When Saturday morning hits, I’m filled with excitement and dread. I haven’t spoken to my husband since I left, and the only communication we have had was the text message when I got to the airport in New Mexico and then through Anders and Grace.

In the administration building office, the only other place than Grace’s office for long-distance phone calls, I sit in the uncomfortable chair in front of Anders’s desk. I think he needs a chair like Grace has for her office. How is it that I can think so trivial when I’m going to talk to Ty for the first time in almost a month?

Picking up the phone, I notice it’s a fucking rotary phone. I didn’t think they made those anymore, and it takes me what feels like five minutes to dial his cell phone number. On the first ring, he answers, and he sounds both nervous and excited with his shaking words. “Ems?” he says as if he had the phone in his hands and was ready at any minute.

“Ty.” It is all I can think of to say.

“Oh, Ems, I have missed you. Honey, please tell me you’re doing okay there.”

The timbre of his tone has not changed when it comes to me. In this simple little part of my husband, I know nothing has altered my desire to be with him. Even after all I have done.

“Honey, I’m doing well.” Pausing, I want to apologize. “I know you may be mad at me for taking off as I did, but this was the best decision. I hope you can believe me.”

A silence hangs on his end for a split second, just long enough for me to wonder if this was a good idea.

“Ems, hon, I was worried. I mean, I didn’t know where you were, just that you left. Maybe I would have tried to talk you into staying there, I’m not sure. All that matters is that you are some place you can get the help you need. But, Ems, can you promise me something moving forward?”

“I can try, Ty.”

“If you leave again, please tell me. I want to be open to your ideas for your own recovery, sweetie. Remember, you’re still my wife, and I want to be a part of your major decisions, just so you know I’ll always be there. Can you do that for me?”

He’s so sincere, so willing to follow my choices. How can I not agree to this one simple request? “Yes, Ty, I promise, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. But now, I want to know about you. Man, I miss you so much. The one thing that has kept me going was how you let me make love to you the day you left. That has given me hope but also determination that you want the help you so desperately need.”

Talking about sex with my husband is so natural, and I find it odd that for six months after the birth, we were stagnant in this area. I chuckle, and I hear him doing the same thing on the other end. “Yes, babe, I have thought of that, too. I miss your touch, Ty.”

Clearing his throat, like he does when he has some large announcement, he starts, “I’ve been thinking, Ems. I spoke with Grace about this, and I want to come down and see you. I need to see you, just for my own peace of mind to make sure you’re safe.”

Part of me becomes giddy with excitement. “I want to see you, too.”

“Well, I was actually hoping to bring Aspen.”

When he says those words, I choke on the air I’m breathing. Hearing my reaction over the phone, I hear the disappointment in his words. “I don’t have to, Ems, and it’s just an idea.”

“I’m sorry, Ty. I’m really trying.”

“I know you are, honey. But for me, I’ll come. I’ll check with Mom and Dad and see if they can keep Aspen. You want me to come, right?”

“Lord, yes, Ty!” I have never wanted something more than to be held by my husband right now.

* * *

That same nail hole demands my attention each day I’m with Grace. I see her four days a week now, and I begrudgingly go to group therapy two times a week. I hate group therapy. It is bad enough I’m wallowing in my own problems, but now, I’m submerged in other people’s issues. Five others suffer from the more severe postpartum psychosis with a wide array of PTSD accompanying it. Leah and I share a bond because we both tried to end the suffering only to discover we were glad as fuck we didn’t succeed. Then Molly dresses like she’s spending the day on Rodeo Drive, and she, like me, can’t be in the same room as her son, Merrick. Jenna and Erin are sisters, having had their babies within a month of one another. They are quiet, since they have one another, so I’m not sure of their story. Ellen has suffered from this with each pregnancy; this being her third. I can’t imagine going through this again. Not that I can have more children. Losing all my woman bits made this impossible. But if I did still have them, I would not be having sex if I’d gone through this three times.

Then I think of Tyler. I love sex too much, especially after the last time we made love. Thinking of sex puts a smile on my face because I see Tyler in a week, and now that I have a taste for him again, I plan to fuck him until I can’t walk.

“What has you smiling over there, Emma?” Grace asks.

“The idea of sex with my husband this weekend when he visits.” She is now smiling, too. I wonder if Grace has her own special someone. She never talks about her life outside of here.

She begins, “Well, Emma, that is a great segue into what I want to discuss today. We’ve spent the past few weeks getting to know one another.” I laugh because I don’t really know anything about Grace except she dropped out of med school. But she continues as though she’s on a mission. “I want to delve deeper into the trauma that started this downward spiral of yours.” I freeze, and she senses this. “I know this is scary, but it’s how you move forward, sweetie. See, triggers will cause you to dwell on this obsession you’ve created in your mind that your baby is to blame for your situation.”

I sit up a little when she states this. “But here is the thing, Grace, I know that’s not right. My mind knows this, but my heart, which is what is not letting me fall in love with my baby, is telling me something different.” I’ve shared this with her before but I keep saying it out loud in hopes my heart will get the message.

“That is why we need to pinpoint the triggers, and once we do, I’ll help you visualize your way through those things that cause you to have a panic attack. We need to get through to the other side where your heart will allow you to love your baby one day.”

Sighing, I slowly breathe in calming breaths as she has taught me. “Okay, I’ll try.” I’ll try not to have an anxiety attack is what I want to say.

“Now, tell me one thing you associate with that day, something that makes your heart quicken, something other than Aspen. We are going to work on placing your fear somewhere other than your baby since your mind already knows that is not true.”

I’m thinking long and hard to find something other than the baby. I start, “The doctor was not my normal doctor. I should have listened to Justine to use Gladys, her doctor, the one who delivered her babies along with Hildy’s babies. She was there for Rose when she had Lorel.” Grace knows all these women who are near and dear to me. “But I didn’t. I chose someone else, someone I could relate to, and I liked her. But she was out of town, and I got the one doctor in the practice I didn’t like. He was too blunt, and his words could have been softer since, for fuck’s sake, I was awake. Ty was in the room. Those words, we are losing the mom, are etched in my head. His words, the way he spoke, was as if this was just another day at the office. For him it was, but for me, this was my fucking life.”

Grace nods. “Okay. See, this is good, Emma, especially since this is what you woke up to, remembering his callous words.” I nod. “We are getting there. I can understand the fear and anger that plague you. But what I want you to do, moving forward, is every time you have a fear that overtakes you, and you want to blame the poor victim in all this, think of your doctor and place the anger there for now and not on Aspen.”

I nod. I can do that because I do feel the anger now that I’ve expressed it.

* * *

Jolie is sitting on her bed when I open the door. She looks up, and I can tell she’s been crying, having come straight from group therapy. It deals with traumatic events—normally violence—and it’s one group I don’t attend. Having been through the wringer myself, I sit next to her. Our bond has strengthened, and we seem to have a connection. She has been through hell in the worst way imaginable.

“I feel the same way, kiddo,” I say, giving her a side hug. “Want to discuss it?”

“I shared my rape in the group. I can’t go through this again, not today, so please don’t ask me to.” I’m relieved, too, because I don’t think I can listen. I smile and nod in agreement when she continues, “I’m just emotionally exhausted, but it helped not to go through the details but still letting others share in my burdens. We all have had these horrible things happen to us at the hands of others. Anders was there, sharing his story.” I look surprised; I thought he told everyone upon arrival. “He doesn’t tell the ones who have had an experience of a violent nature; he waits until we are ready, and I was the last from our group to open up.”

“It is a tough story.” I admit.

“You know, I’m so young, and I’ll need to figure out what I want to do to support this little munchkin.” She points at her stomach. “But I want to help people as he has. I stayed afterward to speak with him about applying for an internship; it is a program he’s passionate about.”

All I can do is smile at Jolie, relieved for now that she may be okay, eventually. She’s taking her own recovery by the balls and not looking back. She’s kicking ass for the welfare of her baby. I now understand Grace’s choice to place us together because I’m filled with hope—for both her and for me—that normalcy can be part of our future.