“Where are your kinner? Are they outside playing with my three?”
Faith shook her head. “We left them with my folks. Noah and I are going to Seymour to shop; then he’s taking me to Baldy’s Café for some barbecued ribs.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It’s been awhile since we did anything without our two young’uns along.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Noah left Osborn’s Tree Farm a little early today, since things are a bit slow there right now.”
“I see.”
“Melinda was real happy about going over to her grandma and grandpa Stutzman’s,” Faith continued. “Her aunt Susie’s cat just had a litter of kittens.”
“Is Melinda still taking in every stray animal that comesalong?” Barbara asked, realizing that she wasn’t contributing much to the conversation.
“Oh, jah. That girl would turn our place into a zoo if we’d let her.”
“She’s never been one to sit around and play with dolls, has she?”
“No, only the one her real daed gave her before he died. She hung on to that doll until I married Noah; then she finally put it away in a drawer.” Faith shrugged. “I tried to get her to play with the faceless doll my mamm made when I was a girl, but she stuck that away, too.”
Barbara sipped her tea. “I guess some girls would rather do other things than play little mudder .”
“Like me—the girl who grew up telling jokes and yodeling and couldn’t have cared less about domestic things.” Faith smiled. “How’s the baby? I can’t wait to hold him.”
“Davey’s fine. He’s sleeping in his crib.”
Faith leaned forward and set her cup on the coffee table. “I’m glad he’s doing well, but I don’t think you are.”
Barbara felt her defenses rise. Had her friend come over to lecture her? “I’ll get my weight back as soon as my appetite improves,” she said through tight lips.
“You’ve got to eat enough for both you and little David. Nursing mothers need plenty of nourishment, you know.”
“I’m fine. Still a little weak, but that’s getting better. And I make myself eat even if I’m not hungry.”
Faith clasped her hands around her knees. “How’s your mental health?”
Barbara blinked. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re depressed. I can see it in your eyes and the way your shoulders are slumped.”
Heat flooded Barbara’s face. Faith knew her so well, but she hated to admit the way she felt. She thought it was a sign of weakness to be depressed. Up until David died, she had always been so strong. Even after his death, she had managed to avoid depression by keeping busy in the harness shop.
“It might help to talk about it,” Faith prompted.
Barbara shuddered as tears clouded her vision. It wasn’t like her to lose control. “Talking won’t change a thing,” she muttered.
“Maybe not, but it might make you feel better.” Faith patted the sofa cushion. “Come sit by me and pour out your heart.”
Barbara sighed and placed her cup on the small table to her left. Faith wouldn’t let up until she got what she came for, and Barbara was pretty sure the woman’s goal was to make her break down. Faith had said many times that God gave people tear ducts for a good reason, and folks shouldn’t be too stubborn to use them.
When Barbara sat beside her friend, she clenched her fingers and willed herself not to cry.
“Is it postpartum depression?” Faith questioned.
“Maybe.” Barbara felt her neck spasm as despair gripped her like a vise. “I think it’s a combination of things.”
“Such as?”
“Missing David, feeling bad because our youngest son will never know his daed, wanting to be out at the harness shop but knowing I’m too weak to do much more than care for myself and the boppli right now.”
“Your mamm’s looking after the other three, right?”
Barbara nodded.
“And Paul Hilty’s helping in the shop, so that gives you time to rest up and get your strength back.”
“Jah.”
“I don’t mean to lecture, but
Faith shook her head. “We left them with my folks. Noah and I are going to Seymour to shop; then he’s taking me to Baldy’s Café for some barbecued ribs.”
“That sounds nice.”
“It’s been awhile since we did anything without our two young’uns along.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Noah left Osborn’s Tree Farm a little early today, since things are a bit slow there right now.”
“I see.”
“Melinda was real happy about going over to her grandma and grandpa Stutzman’s,” Faith continued. “Her aunt Susie’s cat just had a litter of kittens.”
“Is Melinda still taking in every stray animal that comesalong?” Barbara asked, realizing that she wasn’t contributing much to the conversation.
“Oh, jah. That girl would turn our place into a zoo if we’d let her.”
“She’s never been one to sit around and play with dolls, has she?”
“No, only the one her real daed gave her before he died. She hung on to that doll until I married Noah; then she finally put it away in a drawer.” Faith shrugged. “I tried to get her to play with the faceless doll my mamm made when I was a girl, but she stuck that away, too.”
Barbara sipped her tea. “I guess some girls would rather do other things than play little mudder .”
“Like me—the girl who grew up telling jokes and yodeling and couldn’t have cared less about domestic things.” Faith smiled. “How’s the baby? I can’t wait to hold him.”
“Davey’s fine. He’s sleeping in his crib.”
Faith leaned forward and set her cup on the coffee table. “I’m glad he’s doing well, but I don’t think you are.”
Barbara felt her defenses rise. Had her friend come over to lecture her? “I’ll get my weight back as soon as my appetite improves,” she said through tight lips.
“You’ve got to eat enough for both you and little David. Nursing mothers need plenty of nourishment, you know.”
“I’m fine. Still a little weak, but that’s getting better. And I make myself eat even if I’m not hungry.”
Faith clasped her hands around her knees. “How’s your mental health?”
Barbara blinked. “What are you getting at?”
“You’re depressed. I can see it in your eyes and the way your shoulders are slumped.”
Heat flooded Barbara’s face. Faith knew her so well, but she hated to admit the way she felt. She thought it was a sign of weakness to be depressed. Up until David died, she had always been so strong. Even after his death, she had managed to avoid depression by keeping busy in the harness shop.
“It might help to talk about it,” Faith prompted.
Barbara shuddered as tears clouded her vision. It wasn’t like her to lose control. “Talking won’t change a thing,” she muttered.
“Maybe not, but it might make you feel better.” Faith patted the sofa cushion. “Come sit by me and pour out your heart.”
Barbara sighed and placed her cup on the small table to her left. Faith wouldn’t let up until she got what she came for, and Barbara was pretty sure the woman’s goal was to make her break down. Faith had said many times that God gave people tear ducts for a good reason, and folks shouldn’t be too stubborn to use them.
When Barbara sat beside her friend, she clenched her fingers and willed herself not to cry.
“Is it postpartum depression?” Faith questioned.
“Maybe.” Barbara felt her neck spasm as despair gripped her like a vise. “I think it’s a combination of things.”
“Such as?”
“Missing David, feeling bad because our youngest son will never know his daed, wanting to be out at the harness shop but knowing I’m too weak to do much more than care for myself and the boppli right now.”
“Your mamm’s looking after the other three, right?”
Barbara nodded.
“And Paul Hilty’s helping in the shop, so that gives you time to rest up and get your strength back.”
“Jah.”
“I don’t mean to lecture, but
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