and tired and distant. Julie almost started crying right there.
“Well, I know how it is to be a new parent, so I thought it might be a nice surprise to bring you both some dinner. I made meatloaf. You've always loved it."
Again, Meg stared at her blankly, almost as if she was looking right through her. "Oh. Thanks." She turned and walked over to the sofa and sat down.
Julie glanced back at Christian and saw the look of despair on his face. This was worse than she had anticipated. Her daughter was obviously not just suffering with a little bit of feeling blue. She was struggling in ways that Julie hadn't imagined.
When she thought about the fact that Meg had had her baby so young, she wondered what the whole hormonal process might have done to her still growing body. Even though she was twenty years old now, Julie had never thought of her as an adult. She was a tiny little thing, and she would always be Julie's baby girl.
Christian took the food from Julie and disappeared into the small galley kitchen. Slowly, Julie walked over to her daughter, who was now putting the baby in the car seat carrier that was next to the sofa. Vivi was asleep, obviously having been filled with nutritious breast milk.
Meg sighed and leaned back against the sofa. The news was playing in the background, but nobody was watching it, so Julie reached over to grab the remote and mute the TV.
"How's the baby?"
Meg smiled slightly, obviously forcing herself to seem happy. "She's good. I took her for a check up a few days ago. Right on target."
“And how are you?" Julie asked, wishing she had asked that question first. One problem with new mothers was that they felt neglected by society. People rarely asked how they were doing, and instead focused all of their attention on the adorable new baby.
"I'm fine."
Meg had always been her bubbly daughter, but right now she seemed like a shell of a human being. This went far beyond just being exhausted and getting up at night with the baby. Julie was getting more concerned by the moment.
"Meg, I can tell something’s wrong. I'm your mother. How can I help you?"
Meg still stared straight ahead, now at the muted TV. "I don't know. I don't feel… anything."
"You don't feel anything?"
She shook her head. "I thought I would feel happy, excited. But all I feel is empty."
Julie stood up and walked over to the sofa, sitting down beside her daughter. She put her arm around her and pulled Meg’s head to her shoulder.
"I am so sorry that I didn't notice you were struggling until now. But I'm going to get you some help."
Meg pulled away and looked at her, anger on her face. "Do you think I'm crazy? You think I'm not a good mother?"
Julie was taken aback. "No, honey, of course not. I just think you're struggling with postpartum depression."
Meg stood up. "Don't try to label me! I'm not gonna be put on some kind of mind altering drug to make me normal. Maybe this is just who I am now."
Julie shook her head. "Meg, it doesn't have to be like this. This should be one of the most exciting times in your life. Let me help you. I'll go with you to your next doctor’s appointment, and we can talk to the doctor about…"
“Mother, please leave. Thank you for the food, but I can't do this right now."
Julie was shocked. Christian poked his head out of the kitchen, staring at the situation. Julie was his only hope, and now she’d somehow made things worse.
"Meg, your mother is only trying to help," Christian said as he walked up behind her.
"You don't think I know this was a set up? I might be sad and depressed, but I'm not stupid. I know you must've told her to come over here. And after I asked you not to tell anyone about all of this."
“Honey, he was just worried about you. And the baby."
Meg’s head swung around, anger in her eyes. "The baby? You think I would hurt my own child?"
"Not on purpose. Maybe just forgetting about her or something like that… I mean, you’re mind is a little fuzzy right now.”
Meg's eyes opened wide. "You didn't want me to have a baby this young. I get it. That doesn't mean I'm a terrible mother. You think I would forget my kid? I'm just a little sad right now. I'm exhausted.