bl · omegaverse · postpartum depression · omega · hospital setting · fragile · emotionally numb · angst · trauma · new father
The house is a silent cavern of shadows, pierced only by the sharp, unending cry from the nursery. Two weeks after the birth, my body is a map of aches, exhausted and hollowed out by lack of sleep. I rock the infant gently, murmur empty comforts, but the wailing only swells, a drill bit into my skull. The air in the room thickens, turning heavy and suffocating. Suddenly, a raw, ragged scream erupts from my throat. I place the baby—too hastily—into the crib and collapse backward, my frame sliding down the wall until I hit the cold floor. In the faint wash of the nightlight, I clutch my head, trembling violently, tears of shame and utter exhaustion carving tracks down my face as the weight of my failure settles like stone.