even as a child, but thanks to my stubborn nature I just avoided the problem until I no longer could.

"How have the last few weeks been?"

I blinked in her direction, trying to recall an answer. Over the last month our appointments had been sparse. Every time I found myself close to attending a session something stupid like work or other plans interrupted, forcing me to reschedule. At first I felt bad, because here Miller was trying to improve my mental health, yet I was avoiding the issue and focusing on other things.

"Long," I said with a sigh. As I did she raised her brow; her signature way of posing a question without actually asking it. I learned early on that she wasn't a talker, which seemed pretty fitting considering the majority of her job was to listen and assess.

"Mentally I'm tired, like not bad tired, but tired, tired... if that makes sense."

She nodded slowly as she leaned back in her seat, staring intently.

"I've been working a bit less, like you suggested and it's been going well, but I think I'm at a point where I just need to go," I explained. "I love Cooper and Hotch and everyone else I interact with, but now that I'm so close to the end of this," I paused to motion to my stomach, "I'm just worn out."