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He was tired. Not of the situation; everyone who he had talked to told him that postpartum depression was hard to get through but it was temporary. He kept that firmly in mind every time he was around Molly, that eventually she would be back to her old self. Or he hoped she would. He had been clinging to that hope with everything he had for months now because he had to have faith they would go back to how they had been before. This was probably the first real test of their marriage vows and he didn't want to fail, didn't want to let her down. He just had to be patient. And things seemed to be getting better. There wasn't as much anger and hostility from Molly lately, and she wasn't spending all of her time at the university anymore. But she hadn't made any move to be close to him or Lydia, and he was starting to wonder if she ever would. They were still sleeping in different rooms, and he knew that would be the case until she told him she wanted it to be otherwise.
Right now he was more physically tired than anything else. She had thrown herself into her new job at the university and spent very little time with Lydia. He had been told that was normal, that she would focus on something to keep herself from sinking so far into the depressive state that she couldn't come back. But that meant he had to take care of Lydia almost all the time, and she constantly needed care. Yes, she had been released from the hospital, but she still had health issues that needed attention, and if Molly was otherwise occupied it was left to him. She had been home now for over a month and she was improving every day, but he was running himself into the ground taking care of her and he needed some serious rest soon or he'd be no good to anyone.
Molly was at the table grading papers. He debated going over and kissing the top of her head, letting her know he still cared in a small way, but decided against it in the end. She would probably move away the minute he got close, just like she usually did, and she was busy anyway. He could at least make her tea for when she was done with her work, though. He moved into the kitchen and got the kettle, filling it with water before plugging it in. “I'm making some tea,” he said. “Would you like some?”
“Thanks,” she said without looking up. She lifted up a piece of paper and read it before setting it back down. “You don't need to, though. I can do it myself.”
“I just thought I would be helpful,” he said quietly.
She had just picked up another piece of paper when she stilled. He watched, wondering if she was about to go on a tirade. Then she turned to look at him, giving him a small grin. “That would be very nice. I appreciate it.”
He was surprised for a moment, and then gave her a wider grin. “Well, I'll have it all set up for you soon,” he said with a nod.
“Would you stay here and drink it with me?” she asked, almost tentatively.
“After I check on Lydia. She's been quiet today. I just want to be sure she's...you know.” He ran a hand through his hair slightly. “Not...”
“Not dead?” Molly asked. He nodded. “It's okay to say it. It won't set me off. The therapy is helping.”
“And the medication?” he asked tentatively.
“It works fairly well, I suppose. I've never had postpartum depression before and I still don't understand everything, but I think the fact I'm starting to care about things is a start.”
He nodded again. There were so many things he wanted to know, so many questions he needed to ask, but the prominent ones were “Do you care about me?” and “Do you care about Lydia?” and “How much do you care about us?” but he knew not to ask them just in case she didn't care much or at all. He had to steel himself for the worst with questions like that and he was just too tired right now. He kept yawning as the water finished and he began preparing the tea. By the time he was done all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed. He hoped he didn't sleep too deeply because he was fairly sure Molly wouldn't take care of Lydia if she needed anything. He knew Molly loved Lydia, but she hadn't bonded with their daughter in any measurable way. He would check on Lydia as soon as the tea was done and served.
Finally it was all set up and as he made his way to the table he realized he could barely keep his eyes open. Molly looked up, her eyes slightly wide. “Sherlock? When is the last time you got a full night's rest?”
“A while,” he said evasively.
“Go to bed,” she said. “Get some sleep before you do something you'll regret.”
“And just what would I regret?” he asked, hoping that was not the start of yet another fight.
“Hurting Lydia,” she said gently. “You need rest. Go take a nap. I'll handle things out here.”
In his head he debated what to do. On the one hand she had a very valid point; he desperately needed rest because if he didn't get it there was always the chance he would seriously injure Lydia, and he didn't want to do that. On the other hand, Molly had shown very little inclination of wanting to parent Lydia. So if Lydia had problems, would Molly adequately take care of them? Finally he decided to err on the verge of caution. “Wake me up as soon as she needs me,” he said. Then he saw the baby monitor. “Never mind. I'll hear it.”
“Leave that here, Sherlock,” she said firmly. “You're getting some uninterrupted sleep. I can do it. You can trust me, all right?”
He looked at her as she said that. From the expression on her face he could tell she honestly thought he didn't trust her. He had to prove to her otherwise. “All right,” he said with a nod. “I'll get some sleep. But if you get overwhelmed, please wake me up, no matter how little rest I get.”
“If I really need you I'll wake you up, but only as a last resort. Now go to bed. Down here, because I don't want you in the room next to her in case she starts crying,” she said, pointing towards their bedroom.
“Yes ma'am,” he said with a slight grin, and he was pleased to see a faint smile cross her own face. He turned around and headed towards their room. He was so tired that he didn't even bother to change out of his clothes or get under the covers. He just laid down on top of the bed and was asleep within moments.
It was dark when he heard crying. He groped on the nightstand for the baby monitor, because Lydia sounded quite loud. Then he frowned. He had left it in the sitting room with Molly because she had insisted. He sat up and for a moment forgot exactly where he was. Then he remembered he was in the downstairs bedroom, not the one he had been in for the last month. He stretched for a moment before he realized she was getting quieter. He got up out of bed and made his way out into the sitting room, realizing the closer he got the quieter his daughter was. That usually wasn't the way it worked.
He came out into the hallway and stopped in his tracks. Molly's papers were still on the table, but she wasn't sitting in front of them. Instead she was moving slowly around the room, Lydia in her arms, singing to her softly. He heard the microwave go off and Molly moved into the kitchen, shifting her hold on Lydia to get the bottle out and set it up. She tested it after a moment and then gave it to Lydia to drink. Lydia's cries stopped completely at that point, and he could hear Molly was singing her a lullaby. After a few minutes she stopped. "She was hungry,” Molly said quietly, not looking up. “And probably lonely as well.”
He blinked. He hadn't realized she knew he was in the room. “You went to go get her,” he said, coming into the room more.
“Well, I didn't want her to wake you up. I suppose I didn't do a good enough job of keeping that from happening.” She finally looked up at him. “I do love her. I care about her. I should have been helping you more.”
“It's all right,” he said quietly.
“No, Sherlock, it's not. You shouldn't have had to do it all. You looked so exhausted earlier and I was completely blind to it. I've been so busy with other things that I've been ignoring my family.” She was quiet for a moment. “I know it's normal for someone with postpartum depression, but I still feel like a horrible mother. And a horrible wife to boot.”
“You're not horrible,” he said, moving closer to her. “You were sick. And you're getting better now, right?” he asked. She nodded. “Then that's the important part.”
“I know,” she said, looking back at Lydia. “Do you think I could hold her for a while? I haven't really held her much.”
He nodded. “She likes to be held. She spent quite a long time in the incubator and so she likes being close to someone now. That's why I was encouraged to hold her so often when she was in the NICU. Supposedly it helps the babies put on more weight.”
“You are a very good father,” she said quietly. “You love her more than I do.”
“No, I don't think I do,” he said as he moved by them. “You love her too. You just didn't show her. But I think you're going to start doing it now.”
“I checked her first to see if she needed to be changed. And then she just cried louder when I went to go pick her up. I didn't think I'd get her calmed down at all.” She looked back up at him. “I thought she wouldn't stop crying until I got you, but I wanted to let you sleep. So I just started singing softly as I brought her down here. She quieted down after a bit.”
“I do the same thing,” he said with a smile. “Though I don't think I do it as well as you do.”
“Well, at least we know that she doesn't hate the sound of my voice,” she said with a small smile of her own. “You should go back to sleep. You were utterly exhausted earlier.”
He shook his head. “I'm probably going to get my days and nights confused as it is,” he said. “I might as well stay awake and make supper while you hold her.”
“It is rather late, isn't it?” she said. “I lost track of time with work.”
“It's all right. Go ahead and hold her until you're ready to put her back in her crib. I'll go make something for us to eat.” He watched her nod and then move away from him to go sit down in one of the chairs. She began to sing softly again and he watched her for a moment before going into the kitchen. He hoped that this was a sign that the worst was over and she would take an interest in the two of them again. He had missed the woman he'd fallen in love with immensely and if this was a sign that she was finally better he was quite happy for that.