The Tower: Happily Ever After

The Dark Cloud

Our family had ended up having a lot of children. Any way you looked at it, you couldn't argue that we were prolific breeders. It was strange, we went from saying that we would never have any kids to having eleven. Yet with all the others, bringing home the babies was always such a joyous occasion. Yes, there were moments of exhaustion and not feeling good enough. There were days where the kids managed to hit every single nerve and all we would want was a moment's peace. But like every aspect of our relationship, when one of us was struggling there were nine more to pick up the slack, and a break with a hot bath or a cold drink was enough to recenter and be fully present.

This time was completely different.

Of course, the others might have been happy. I'm sure they were. It was hard to tell from where I was though. I was trapped in this deep dark funk. I was exhausted and weak and had trouble even getting up to shower unless someone helped me to do it. I was crying all the time and if I wasn't crying I was usually sleeping. The others would bring the babies in to see me, and while it wasn't that I felt negatively about them - it wasn't like in the books that talked about postpartum depression where they warned you might feel the urge to shake them or hurt them some way - I just felt nothing. Which made it worse in some way because I knew what postpartum was supposed to feel like, and it wasn't nothing.

Logically I knew that's what this was. I was suffering from postpartum or some other form of depression that was brought on from the mixture of stress leading up to the birth, the huge blood loss I experienced during the labor, the usual hormonal rebalance that happens after giving birth, and a feeling of inadequacy brought on by my exhaustion and inability to properly care for the babies I'd just given birth to. Logically I knew that. But being smart enough to recognize it, didn't stop the feelings of hopelessness and depression that just bombarded me. I wished we were back on Earth and that Jax was still alive. He wouldn't have been able to magically fix it, but he might have at least known what to say to get me out of bed.

Of course, missing Jax didn't help anything either.

After two weeks of me not leaving bed except when I absolutely had to, I knew the others were starting to worry.

"Hey, sweetheart," Steve said, climbing the steps to our bed. He was carrying one of the babies and Natasha was just behind him with the other. "The twins are awake and happy, would you like to try feeding them again?"

Before giving birth I had planned to at least partially breastfeed. I knew it was harder with two. I had first-hand experience, but being on Asgard meant it would be harder to get formula for them, and besides, breastfeeding was something I'd always enjoyed before. It always felt like a nice quiet moment to bond. Even though my milk had taken longer to come in and even after two weeks was barely anything, I couldn't let go of the idea that I should be feeding them and that if I wasn't, I was useless.

I rolled over and looked up at him. "What's the point?"

"Honey," Steve said gently, kneeling beside me and putting the baby in front of me. I couldn't even tell which one it was which made that disconnected feeling I had even stronger. "If you really don't want to breastfeed you don't have to. We can always get more formula from Earth or hire a wetnurse or two like the healers suggested. I know it sounds a little strange, but Thor says he and Loki both had them."

I started crying and curled up on myself. Natasha put the other baby next to the first and curled herself around me from behind. "Shhh... mishka," she soothed. "No one is trying to make you feel guilty. We just want you to talk to us."

"I'm useless," I sobbed. "I can't feed them. I don't even know which one is which."

"That's easy," Steve said and put his hand on each baby in turn. "This one is wrapped in red so it's Thour, and this one is wrapped in green so it's Nova."