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intheheartTitle: Blue
Rating: PG
Summary: Melanie is surrounded by blue.
Warnings: postpartum depression and thought processes
Notes: none
Melanie is surrounded by blue. Blue blankets, blue onesies, blue pacifiers, even, as if Aaron could even recognize the color, let alone the social connotations. For heaven's sake, he's not even two weeks old yet. Why must everything in her life be blue now because she's given birth to a boy?
Not that pink would be much better.
He's sleeping now. Melanie looks down at her son critically. He is cute, she supposes, with his little wisps of brown hair and his mouth softly askew, his tiny hand curled up by his head and his eyelashes absurdly long against his cheek. Really, though, he's a baby, cute as any other baby, endearing as anyone's child, and he is blessedly asleep.
She moves away from the crib, into the kitchen, where Nathan is stirring something on the stove. Probably one of the frozen soups her friends and his brought over, since she knows very well he can't cook for beans.
"Hi Mel," he says, and smiles warmly at her. It doesn't stir her like it used to, but she smiles back. "He asleep?"
"Yes," she says, and pulls a chair out from the table. Her breasts hurt. She'd planned on breastfeeding, but it's just so time-consuming. Now she nurses two or three times a day-- the doctor recommended eight but it was driving her insane-- and Nathan bottle-feeds the baby the rest of the time so she's not always chained to the rocking chair. Which is nice. He's trying. She knows he is. Anyway she won't wake Aaron just to deal with this. She'll manage.
"God, finally," Nathan says. "I thought he'd never sleep." Like he was the one putting the baby down.
And that's unfair. She knows it is, so she doesn't say it, she just smiles.
He'll be redeployed soon. He's already had more time than she expected. And when he's gone, it's just her and Aaron, and Melanie... doesn't know what she'll do. She could ask him to stay, but she already knows the answer to that.
"Here," Nathan says, and sets a bowl down in front of her.
"Thank you," she says, automatically. It's definitely one of the frozen soups. Chicken and dumplings, she thinks. The bowl is blue.
She smiles at him, mechanical, and starts to eat.
Rating: PG
Summary: Melanie is surrounded by blue.
Warnings: postpartum depression and thought processes
Notes: none
Melanie is surrounded by blue. Blue blankets, blue onesies, blue pacifiers, even, as if Aaron could even recognize the color, let alone the social connotations. For heaven's sake, he's not even two weeks old yet. Why must everything in her life be blue now because she's given birth to a boy?
Not that pink would be much better.
He's sleeping now. Melanie looks down at her son critically. He is cute, she supposes, with his little wisps of brown hair and his mouth softly askew, his tiny hand curled up by his head and his eyelashes absurdly long against his cheek. Really, though, he's a baby, cute as any other baby, endearing as anyone's child, and he is blessedly asleep.
She moves away from the crib, into the kitchen, where Nathan is stirring something on the stove. Probably one of the frozen soups her friends and his brought over, since she knows very well he can't cook for beans.
"Hi Mel," he says, and smiles warmly at her. It doesn't stir her like it used to, but she smiles back. "He asleep?"
"Yes," she says, and pulls a chair out from the table. Her breasts hurt. She'd planned on breastfeeding, but it's just so time-consuming. Now she nurses two or three times a day-- the doctor recommended eight but it was driving her insane-- and Nathan bottle-feeds the baby the rest of the time so she's not always chained to the rocking chair. Which is nice. He's trying. She knows he is. Anyway she won't wake Aaron just to deal with this. She'll manage.
"God, finally," Nathan says. "I thought he'd never sleep." Like he was the one putting the baby down.
And that's unfair. She knows it is, so she doesn't say it, she just smiles.
He'll be redeployed soon. He's already had more time than she expected. And when he's gone, it's just her and Aaron, and Melanie... doesn't know what she'll do. She could ask him to stay, but she already knows the answer to that.
"Here," Nathan says, and sets a bowl down in front of her.
"Thank you," she says, automatically. It's definitely one of the frozen soups. Chicken and dumplings, she thinks. The bowl is blue.
She smiles at him, mechanical, and starts to eat.
