#postpartum yoga

[haumeablog]

Postpartum Anxiety and Ways to Cope with It

🌟 Embrace motherhood with confidence! Our latest blog delves deep into "Postpartum Anxiety and Ways to Cope with It," offering invaluable tips for new moms. From postpartum yoga to finding time for self-care, discover practical strategies to prioritize your well-being while nurturing your little one. Don't let anxiety overshadow the joys of motherhood—empower yourself with knowledge and support. Read now for a healthier, happier journey through early motherhood!

Blog article link: https://www.haumeayoga.com/blog/postpartum-anxiety-and-ways-to-cope-with-it/

[thetiredmammablog]

[fitnessmantram]

Lose Weight With Yoga Pilates #loseweight #reducebellyfat #bellyfatloss ...

The Truth About Tea Burn In 3 Minutes

[elixir-ayurveda]

Discover Optimal Post-Delivery Ayurvedic Treatment in Kerala, Trivandrum

The joy of embracing motherhood doesn't mark the end of prioritizing your health. Post-pregnancy, your body undergoes various changes, both physically and hormonally, requiring dedicated care. Ayurveda, with its ancient herbal therapies, offers a way to restore your body, ensuring that you relish motherhood while reclaiming your former vitality. ELIXIR Ayurveda presents an exclusive post-delivery ayurvedic treatment in Kerala, Trivandrum, offering a 14/21/28-day program (extendable up to 40 days) designed to revitalize your strength, energy, and form.

The treatment package encompasses Sootika Charya, a specialized post-pregnancy massage, and a balanced diet regimen. After childbirth, a woman often experiences physical and mental stress, resulting in debility in the reproductive organs. Under the guidance of Ayurvedic experts, this comprehensive ayurvedic approach aims to rejuvenate your body, support healthy lactation, alleviate stress, and relieve neck and back discomfort.

The regimen includes Abhyangam, a therapeutic full-body massage using curative oils tailored to relax, rejuvenate, and boost immunity. The choice of oils is customized based on your body constitution and specific needs, ensuring a holistic recovery journey.

[chaptersstudio]

To keep up with the growing demand for yoga classes Abu Dhabi, studios have started offering classes for folks of all ages and in different settings like home, office, or in public spaces. Just as yoga has become a very popular form of exercise, so have many clinics and hospitals started offering yoga classes as therapy to individuals suffering from mental disorders. 

[russellsppttemplates]

Papa bear mode (Mick Schumacher)

Mick is in full papa bear mode and his baby girl hasn't arrived yet

Note: english is not my first language. this is another long piece that I hope you enjoy (I love how we all just love dad!Mick and I'm here for it)!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy and postpartum

"Can we go tomorrow, then? I already said that I'd be taking the day off", you said to Mick, passing him the last piece of cutlery so he could put it on the drawer after you dried it, "the meeting was the only thing that I had scheduled and since that is cancelled, I have a free day for that, yes", he smiled, settling his hand around your lower back as he guided you to the living room, sitting on the sofa so you could sit next to him, his iPad on his hand so you could both look at it.

"I think I finally found the buggy for us", he announced, tapping the wide screen and opening the shared document you had created so you could have a set list of what you needed for your baby girl's arrival. Mick wanted to be involved in everything as much as he could, and when you suggested that you'd split the list of items so both of you would have less things to look up and search for, it went down as a good idea.

"This one has an adaptable pushing bit, you can regulate according to the height of the person pushing it so it's comfortable, comes with this thing where you put the nappy bag, and I've checked on your list here", he motioned, splitting the screen so both lists would be showing, "and it fits the bag we have already", he smiled, happy with his finding. You tapped the screen to see all the different pictures and features of the equipment, nodding when it seemed good, "yes, I think this is a good choice. It's good that it's adjustable, means you won't hurt your back because it's to small for you or that I will be uncomfortable because it's too tall for me", you smiled, looking up at him and stealing a kiss, "yes, and it looks sturdy enough to venture out for our walks, too", you mentioned, watching a video where the brand tested how the buggy behaved in different types of ground. You were hoping that once things settled down and you felt comfortable enough, you'd join Mick and Angie for walks as a family of four.

"I also found this crib", you mentioned, tapping the link you had pasted on the document earlier on in the day, "it looks pretty and practical, too", you noted, "she won't sleep on it for a while, I guess, because I've heard everyone say how they just sleep in the cot you put next to the bed for first few weeks", you shrugged your arms, "but at least it will be done and out of the way, and the nursery will be ready", you explained your point of you, earning a nod of agreement from your husband, "seems good to me too. We make a fine team, don't we?", he asked, cuddling you into his chest while you looked at the rest of the items you wanted to get.

The next morning, you both woke up and got ready to move your bodies. While you weren't an athete like your husband, you tried your best to engage in some form of exercise to keep active, usually some stretches and lighter movements now that you were pregnant. And because of that, you had built a nice routine to exercise while Mick did his workout in the morning.

You were tidying up, throwing your towell on the basket so you could later take it to the laundry room and then rolling up your yoga matt, walking to the place where you stored it when you nearly tripped in one of weight machines, "Y/N!", Mick said, approaching you to check how you were, "everything good?", he looked you up and down, Angie following suit as she looked up at you, "I'm fine, just didn't see the corner of it", you smiled, craddling his cheek, "no need to go all papa bear mode, at least not now", you reasoned, "yes, you're right. But maybe we should get those lock things, so baby girl doesn't walk in here and hurts herself, there are some heavy things here", he looked around, "and upstairs too, for that matter", he continued his ramble of everything he thought would be heavy and dangerous in the house, "I'll get to it once we get home from the shop", he finished.

Chuckling, you grabbed Mick's hand and laced it in yours, "there's still a lot of time until those are a concern, my love", you tried to pull him back to reality, "I know, but better be safe than sorry. And don't be so certain than I'm thinking she'll be the one to accidentally hit things, by the looks of it, you'll be too", he teased you, kissing your forehead as you made your way upstairs for a shower before leaving for the baby shopping afternoon.

Arriving at the store, you greeted the older sales assistant, showing her your list of items you wanted to get and following her as she also offered her opinions and views, "yes, I always recommend these cots where little one is right next to you in bed, they're like an extension of your own bed and they can be near the parent for feeds and changes during the night, and especially when the mother is the one getting to them in the night and she's still recovering, it's a lot easier to just roll and have the baby right there", she supported your decision, marking down on her notepad the exact model that would fit your bed, "and can we move it around? Say I want it on my side of the bed instead of hers", Mick asked, "yes, it's fairly easy to move around. This model has wheels that lock into place once you're happy with where it is", she showed the detail on the model they had on display.

After discussing all the furniture, you moved into the aisle concerning the mothers rather than the babies' sections, "again, we can never know for sure how the birth is going to go, but from my own experience and from what the clients tell me, it's better to be prepared for everything rather than run around in the newborn stage trying to buy something", she smiled softly, "we have this kit here, and it comes with nipple cream, which I would recommend you start applying a few days before the birth, a lot of new mothers swear by this trick", she winked, making you look at the product while Mick listened intently.

"Also these witch hazel pads also work wonders, if you lay them on your maternity pads or underwear, they really help cool down the area and make things a little bit less uncomfortable", she continued explaining what all the products did and how to use them to get the most benefits.

By the time you were home, sorting everything took even longer since Mick would not let you carry the bigger boxes, only allowing you to carry some baby clothes, hygiene products and a lamp to the nursery and your shared bedroom, and you couldn't help but notice his tense stance. His shoulders were stiff, he only spoke when you talked to him and the crease on his forehead was prominent. "Hey", you nudged him with your foot under the dinner table, "are you okay? Do you need something?", he asked worriedly, earning a no from you, "I should be the one asking you that. You are awfully quiet since we got home from the store. What happened? Was it something I said or did?", you wondered, receiving a chuckle on his end.

Frowning, you waited for his answer, "sorry, liebling, I don't want to offend you. And no, it's not your fault. I mean, it kind of is because yiu are the one carrying our baby, my baby", he brushed, "you and your body are doing this wonderful thing, like, you're growing organs and bones for our baby girl, you are her home", he smiled, tears filling his eyes before be frowned a bit, "but you're also the one enduring the pains, the discomfort that it is sometimes. You'll have to deal with so many things even after our baby girl is out here with us", he stretched his arm so he could hold your hand in his, his thumb rubbing your knuckles, "it's not fair, and I don't know how to make up to you", he explained.

"What made you feel like this? Was it just today?", you questioned, wanting to know where this whole thing came from, "It's just, today, at the store", he gulped, "the lady kept saying that the things we were getting were because things would be bad, like nipple cream because you'd have cracked skin there, or the witchhazel pads because you would be sore, and the band because sometimes everything would feel off on your body", he said, "and I'll be here for you as much as I can, I'll do anything and I'd do anything to take any of that discomfort away from you, but, it's bothering me, I think that's what it is", he confessed, opening up to you.

Smiling at his thoughtfulness, you tutted so he would look at you, "Mick, my love, it's all part of this. And while maybe, yes, if this was some sort of video game where I could transfer the pain of childbirth to you", you giggled, helping him relax a little bit more, "I'm sure I'll be just fine because I have you by my side, through all of it.

"So, please, stop feeling like you're not doing enough because you are. You're taking care of us, making sure I'm doing everything okay. And I have no doubt that the minute this one is her with us", you brought your laced hands to touch your bump, feeling your daughter kick, "you'll be even more wonderful. Parenthood is not measured by who does more of what, but rather how we handle it all together for the best of our family", you smiled, kissing your husband's lips as you finalised your attempt to make him feel better.

.

"Do we have to do this now?", you asked your husband, walking inside the home office to see his opening storage boxes, "you're not doing anything, but I need to get these away from here", he pointed to his trophies. His successful career was the first things that came to mind whenever you saw the wall, and now he wanted to store them away, "one day, Rora might think it is a good idea to touch these and what if they fall on her? They're really heavy and they can hurt her", he reasoned as he saw you sat down on the spinning chair, and if your stomach hadn't fluttered as he mentioned your daughter's nickname, your response would be quicker, "those are really high up, Mick, I don't think I can even reach them, let alone a baby or a toddler that, may I remind you, is still some time away from doing that", you noted, only hearing him mumbling something, "and I plan on dedicating every win to you and our little one, so these will soon be filled with new trophies", he smiled charmingly.

"You, little lady", you talked to your bump, "have a very worried and forward thinking papa, and while he can sometimes be a pain in our behind, he only does it because he loves us so much", you tapped the skin, "but we love him even more, so we are all lucky to have eachother, I guess".

.

"So, I hold her like this?", your husband asked the instructor, earning a pleased nod from her, "very well, Mick, exactly like that!".

You and Mick were at a baby class, and today you were covering the birth and what positions would be helpful whenever the pain of contractions was too great to handle and how you could deal with them, "Am I hurting you, liebling?", he asked, "no, on the contrary. This is actually really nice, I think I should walk around everyday with you like this until she's born", you chuckled, feeling how rhe pressure on your hips subsided, "you know I wouldn't mind being with you all day, you know? It would help me to keep an eye on you at all times an-", you interrupted him, "Papa bear mode is activated", you chuckled, kissing his jaw, "you're lucky I think you're insanely hot when you do that".

[damianstarastrology]

the twelfth house

when Alice Sparkly Kat wrote about the twelfth house she said "The best way to work with the twelfth house is to follow ghosts". viewing the twelfth house through this lens resonates with me as someone with twelfth house emphasis and an interest in the paranormal.

when I think of the twelfth house I picture the black lodge from twin peaks. it seems ominous and scary at first but it ultimately is something happening behind the scenes, much like how I view ghosts. being haunted by a ghost, like the twelfth house, is scarier than it seems. ghosts are malleable; you can make ghosts go away by simply asking them to. in this sense, the planets in the twelfth house are the ghosts we are haunted by. twelfth house is where all things begin and end. it isn't life and death, that is the eighth house. once something has happened it is over and it cannot hurt us anymore, like a ghost.

I'm currently reading the twelfth house by Karen Hamaker-zondag where she analyzes the twelfth house through a jungian viewpoint. she writes about how babies spend at least one year in the unconscious world during infancy as their brain develops. we absorb the energies and emotions of our parent and the collective through our unconscious minds because our infant brain has no repression mechanism. in other words, our brain cannot protect itself during the first few years of life.we have no memory of what happened during this time but on some level, we know the truth.

the sun in the twelfth house can represent a missing father figure early in life -- the father may have been absent mentally emotionally or physically -- in worst cases the father dies or is separated from the child due to a divorce, in other cases he is disinterested or doesn't have the energy for the children. maybe he comes home from work late, too tired to offer the child any attention or affection, or he avoids responsibility of the child, filling his time doing odd jobs about the house, not contributing much to the household. in many cases the sun can show a very dominant mother figure to devalues and demeans the father.

the result is a deep longing to find oneself. you dont know who you are, what you like or who you want to be, or you are embarrassed of or ashamed of who you are and what you like especially if mercury is involved or there is a link to the fifth house (ex fifth house ruler in twelfth house).

moon in twelfth house indicates an emotionally or physically absent mother figure. she could have spent some time in the hospital for a significant time after childbirth, or suffered postpartum depression preventing her from offering the child warmth and closeness it craves. other times the mother has a difficult relationship with her own mother, or struggles to accept her role as a mother.

in this case the child is hyperaware of others emotions so much that it surpasses its own. you could feel out of touch with your own feelings or not feel anything entirely. sometimes you feel everything and nothing all at once. the emotions of your mother/mother figure are subconsciously tied in with your own so much that you are unable to separate them. you long for the sense of security you have been missing all of your life.

one is not required to fend off the ghosts of their past. in the case of Neptune in the twelfth house the individual is highly attached to their ghosts and learns to live with them. Neptune in the twelfth house, on the ascendent or a connection between Neptune and the twelfth house can show a person who is more likely to suffer from paranoia, phobias and obsessive -- many find it necessary to stay connected to the spiritual realm through spirituality, religion, hellenistic/alternative medicines, yoga, dream work etc.

[haumeablog]

Breathwork and Postpartum Yoga: Everything You Need to Know

Attention new moms: struggling with postpartum recovery? Don't fret! Dive into our comprehensive guide on postpartum yoga and unlock the secrets of gentle healing and revitalization. Embrace motherhood with confidence and vitality!

#PostpartumRecovery #YogaForMoms #HealingJourney

Read Now: https://www.haumeayoga.com/blog/breathwork-and-postpartum-yoga-everything-you-need-to-know/

[thetiredmammablog]

nurture

[the1975attheirverybest]

Queen of hearts

Acknowledgements and Disclaimers: this one goes out to all the moms out there. New moms. Experienced moms. Mom-to be. Yall are heroes man. All the love.

Shout out to the mutual who helped answer my pregnancy questions. Thanks for letting me pester you. You know who you are. Any mischaracterizations of pregnancy, labor, or postpartum are completely my own.

Warnings: brief depictions of labor. Mentions of depression. Also not proof read.

***

9 months had flown by like a dream. The whole thing had felt like a movie. And Matty, having made a career out of making life feel like a movie, was wary of the whole thing. Of course they’d had their ups and downs. Worrying over what constitutes a good parent and whether they were going to fuck this child up before it even had a chance to grow up and make its own mistakes. The occasional shock over how powerful and real hormone fluctuations can be. The Braxton Hicks scare. The late night cravings and the crying (some of which was done by him, if he’s being honest). Arguing over baby names, if the kid should be allowed to play football before a certain age lest they get injured. If, being the child of artists meant that the child would be sign up for music and art lessons, or if they would wait and see what the kid naturally gravitates towards. If gender-neutral clothing was inherently boring and lifeless, or, if it was ‘too woke’ to have a baby girl in a car onesie or a baby boy is a butterfly onesie. It was, after all, a pregnancy, not a walk in the park. But he’d loved and welcomed every bit of it. And so had Jo. He’d swelled with joy watching her nest and acquire baby clothes, paint the nursery, and start a vintage stuffie collection. He’d helped her curate a little library of children’s books for kids of all ages, to make sure their baby would be guaranteed a great start, no matter how advanced they turned out to be (Jo and Matty, were, of course, convinced that their child would be a genius). Looking back, even the labor and delivery process seemed perfect.

Jo had screamed at him the whole day.

“We can’t actually go to the hospital just yet. I called. The front desk woman told me to stay put and put on some yoga music.”

Jo had unleashed a string of obscenities upon him that he has chosen to omit from memory ( he remembers them perfectly. She had asked him if he was a demented fucker or if he would like this baby to come out or a teeny tiny hole in his penis instead). He had laughed, told her that she was funny and that he was falling in love with her all over again. She’d thrown the tv remote at his head, missing narrowly.

His gravest mistake, however, was trying to document everything. He’d brought a film camera into the delivery room, which the nurses had balked at. But Matty has been used to being called eccentric so he didn’t care. He wanted to remember every single moment of this day forever. And, when Jo had failed to convince him by making the same arguments that he often proposed at his own shows, for his own fans to put the camera away and just be in the moment, she’d decided to teach him an lesson by choosing not to warn him about the messiness of childbirth. The next thing she heard him say was “oh. So much blood.” Before he’d dropped the godforsaken camera to the floor, smashing it to bits. And ridding everyone of its evils forever.

“Oh my god, she’s here, Jo! I can see her head!” He’d rushed over to her, with tears in his eyes, squeezing her hand. “C’mon, Jo. You’ve got this! One more push.”

“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. It’s too much. I just- she’s gonna have to stay in there forever.”

“‘fraid we can’t do that, Josephine” the doctor shook her head. “She’s almost out which means it’s tight on her now, if you don’t push, you’re hurting her.”

Jo instantly burst into tears.

“No, no, no! Baby don’t cry!” Matty cooed, then turned towards the doctor. “Why the fuck would you say something like that to her? Right now, as well! are you TRYING to upset my wife right in the middle of the birth of my child?” He hovered over Jo protectively, wiping her sweaty forehead with one of the rags that the nurses had brought in, and kissing her. “You’re okay, Jo. Our baby is going to be okay. Deep breaths, yeah?”

“You promise?” She whispered, too embarrassed for the nurses and doctor to hear.

Matty swears, this, was the moment that he became a dad. Knowing that his wife and child needed him to be the sane and steady one for the first time completely changed him as a person.

Though he had no business making these promises, he’d never felt more certain of anything in his life. “I promise, my love. I’ve got you. And you’ve got our baby. She really needs you right now. So….lets do this, yeah?”

Jo nodded, watching the nurse approach and take her hand to pull her back into position.

“C’mon,love. One more push?” The matronly lady encouraged.

Jo screamed as she gave it her all, Matty’s hand in hers.

“Great! You’re doing great, Josephine! Give me one more push!” The doctor smiled.

“You said that last time! Every single time you say this is gonna be the last push! You’re fuckin lying.”

With tears in her eyes, Jo screamed and cussed out everyone in the room, pushing with all her might, until finally, the baby was out. She heard cheering and congratulations erupt around the room which was her cue to lay back and finally relax.

“Dad, Would you like to do the honors? cut the umbilical cord?” The nurse had asked.

“Oh? I- erm I …should. But I don’t wanna leave you? But also I don’t wanna leave…her- I….” Years later, Matty would realize that it was, in fact, this moment, that had made him into a dad. The moment that he felt conflict between choosing to stay by Jo’s side and hold her hand through what she had just accomplished , or let go of her hand to go meet his daughter instead.

“Go, Matty, go.” Jo had encouraged him, her voice weak from screaming. She nodded as he hesitantly loosened his hold on her hand.

“Let’s fuckin do this!” His shaky hands took the surgical scissors from the doctor and made the cut. “Oh my fuckin god, hiiii” matty cried as he met his daughter for the first time. He almost reached out to take her into his arms but, then, realized that it should be Jo who gets to hold her first.

“Would you like to-“

“Yes, oh god, yes, please?” Jo sat up straight.

Matty, with fresh tears still running down his cheeks, leapt into action adjusting her pillows to support her back as she leaned forward to receive her child.

“Oh god, Matty, look. She’s so….”

“Perfect.”

Everything, about Sophia, from conception to birth, had been perfect. So, it was a complete shock to Matty (and to Jo) when things changed postpartum.

It all started with Jo sleeping in a bit more than usual. At first, Matty had written it off as her body recovering from labor. After all, she’d literally housed, sheltered, and built a human being from scratch for 9 months. She was entitled to a little bit of extra sleep if that’s what she needed. Besides, he saw this as his opportunity to step in. While Jo was pregnant, Matty felt limited in how much help he could be. He flew back and forth in between tour dates to be at doctors appointments, and to help purchase the crib and pick out the nursery colors. He drove across the country to make it to specialty bakeries and shops to fulfill the strange flavor combinations of pregnancy cravings. But none of it was comparable to literally being pregnant. So, it was only fair that he take on some of the work now that the child was born, and let Jo get her rest.

He wanted to be the best dad he possibly could. So, he dove in head first. And he missed the signs. It wasn’t until he was holding Sophia in his arms, looking at Jo, as she laid in bed, saying “it’s a baby, Matty. All it does is cry and sleep. What does it want from me?” That he realized something was deeply wrong. By then, it was too late.

Matty walked around the messy house, eyes blood shot and sore. Whether it was the crying or the lack of sleep, he wasn’t sure. He went into the kitchen, pulling out a massive trash bag and hauling in all the empty takeout containers that had been sitting there all week, shoving them all into the trash bag. He needed to step up his housekeeping game. At this rate, they’ll be living in squalor by the next few days.

He pulled the only clean mug left out of the cupboard and reached for the coffee machine that had been on since this morning, pouring himself a cup.

“Fuckin hell.” He whispered at nothing in particular. What time was it? What day of week or month even was it? He tapped his phone screen for answers. It was a Wednesday in the middle of the month. Just shy of noon. He knew that the best thing he could possibly do for his family right now would be to admit that he’s in over his head. And ask for help.

***

“Where is she now?” Adam asked, stirring the sugar into Matty’s tea before placing the mug in front of him.

“home. Erm….the cleaning service is working on the house. Her mom is there, too, to watch Sophia while she showers and stuff, so….”

Adam nodded, at a loss for words. He squeezed Matty’s shoulder gently.

“What do I do? How do I fix this?” Matty’s eyes darted between Adam and Carly, who wizzed around the kitchen, preparing dinner, with her son at her feet.

“You can’t fix it, mate.” Adam shrugged. Sheepishly.

“I know; I know. But- what do I do?”

Adam simply rubbed his friends back, searching his brain for any words of solace or wisdom.

“Matty, have you eaten anything today?” Carly asked, with her back to him, standing at the stove and stirring something that Matty couldn’t quite see.

He was offended by the question. He’d come to her with the biggest problem he’s ever had to face and her response was to ask if he was hungry? Speechless and indignant, he shook his head. “I have not. No.” He gritted, anger palpable in his voice.

Carly knew better than to take it personally.

***

Carly and Adam exchanged a look. Adam nodded, rising to his feet and taking his child from between his mother’s legs. “C’mon, little man. It’s time for bed. Let’s get into the bath. Give mummy and uncle Matty a bit of time to chat.”

Carly walked over to Matty at the dining table, setting down two huge containers in front of him. “This one’s soup. This one’s chicken and veg. Take them home. Freeze the leftovers and defrost as needed.”

“Carly, I-“

“Comfort food is good. For both of you.” She smiled brightly. “She won’t have an appetite but keep offering it to her anyway.”

“Right.”

“I’m gonna send you a list. Maybe pop into the shops on your way home and buy some of it. Baby cream, nipple pads, stuff like that.”

Matty nodded, dutifully.

“I’ll speak to Patricia and Charli and everybody. We’ll start a rotation. Check in on her and- maybe even send you off to the store a few times. There are just some girl things that she might not have on. Just some bits and bobs to make her life easier.”

“Hmm. Yeah. I suppose.”

“Matty, darling, you know who you need to speak to here. Who she needs to speak to. And it isn’t me, and it isn’t Adam, or George, or Ross, or even a doctor who will rattle off some statistics at her. Why haven’t you done it yet?”

***

Carly was right. Matty knew the person for the job. The reason that he hadn’t called his mom yet was because he was ashamed. Ashamed to admit, in front of her, that he had failed. He’d failed his wife. Failed his kid. Failed to do what he claimed his mother’s struggle had taught him. Failed to be patient, failed to be empathetic. He expected too much from her and he resented her when she wouldn’t rise to it. And he hated that about himself.

But his mom was always there. All he needed to do was call her and say “mum, I need you.”

Denise rushed over.

“Oh, matty, it’s okay.” She placed her hand over his. “It’s different when it’s your partner, isn’t it?”

“Why, though? It shouldn’t be! It’s not like she’s any more or less of a person, a woman, or a mother than you were when you had me!”

Denise rolled her eyes. They both knew Matty was smarter than this. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter, does it? You were 17 when I told you about my depression. It had been 17 years. You’d seen me differently. And you knew I loved you because you’d felt it your whole life. You were only finding out about that stuff after the fact. This is not the same. Besides, the way that you feel about your partner is not supposed to be like the way that you feel about your mother, or if it is then I haven’t done my job raising you right.”

Matty frowned and licked his lips, searching his brain for a clever comeback.

“You feel like you’ve been abandoned. Like she’s left all the parenting on you and you’re trying your best but she’s not giving you much to work with.” Denise simply stated.

Matty laughed in disbelief. “That’s absurd. She hasn’t abandoned me.”

“Course, she hasn’t. She’s got an illness, she’s not a bad mother. But that’s what it feels like. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re a new father too. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing and you want to be able to do turn to her but you can’t.”

“I- “ matty turned tongue-tied. Unsure how to respond. It made him uncomfortable to have his unspoken thoughts said out loud for him. “did dad ever���?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him. I didn’t really speak much to him at the time. Sort of….blamed him for it, actually. A part of me felt like, somehow, he had done this to me or something.”

Matty listened, wondering if Jo felt that way about him.

“In fact, why don’t you go do that right now. Call him round. I’ll get upstairs and check on Jo.”

***

Tim left Matty flipping through old photo albums and went to answer the door, smiling wide and proud when he was met with Louis at his brothers doorstep. “You’re joining the crew?”

“You didn’t think you’d have a party without me and I wouldn’t find out about it, did ya?” Louis winked. “Nah, mum called. Said to come to Matty’s instantly.”

“Get in there!” Denise appeared behind them. “And don’t call it a party that’s insensitive.”

She shut the door, beckoning both men to huddle in the corner with her.

“We’re all here for one thing and one thing only.” Denise spoke with the command of a military officer issuing orders . “To watch the baby for the next two days. We work in shifts. Louis, you’re young and still have your back. You’ll take the overnight shift. Tim you start now. I’ll step in between you two.”

The two men exchanged a smile, nodding.

“And if you want to be here off the clock, you are not a houseguest. You don’t just sit sound and expect to be catered to. Consider yourself a contributing member of the household. Roll up your sleeves and see what needs doing around here. Let’s give them some time and room to figure out what Jo needs.”

***

Matty felt his heart shatter into a million pieces inside his chest when he walked into their bedroom and saw Jo, hugging the duvet, with tears in her eyes.

He rushed over to her, but as he reached for her hand, he recalled all the times that he’d tried to initiate any form of physical intimacy over the last few weeks —a hug, a cuddle, a kiss, sex— only for her to turn him down. He pulled away, hesitant, and not wanting to pressure her into anything. He wasn’t sure if these attempts were his way of trying to comfort her or if it was himself who needed the comforting. He would never think that he could possibly understand what she was going through, but, he couldn’t deny that he needed her, too. So much so that he was certain a simple touch from her would bring him to his knees.

“Jo, Darling,” he whispered, “fuck. You have no idea how much I wish I could kiss you right now.“

Jo blushed as if it were the first time that he had ever looked at her that way.

“Your mom- Denise, she…well, she and I talked. I don’t think I’m okay, Matty.”

He sat on the bed, looking at her. She was a shell of the person that he’d fallen in love with. “It’s alright, baby-“

“How can it be alright? I’m a mother! I- I’m a danger to my own child. When I should be her first and fiercest protector!” Jo yelled, sobbing into her own hands.

The sound of her crying was worse than a knife to Matty’s chest.

“Well, it’s a good thing she’s got me, then, isn’t it?” Matty pulled her into his lap, laying her head against him.

“I love her…” Jo tried to convince herself of her own words “ I want to love her.”

“Course, you do, Jo. You’re just not able to feel much of anything right now. Because of what you’re going through. But, we’ll fix it. I promise. We will.” He planted a kiss to her head “I’m sorry, honey. I’m really sorry I let it get this bad.”

“Matty, it’s not your fault-“

“No, it is. I- I thought that I was being a good dad by prioritizing Sophia over you. I thought it was what I was supposed to do. I thought it was what was best for us all.” She felt Matty’s tears dripping down onto her hair. “But it’s you, Jo. You’re what’s best for all three of us. Sophia and I need you. We’re nothing without you.”

Jo wished she had the will or capacity to comfort him, to want to hold her daughter in her arms. She knew it must be difficult on him, and she hated being a source of his pain.

“I’m sorry, Matty-“

“No!” She felt him stiffen. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, you hear me? You’re not alone. Neither are Sophia and I. Look how many people it took to get us to talk” he giggled at the thought. “Look how many people love you and want to support you.”

He saw the beginnings of a smile on her face. “Carly has practically started a catering business trying to feed us. You should see our kitchen. It’s never been this stocked up even when we’re both at home.”

Jo let out a small chuckle, the first since Sophia was born.

To Matty, that small sound was like finding water in the middle of wandering the desert.

***

Matty walked up and down room at the pace that he had discovered was most comfortable for baby Sophia to nap. He rocked her gently in his arms whispering, “you’re gonna be a sweet quiet girl yeah? Look at mommy. She’s so pretty when she’s asleep next to your crib, don’t you think, Soph? You take after her, that’s for certain. Let’s go get mommy a blanket, yeah? Shall we? Look at you! Taking care of mommy already. Bestest baby in the world, you are.”

[odinsblog]

Krystal Anderson, a former cheerleader for the Kansas City Chiefs, died of sepsis last week following a stillbirth, according to her family. She was 40 years old.

Anderson, known to her friends as “Krissy,” was hospitalized at five months pregnant and delivered her daughter, Charlotte Willow, after doctors were unable to locate a heartbeat, friends told FOX4 News. She developed a fever a day after the birth. Her condition worsened and she battled sepsis, which eventually led to organ failure. Despite being placed on life support and undergoing three surgeries, she died early Wednesday morning.

“I feel lost,” her husband, Clayton Anderson, told the station. “There’s a lot of people in this house and it feels empty.”

In her post-NFL career, Anderson taught yoga and worked as a software engineer at Oracle Health. She “fiercely advocated” for both Black women in STEM and women’s health, according to an obituary. She also had a philanthropic streak, and worked with Big Brothers and Big Sisters of KC, the perinatal bereavement nonprofit Gabriella’s Little Library, and the Oracle Health Foundation.

“She was an absolute force for good. She made every room just light up,” her husband said.

While overall maternal deaths in the U.S. have steadily ticked up over the past two decades, Black women remain two to three times more likely to die in childbirth than white women, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. With the risks to Black mothers exacerbated by implicit bias and medical racism, they are also more likely to experience life-threatening complications like preeclampsia, postpartum hemorrhage, and blood clots.

“It’s, you know, we say, the best country in the world, right?” Anderson’s husband told FOX4 News. “Not if you’re a Black pregnant woman, it’s not—and that needs to change.”

(continue reading)

[fitnessmantram]

Yoga Pilates-Reduce Belly Fat#short #ytshorts #fitnessmantram

How to achieve your dream body

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 15

Fic masterlist

This is the last flashback😭😭 I’m emotional

Warnings: language, postpartum depression

Words: 3,3k

Aelin’s legs were burning. All of her muscles felt heavy, which didn’t help her back pain, and with a blurred vision and dulled senses, she kept gently bouncing on that yoga ball. And bouncing. And bouncing. Aelin had no idea for how long she had been doing this, but it was the only way Maisie would stop crying.

Looking around, the white walls of her new home were bare, no watch in sight. There was a TV, but Aelin was so stressed she might throw the remote against the screen. With her phone in her bedroom, the only thing she could do was look at Maisie and keep bouncing on that yoga ball.

Her baby looked blissful as ever, letting little squeals of delight when Aelin would get particularly anguished and push her legs harder than needed. It only made her feel worse.

Maisie. Her daughter’s toothless grins didn’t always make her feel rewarded, sometimes they felt more like a reminder of how oblivious her baby was to the disaster that was Aelin’s attempts at being a proper mother.

Aelin couldn’t quite swallow the lump in her throat, so it came back as tears streaming down her face, her heart constricting and bleeding as she wondered why. Why couldn’t she just muscle through this? Why did she flinch every time her baby began to cry? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about herself, her feelings and her fatigue when Aelin vowed to put Maisie first when she found out about the pregnancy?

She wiped away the mix of tears and sweat from her face, her sore legs now trembling. Aelin was a doctor, she knew what was about to happen. Her muscles were giving out, but she wouldn’t.

Maisie was a colicky baby, she’d recently found out. Hours of bouncing on a yoga ball was better than hours of listening to her scream bloody murder for no reason.

Aelin strained her legs harder, groaning through the pain. She saw Dr. Blackbeak recently, who confirmed her postpartum depression and told her to find time to put herself first, get a support system. That sounded like a joke now.

She muffled her screams with her forearm, her muscles feeling like they were being ripped to shreds. Aelin would’ve fallen on the floor if she hadn’t been at an arm’s length from the couch, but she dragged herself out of the yoga ball and laid on the couch.

Maisie’s first wail came the second Aelin stopped bouncing.

She shushed and soothed her daughter, but the longer she stayed away from the yoga ball, the louder those screams got, making Aelin wonder how her ears weren’t bleeding yet.

Her legs had rested for what? Thirty seconds? More than enough. God, she wished someone would’ve told her having a baby was harder than military training. When Aelin was getting out of the couch to get back to that damned yoga ball. She heard a car pulling up in the garage. Her shoulders immediately dropped, some tension in her body immediately being released. Rowan was here.

Except that when the door was opened, the person that came through it was Dorian Havilliard.

She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

He pointed at her crying baby. “What’s wrong with that thing?”

Aelin’s eyes darted between Maisie and a very relaxed Dorian, an idea perking her up. She pointed at the yoga ball. “Can you sit on that thing for me?”

“What?”

“Sit on that thing now!” Aelin snapped, out-screaming Maisie.

Dorian ran towards it, his hand up in surrender. When he held the baby and bounced on the ball under his friend’s commands, the silence coming from Maisie was music to Aelin’s ears. She closed her eyes and let her muscles melt into the couch.

“Thank you,” Aelin told her friend, as earnest one could get. Still, despite her legs’ protests, she got up to get her phone.

She’d been debating for days if she’d use Dr. Blackbeak’s prescription, but the yoga ball was her last straw. If she couldn’t produce serotonin enough to go through her day, those synthetic doses would have to do.

“Where are you going?” Dorian asked.

“Getting my phone. I need to buy some meds.”

“Stay down.” He pointed at the couch, and took his phone out of his pocket without letting Maisie make a fuss. ”Here, take mine.”

In a matter of minutes, Aelin downloaded her online prescription in Dorian’s phone and ordered just the antidepressant to be delivered. She had two prescriptions, but the sleeping pills would require her to stop breastfeeding, and Aelin wasn’t ready for that yet.

“She’s asleep,” he announced, “can I sit on the couch too now?”

“No, keep bouncing.”

He frowned. “But my back hurts.”

“Good thing you’re an ortho.”

Dorian rolled his eyes, but complied. When he unlocked his phone, his eyebrows went up for a second, but he quickly forced his face back into neutrality. “I thought you’d stopped taking these.”

“So did I.” Aelin swallowed, her chest tightening to think of all the hard work she did to send her depression into remission, vanished. Dorian didn’t know details or the extent of her disorder, he just saw medication boxes and likely took his conclusions, until they weren’t there anymore. She never felt like telling, and he never asked.

In an attempt to stop Dorian from asking further questions, she took a—finally—asleep Maisie from his arms and placed her on the little bassinet that stayed wherever in the house Aelin was. In this case, the living room.

Still, her friend’s eyes never left Aelin. He had that little crease between his brows and a determined look in his eyes, a telltale sign of how much the engines in his mind were working, and Aelin just wanted to evaporate and leave his scrutinizing gaze.

Truth was, Dorian is so smart it’s annoying, and it’s not hard to piece together why a woman with a history of depression is buying antidepressants two months after giving birth.

“She’s got quite the lungs, huh?” Her friend’s voice was soft.

Aelin gave him a sidelong glance. “You haven’t seen half of it.”

He snorted, but his mood sobered before he asked, “And what about Hot Lieutenant?”

“He‘s a really good dad, and he helps me take a break at night and most weekends. He's been getting shitty work schedules ever since horny jail, though.”

”And when he isn’t here?”

Aelin smiled at her baby, and wiggled her fingers against her little tummy, careful enough to not wake her up. “Then Maisy Daisy and I have some girl time together.”

“Ouch.” Dorian pressed a hand to his chest in mock-offense. “And you didn’t invite me?”

“No, and here you are,” Aelin joked about the fact that he—thankfully—showed up at her house uninvited today.

“Yeah.” He stole a glance her way, his eyes tentative. “And I was wondering if you and Hot Lieutenant wouldn’t mind seeing me more often.”

Aelin frowned, her attention fully on Dorian this time. “What do you mean?

“You know I almost only work in the mornings so I can focus on the gym, but I clearly don’t need it since…” he gestured towards the yoga ball. “Your daughter’s a little personal trainer.”

She froze, already knowing where he was getting to. “Dorian, you don’t have to—“

He held a finger up. “I won’t even ask why you refuse to hire a nanny—“

”Rowan and I decided it’s too soon to trust a stranger—“

“Then let me help!” Dorian interrupted, his voice a little higher than what was safe in a place with a sleeping baby. “Look, Aelin, this isn’t about me or you.” His face kept serious, but his eyes had a playful glint now. “Every kid deserves a rich, gay uncle. And I need to step up to unclehood.”

Chuckling, Aelin bowed her head, running a rand through it when she sat on the couch. “Can you even change a diaper?”

“No.”

She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “Can you burp her?”

“I can do a Heimlich Maneuver, treat infant musculoskeletal conditions and bounce on the yoga ball.”

Aelin threw her head back and cackled. “Perfect. You’re hired.”

“Yes!” Dorian did a fist pump. “Just talk to that broody baby daddy of yours, okay?” He hummed. “Maybe he’ll even like me after he sees what a perfectly good uncle I am.”

Yeah, that might be a problem, but she didn’t care. Rowan didn’t want somebody they didn’t trust with Maisie, but Aelin trusted Dorian. A lot. And the fact that he’s her ex became insignificant considering that Rowan made it very clear he isn’t romantically interested in her. Which was still a punch to the gut, but Aelin had bigger things going on.

“He likes you,” she lied, “he’s just… Rowan.”

Dorian pressed his lips together, trying to keep a straight face. “He looks at me as if the law is the only thing keeping me alive.”

Aelin chuckled, leaning into him. “I’ll talk to him. When can you come?”

He hummed, putting a thumb up to start finger-counting. “I have my job at the clinic in the mornings.” Another finger up. “Then I’ll get to my second job as a nanny in the afternoons.” A third finger up. “And my third, nightly job is to do very dirty things to your neighbor down the street. Rinse and repeat.”

“Gross. How’s Fenrys?”

“Good. He misses living with Rowan.” Dorian’s eyes were soft while he talked about his situationship, before he sent her a puzzled look. “How’s your lunch situation?”

”Rowan preps everything, don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian put an arm around her and slid his other hand in the air in front of them, as in a movie character showing another a new, magical world. “Because there’s this new restaurant in front of the clinic, it’s to die for. I could bring us risottos and—“

Dorian was interrupted by the sound of the doorknob turning, and Aelin would easily get distracted by the sight of Rowan in a uniform if he didn’t look so pissed.

He eyed his daughter asleep and quietly closed the door, but the coldness in his eyes told her everything he was feeling.

Rowan held a plastic pharmacy bag towards Dorian. “The delivery guy gave me this.”

“Oh.” Feeling her face heat, Aelin got up, very aware of Rowan’s eyes on her shoulder, where Dorian’s arm was. “This is mine.”

“I should go,” her friend’s voice was low and tight as he took a step away from her.

“Yeah.” Aelin sent him a weak smile. “Rowan and I should talk. Talk to you later?”

“Um.” Dorian’s eyes landed on Maisie, his hand scratching the back of his head. “Do you want me to watch her while you talk?”

“I can take care of my own baby, thank you.” Rowan’s tone was taut, he was barely able to hide his annoyance.

“Yeah, of course.” Dorian took a step back, one hand on the doorknob. “See ya.”

The second that door was closed, Aelin took Rowan’s wrist and led him to the kitchen, away from their sleeping baby. Her body was heated with anger, the hateful tone he used with Dorian ringing inside her head.

“Why would you talk to him like that?” She shouted after closing the kitchen door. ”He’ll never want to come here if you act like this.”

Rowan shrugged. “I’m fine with that.”

“I’m not! Look…” Aelin rubbed both hands against her face and sat down, gesturing to Rowan to do the same. “Dorian offered extra help with Maisie in the afternoons. I said yes.”

His face fell. “He did what?”

Aelin took a second to calm the roaring in her blood and tone down her voice. “Look, I knew you weren’t gonna like it, but guess what, I don’t like needing help either. I asked for it before, you said no because you need someone you trust. Now I found—“

“A person I trust even less than a stranger, that’s what you found.”

“Because you never got to know him!” Aelin got up from her seat, her tone turning more into a plea. “I trust him, and you should trust me on that.”

“No.” He took a deep breath, got up too and looked straight into Aelin’s eye. “I don’t know him, or his intentions, and I can’t have him here in the long term.” Rowan’s voice was getting higher by the second. “It’s day one and I already got home to find his arm wrapped around my…”

”Your what?” Aelin challenged, closed fists on her hips as she kept her chin high. “You made it very clear I’m not your wife, not your girlfriend, not even your situationship. Why do you care?”

He didn’t reply, just stood with a pained look, his jaw twitching as she watched a million different emotions she couldn’t decipher from his eyes only.

“Rowan, look.” She got closer and held his hand with both of hers. “The only reason Dorian and I started dating was because our difficult schedules were very similar during residency. It was easy, it was fun, it was comfortable, but it was never that serious.” She caressed his cheek with her thumb, her eyes soft and earnest. “And even if we were dating when I got pregnant, I never, ever, wished he was Maisie’s father instead of you.”

“I’m sorry, Aelin, I can’t do this.” His body felt heavy when he hung his head against her shoulder. “I can’t watch him play house with you and my daughter while I’m at work.”

”Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, running her fingers on his head now that he looked particularly wrecked. This was just one possible solution to a bigger problem which she couldn’t postpone the solution anymore. “But there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

They both sat back down facing each other, and Aelin took a moment to herself, her heart racing. Her family and Dorian knew bits and pieces of her depression disorder because they either witnessed her episodes or saw the pills scattered around her bedroom. Aelin wasn’t ashamed of her condition, it just never felt necessary to give anyone a full disclosure of her mental illness. Until today.

“The pills I bought today. They’re antidepressants.”

Aelin’s insides were too twitchy, her breath too shallow as Rowan slid the chair backwards, its scraping sound strident against the floor.

“Did he tell you to take them?”

Her insides fell to the bottom of her stomach. “What?”

Rowan slammed his fist against the table, his expression as tight as his face was red. “Those pills were under Dorian’s name. Everything was fine, and after one visit, you have depression and need him back into your life to take care of you. Can’t you see what’s going on?”

“Rowan, I’m trying to tell you something,” Aelin begged, her voice breaking.

”And I’m trying to tell another.” He put both hands on the table and looked deep into her eyes. “You. Are. Not. Depressed.” Rowan took a step back. “You’re not,” he repeated with dazed eyes, as if he was saying that to himself. “We’re happy. You’re just a little overwhelmed, but we’re a small, happy family.”

Aelin opened and closed her mouth, struggling to find words. All she knew was that sinking feeling in her stomach and the sudden numbness she felt.

She was taking baby steps into the water to know if the water’s cold, and it’s fucking freezing. Time to take a step back, rethink.

“Okay…” she trailed, her eyebrows pinching together. “How would you feel if I actually needed the pills?”

“You don’t…” Rowan blinked, his eyes distant. “I mean, can you even breastfeed when you take these?”

“Oh!” Aelin barked a sardonic laugh, all that ache in her chest turning into something deeper, much more sour. “I’ve been telling you I’m miserable for weeks, and that’s your first concern? My ability to breastfeed Maisie?”

Rowan blinked, his mouth hanging open for a second. “Of course I’m concerned about that,” he fumbled, “why wouldn’t I be concerned?”

“Because I matter too!” Aelin roared, and all the strength in her body left with her words, ripping through her aching throat to taint the entire house with the rage and despair she’d buried for so long.

She fell back to that chair, both hands on her face as she broke in sobs. Aelin couldn’t even take a deep breath, since the air came to her lungs in short, shaky shudders and her shoulders barely held her weight.

Rowan kneeled next to her, hugging her frame. “You do.”

But Aelin couldn’t stop thinking about his denial of her problem. She knew all about the stigma surrounding postpartum depression. What would he think?

”You do.” He kissed the side of her head one, two times. “You matter so much to me.”

Would Rowan trust her with Maisie after knowing about her diagnosis? How would she convince him she’s a good mother when most days she didn’t believe it herself?

”I���m sorry.” Rowan kissed her shoulder and hugged her tight. “Of course you do.”

Would he use that against her and try to get Maisie’s guard? Would he take her to court if he knew her mental illness was chronic, not only while Maisie is a baby?

Aelin’s first step into her own recovery was to back down.

“That’s okay. I don’t think I’ll take the pills anyway,” she lied while leaning away to caress his cheeks. “The doctor gave me the prescription in case my… baby blues got too bad, but you’re right. I don’t think I need them.”

“Thank you.” Still kneeling beside her, Rowan closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against her shoulder and released a shaky breath. “It was just a bad day, right?”

“Sure.” Aelin’s throat felt sore and thick, almost as if her own body was trying to stop her, but she managed, “Can I ask you just one more thing?”

He got up, sat on the chair next to hers and squeezed her hand. “Anything.”

Aelin felt like her heart was being ripped to shreds, but she needed to do this.

Rowan wouldn’t understand her mental illness. Rowan wouldn’t let her get extra help. Rowan wouldn’t be anything more than a platonic co-parent to her. She was letting herself be in this state for what? Pining over a man who was going to play house with her until he found some unbroken woman to replace Aelin with?

“I need you to leave.”

“Sure.” He got up, looking around the kitchen. “I need to do some groceries, do you want me to take Maisie? We—“

“Rowan,” she interrupted, “we’ve been co-parenting Maisie together in this house, right?”

He nodded, looking confused.

“Well, I need us to do this with some distance now.” Aelin’s voice was breaking, a few rogue tears streaming down her face again.

”Oh.” He took a step back, his expression blank. “You want me leave, leave.”

Her eyes were pleading as she explained, “We both agreed this living arrangement was temporary, and—“

“You’re kicking me out?” His tone was high-pitched around an incredulous laugh.

Aelin tilted her head, lips wobbling. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? Will you—“ he trailed, looking around her kitchen as if he was looking for answers. “Will you feel better if I leave?”

Aelin swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes.”

Rowan went stiff, staring with a lost look, blinking aimlessly at her until something shifted. He nodded, agreeing with her terms. In a matter of seconds, all the tenderness in Rowan’s eyes froze into cold fury, and Aelin had a feeling it’d never melt back to what it was again.

A/N: I felt like a part of me was being ripped off when I was finishing this chapter and it’s only the end of the flashbacks omfg I’m so not ready to finish this fic

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[theunstuffedpepper]

I find myself having lots of little moments of gratitude today. I’m now a week away from returning to work after just about 7 months off. What!!? The looming transition has me rethinking my lifestyle and the habits I’ve fallen into while navigating the postpartum experience this time around. I’m making some positive changes for myself and my health and I can feel the changes slowly giving me more energy and optimism.

I went to my first yoga class in a LONG time last weekend! It was humbling, uplifting, enjoyable. I’m so stiff, y’all. I’ve been realizing the connection between emotional/mental and physical health in a personal way — seeing connections throughout my life — and that was another fine example of it. My lower back is absolutely killing me these last few days and I’ve gotta keep working my way back to better back health. Yoga will be a part of that, whether it’s in the fitness studio or at home.

Feeling grateful for little things like hot showers, cups of tea, under eye masks, an organized pantry, a family walk in the snow this morning (despite very whiny children in tow), and the energy to do the annoying cleaning tasks today that I don’t normally do. (Like, do you guys wipe the front of your cabinets often, or only when you’re repulsed and shocked by them, like me??)

Here’s to caring for ourselves a bit more gently sometimes.

[monomythic]

THIS IS THE LONELIEST JOB IN THE WORLD : TO BE AN ACCOUNTANT OF THE HEART.

DOMINIC LEPOULT SERVEILLE ( JACOB ANDERSON ) is a THIRTY year-old POSTDOC FELLOW / PROFESSOR in OXFORD, GREAT BRITAIN. They were brought under Richard’s care when they were only NINE. They are known as THE SCHOLAR because they are PERCEPTIVE but also ALOOF. Let’s see what choice they make regarding the fate of Woodrow House.

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: dr. dominic lepoult serveille, ba, mphil, dphil

Nickname(s): nic. please don't call him dom.

Date of Birth: october 3

Age: thirty

Occupation: postdoctorate researcher / junior fellow at oxford university

Current Residence: oxford, united kingdom

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hair: black

Eyes: brown

Height: 5'11" / 178 cm

Notable Features: right pinky is slightly crooked; nic broke it falling out of a tree as a child and it didn't quite heal straight.

PERSONALITY & BEHAVIOR:

Strengths: perceptive, empathetic, principled, patient

Weaknesses: aloof, noncommittal, flighty, critical

Quirks: speaks with his hands when impassioned, otherwise quite still. doesn't use filler words—will just straight up pause in the middle of talking. writes all his lists on post-it notes. this has never come back to bite him, literally ever. deadpan sense of humor. more sentimental than you might think.

Vices: fruity gummies, with a particular weakness for sour worms. caffeine addict. a friend took him to get manicures once and he's been hooked ever since.

INTEREST & HOBBIES:

Interests: runs through fixations like the seasons—some notable ones include the mythology era, the coffee era, the cooking era that was actually mostly just a german knives era, and the yoga era. ask him what he's into lately.

Hobbies: reading's the obvious one, but also enjoys baseball. has been following soccer since moving to the uk.

Special Skills/Talents: near-eidetic memory. printer whisperer. rolls a mean joint, though few are privy to this information.

BECOMING A WARD

[ CW : MENTAL ILLNESS (POSTPARTUM PSYCHOSIS), SUICIDE, ALCOHOL USE, ALLEGED FRATRICIDE, PARENTAL DEATH ] the serveille family is (was) notorious for two things: their wealth, and their curse. the former is what brought them into richard woodrow’s circle, while the latter is what brought dominic into richard’s care. the wealth is a story you’ve heard time and time again: a successful family business that became a family dynasty. what began as the serveille family general store has grown into a national franchise chain—though the family is no longer involved with running the day-to-day operations of the business, they still maintain significant stock interests. realistically, the curse is just a series of undiagnosed mental illness, though dominic’s family does have a preternaturally poor track record of boat deaths on his mother’s side. in an ironic twist of events, his mother died of mental illness (killing herself after making an attempt at drowning a newborn dominic in the tub in an episode of postpartum psychosis), while his father died after he fell overboard off a yacht. rumors abound that his brother, the last person to see him, pushed him, but these were never substantiated. in the scuffle after his father’s death, dominic was shuffled around between relatives, each of whom wanted him for the inheritance. richard was ultimately contacted as a neutral, “objective” party (with no skin in the game, so to speak) that could handle dominic until the inheritance matters were settled. nobody quite expected that dominic would be insistent on staying with richard after everything was sorted out . . . but that’s a story for another day.

LIFE AS A WARD

dominic became a ward quite young and was particularly reserved at the beginning of his time at woodrow house, hyperaware of his status as a serveille and (what he believed to be) the contingency of his stay as a ward. even after becoming more secure in his continued status in richard's care, he remained just a touch too self-aware, i think. dominic is the sort of person to equate proximity as proxy, particularly when it comes to things like love and companionship, and sees life more as something to be observed than lived. dominic demonstrates love (and people and experiences and the world as he sees it) by attempting to understand it. this makes him empathetic and levelheaded (usually). this also makes him detached and clinical (often). this often places him a step removed from the rest of the world (certainly the rest of woodrow house), particularly because nic is not the sort of person to seek answers by asking⁠; he is driven by the act of discovery as much as its fruits. there’s so much you can glean from the world by looking, you know; the world is full of so many beautiful details people miss because of how caught up they are in their personal melodramas. among the wards, i imagine him to be the person with answers to every question—i also imagine him to value this greatly. i could see some of the other wards thinking that dominic believed himself to be better than the others because of it (or because of his wealth, or because of his proximity to richard, or because he never really got in trouble. pick ya fave.). re: richard woodrow iii — richard favored dominic, and dominic liked the attention. if you wanted to be uncharitable, you could call dominic sycophantic, and i don’t think you’d be entirely wrong. richard would often treat dominic more like a student than a ward, for better or for worse, and nic never really pushed for anything more. their talks were almost always academic, and functioned more like office hours than any sort of parental interaction. for him, it was a comfortable, uncomplicated dynamic; he likes to imagine it was similar for richard, as well. it perhaps speaks to his privilege that he doesn’t really get other wards with more complicated relationships with richard. richard is literally just the guy who took them in. anything beyond that was something you weren’t entitled to, but something to be cultivated, instead.

AESTHETIC

professor stereotype lol. his hair is always a little messy, no matter how diligently he styles it. style-wise, takes quite a few notes from the late, great richard woodrow iii; nic's wardrobe is primarily ralph laruen sweaters / the more casual end of the brand. whether this is an unconscious emulation of richard or a sense of laziness vis a vis discovering his personal style or a genuine enjoyment of the brand and its aesthetic is one of the few questions dominic finds himself uninterested in pursuing.

EDUCATION & EXTRACURRICULARS

studied at woodrow house until secondary school, at which point nic attended private school, mostly at richard's behest. played on the baseball team as a shortstop/second baseman. was also in the chess club. dominic was somewhat obsessive about researching programs; though he had some reservations about moving to another continent for undergrad, he ultimately felt that oxford's program was the most closely tailored to the research he wanted to do. probably had to be talked into it a bit by one of the other wards. he stayed on for his doctorate because in part because of the opportunities the school afforded him, but also in part because he's collected a lot of junk in his flat, and the idea of moving really does not appeal to him.

THEIR LIFE NOW

dominic has always thrived in academia, but in some ways it's enabled the worst of his habits. he's always told himself that he likes to live as a watcher, that it lends himself a certain objectivity about the world. but an albatross carries weight, even if you're the one to place it on your shoulders. currently, he's completing research—on the psychology of grief and beliefs about death, ironically—and teaching undergrads. just ok as a lecturer, but his tutorials are strangely popular. the fact that he's handsome is a coincidence, surely. the last time dominic visited the house was four years, six months, and fifteen days ago⁠—not that nic’s been counting, or anything. it had been at richard’s behest⁠—some foundation event that he wanted dominic to speak at. the distance isn't all that surprising. dominic was never the most sentimental of the wards, nor the most demonstrative with his affections. he has a tendency to get lost in his research, to eschew the literal for the hypothetical. and don’t get me wrong; he did care. does care. he cares very deeply, in fact, dominic keeps meticulous track of all the loves in his life, past and present and future⁠—for dominic, to be known is to be loved. but to be an accountant of the heart is lonely, it’s been said. to keep score is not necessarily to participate, and dominic, for all his intelligence, has never really understood that life and love are participatory acts as much as they are observable phenomena. he does recognize them as finite resources, however, which is why his research is so important to him. we only get so much time on earth, at the end of the day. there's a joke here about richard's death. but we can save that for later.