inkonstage (inkonstage) wrote in rooms, @ 2015-09-04 10:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | !marvel comics, *narrative, marta flores |
Narrative
Who: Marta
What: Narrative
Where: Their Seven's Their house in Marvel
When: Handwavey recent because Marta is my slow bb.
Warnings/Rating: Some sads. Mental health/post-partum issues.
She'd finally realized that she needed to call someone. Maybe it was the advice of others, maybe it was just something inside of her that realized that she hadn't always felt awful, and knowing that nearly every pregnancy book she'd picked up had mentioned post-partum depression. But even knowing that, it was still nearly impossible to take that first step toward calling her doctor.
Their reaction had been a bit more than she'd expected. She'd hung up the phone after the call with an appointment for as early in the morning as the office scheduled anything, and it was only the reassurance on her part that there was someone else there with her (and the baby) at all times. It had taken her most of the day to work up the energy to make the call itself, and she was under the impression that if it had been earlier in the day, they would have called her in right then. That was how the appointment clerk (and then the actual nurse) had made it seem over the phone. But Tommy had been there helping her already, and Seven would make it home. At some point. No one had to worry about her hurting the baby. Or herself. She knew those were the concerns. And she was worried about hurting the baby (Bean. Sawyer.) too, just not in the same way the doctor's office was. She was more worried about the long-term and accidents. She didn't want to hurt it. Her.
She watched from her spot curled up on the sofa as Tommy moved around the living room and kitchen, Bean held carefully against one of his wide shoulders. She didn't feel the same tight affection in her stomach as she did when she watched Seven do the same thing, but there was relief there, a warmth and gratefulness that he was around to help. He'd saved her life and Bean's (that was what the doctors at the hospital had said), and now he spent most of his time at the house taking care of an infant.
"First chauffeur duty and now babysitting. Probably not what you'd expected, huh?" Tommy paused in his walking (and gentle bouncing) back and forth to look over in surprise. Marta didn't initiate conversation much anymore, so she supposed that it was strange for her to say something out of the blue like that. But Tommy just smiled and gave a shrug with his non-baby shoulder, telling her that he'd taken care of kids before.
He sat on the other end of the sofa, still rocking back and forth just a little, and then carefully setting Bean (a sleeping Bean) on her back on the center cushion, keeping a hand close by in case she moved at all. And he talked. About a few different things, things that didn't seem too serious. A little about his own life, and Marta realized how little she actually knew about the man that had been around for months. He talked and she responded, until even that seemed like too much of an effort. He noticed (where had Seven found this guy?) and slowly went quieter so she wasn't forced to reply. And after a while, he gave her a nod and carefully lifted Bean to go settle her in her crib for a nap.
And Marta thought about the doctor.