You Get What You Need

“Let’s just see how things are going,” murmured Clarice, scooting her stool to Lynn’s side, the better to feel her bulging belly. Her fingers tapped and prodded, far more deft than Lynn had ever imagined they would be.

Lynn leaned back, eyes closed, for a moment content to let someone else take the lead. Soon, she knew, the pains would come again, and despite the presence of the other women, there would be no help for her. Nobody else could deliver this baby for her.

And that, perhaps, was why, despite Morgan’s stubborn insistence that the fate of the kingdom did not rest on Lynn’s shoulders alone — despite the way Tommy, Alison, even Arthur claimed that the sex of this baby was immaterial, no big deal — despite Clarice calming pointing out to her one afternoon over tea that their father’s way of thinking was generally more full of dung than the night-soil wagon — Lynn could not believe it.

Whether the kingdom got an heir tonight or not was all on her. Why couldn’t anyone else see that?

Maybe part of it was the company she was keeping tonight.

Her mother, Alison — both of them were more of a mind to tell soothing half-truths than stern truths. Certainly in times like these, that was their goal. Perhaps Lynn couldn’t blame them. Perhaps they were only trying to make things better, for Lynn could not help but suspect that whenever the time came for determining whether a boy or a girl was, giving birth was not that time. She had heard of women giving birth a month or two early, and losing babies earlier than that, who delivered recognizable boys and girls.

Lynn turned away and sighed, reveling in these few moments she had before another pain came and her labor started anew. She wished she had the company from the last time she had given birth with her: Jessie and Dannie. They might have understood. They were practical, more practical than Alison or Claire or even Morgan. At least Dannie had a happy reason to be staying away. Her baby was due any day now. Jessie …

Lord, she didn’t want to think about that right now.


Lynn looked up and blinked. When did Clarice get over there? Had Lynn blacked out? There had been a time during Elise’s birth when things had gone fuzzy and she was not sure just how much she was able to remember.

But Clarice was grinning at her, a tad nervously, and Lynn had to try to smile back. “Stay with me, sis. How are you feeling?”

Lynn shot her what could only be described as a look.

“None of that.” Clarice tweaked Lynn’s nose and winked. “I’m the doctor. You have to tell me. So, let’s get to this.”

“I –” Lynn began, before another contraction hit her. Her reply turned into a low moan.

And then there was nothing to do but to ride it out, let the pain crescendo like a complicated interlude in one of her mother’s songs and then disperse again. It wasn’t time to push yet, so she could only endure. But soon …

When she could at last open her eyes and breathe normally again, she saw that Alison, Morgan, and Claire had all leapt to their feet. Lynn shot them all a wan smile before she leaned back against the chair, panting. Slowly — Morgan first, Alison following, and finally Claire — they all sat down again.

“I’m going to have a look on what’s going on down there,” Clarice said, “all right?”

Lynn nodded, and Clarice bent — Lynn wasn’t sure how, given how big a bulge Clarice’s own baby was in the front of her dress — to examine her privy parts.

“You always tell me — oh! — exactly what you’re doing,” Lynn murmured.

“Isn’t that only polite?” Clarice murmured as her fingers continued to poke and prod.

Lynn didn’t answer. The only way to keep her legs from snapping shut was to focus on something else — say, the picture that Elise had given Tommy in all solemnity, and that he had pinned to the wall just across from their bed. It was the first thing both of them saw when they woke in the mornings. The day he had done that, Lynn had wept for almost half an hour after seeing it. She had blamed it on the pregnancy, if only to keep herself from feeling as mad as she was sure she looked.

And the worst of it was that she hadn’t even felt sad!

“We’re almost there,” Clarice said, coming up again and straightening herself on her stool. “You’ll be pushing any minute now.”

“… I know, Clarice. I’ve done this before.”

“Aye, so have I. You don’t think I’d come to you without any practice, do you?” Clarice winked.

“No … but Clarice, you haven’t done it from my position.”

Clarice paled at the mention, but it was not long before a determined grin appeared on her face. “Well, I will in about six weeks!” She patted Lynn’s belly. “And come now, aren’t you excited? You’ll meet your baby any time now!”

Lynn could not answer. Almost without her consciously willing it, her head lolled to the couches where sat Alison, Claire … and Morgan.

Her mother was looking right at her — hardly a surprise, really, given everything. She was grinning as she always had when Lynn was sick or bruised or needed a splinter pulled from her finger. It was the kind of smile that was three parts nerves and one part reassurance. You’ll be all right, that smile said. I promise. I — I haven’t the least idea how I will make you all right — but you will be all right!

This was the first time Lynn had watched her mother smile like that … and watched the smile drop right from her face. “Lynn!” She jumped up and ran to her, her hands caressing Lynn’s shoulders. “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Lynn?” Clarice yelped. Her head went back down between Lynn’s legs, then popped up again. She started to prod Lynn’s belly. “Lynn, I’m not feeling anything — unusual. What’s the matter?”

“Easy, doctor.” That was Morgan, rising almost languidly to stand next to Lynn. “I’ve got this one. You watch what’s going on below the neck, and I’ll take care of everything above that.” She smiled at Lynn, more gently than Lynn was expecting. “Talk to me, Lynn. What’s on your mind?”

It was amazing how those four words could open up such a floodgate. At least, they had at other times — when Lynn wasn’t in labor, for one. When a pang was coming on —

Lynn felt her mother’s hands tighten on her shoulders as she made shushing noises, and Clarice was calling on her to breathe. Lynn breathed. And for a moment — for a moment, she took refuge in the contraction. She didn’t have to think here. She had only to feel, and to breathe, and to listen to her body.

It was not time to push. Not yet. But any time now —

When the pain subsided and the world came back into focus, Morgan was still standing there, smiling somewhat expectantly. Lynn swallowed. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

“Lynn!” Clarice gasped. “Don’t you worry about a thing. We — we won’t let anything happen to you! Or the baby! Tell her, Mother — Lady Morgan!”

“I think Lynn already knows that,” was Morgan’s only reply.

Lynn hung her head. Yes — she did already know that. She even believed it. It would have been easier if she didn’t.

“I don’t want to fail again,” she whispered.

“Lynn, sweetheart,” Alison called from the couch, “giving birth to a healthy baby is not a failure!”

A healthy baby — Oh, Lord! Lynn thought. What if her baby was a daughter, and wasn’t healthy? What if her own diseased mind had harmed her baby? She’d never forgive herself, and she doubted even generous Tommy would forgive her for that —

Morgan’s voice cut through the clawing thought like a sword severing a rope. “Your baby is going to be just fine. Trust me. He — or she — is perfectly healthy, from everything I can tell. Don’t you worry about that.”

“That’s right,” Claire murmured, massaging Lynn’s shoulders. “That’s absolutely right. Listen to Morgan. We’ll take good care of you and the baby.”

Lynn leaned her head back into her mother’s stomach with a whimper.

“We’re right here, baby. My poor baby,” Claire murmured. “You’re going to be just fine. I promise.”

“But in the meantime, while we still have time for something approaching conversation — Lynn, don’t you think it might be nice to give Elise a sister?” Morgan pointed out. “Look how close you and Clarice are. Don’t you want something like that for your daughter?”

Lynn’s eyes swiveled to her sister, took in her smiling face. “Lynn … you’re the best sister a girl could ask for, you know that? And I know Elise would be just as good as you. She’d love having a baby sister around.”

“And Tommy would love having another little girl to spoil,” Morgan pointed out. “Alison — wouldn’t you and Arthur love another little granddaughter?”

“I hope we get lots more little granddaughters,” Alison replied. And — somewhat to Lynn’s surprise — her grin seemed genuine.

“But …” Lynn whispered. She knew all this. Her mind had known it for a while, and even expected it. She had watched Arthur and Alison closely: there was no difference between how they treated Elise and Celeste versus how they treated Corentin. And Tommy? She didn’t think even Tommy would have the energy to dote on a boy more thoroughly than he doted on Elise.

But knowing all of that did nothing to dissipate the leaden fog that hovered over her soul. It was stubborner than even Morgan. It cloaked her in feelings of failure even when she was doing everything her power to be a good wife, a good mother, a good princess. There was nothing she could do to make that fog happy.

Except one thing: Have a boy.

Yet there was nothing she could do to —

Lynn suddenly yelled as another pain hit her, stronger than all the others. She crashed forward with the force of it.

“Easy, Lynn, easy!” shouted Claire — or was it Clarice? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what any of them said now. This was the sign she had been waiting for.

It was time to push.

It was amazing, how that was able to make the fog lift as nothing else in the past months had. But there was work to be done, and no arguing with the taskmaster. Apparently her father was wrong in one thing. When women’s work needed doing, there was nothing that a man could say that would or could gainsay her.

Clarice was telling her to breathe, slow and easy; Claire was telling her to push. Morgan wasn’t saying anything at all. Lynn could hear something coming from Alison’s general direction, but whatever it was was too soft and fast to make out. Perhaps it was a prayer. Later, Lynn would remember to feel grateful for that. In the meantime, she was too busy.

She would not remember very much of the time of pushing after the birth. She didn’t remember much when it had happened with Elise, either. That was probably by design — the Lord Wright’s — because if women remembered too well what it took to bring one child into the world, who was to say that their men could convince them to have another?

Lynn kept her eyes closed through most of it — it was easier to concentrate. She would not see her baby come into the world, but then again, she wasn’t at the best angle for viewing anyway. Clarice had that angle.

“I can see the head,” Clarice said, the first clear voice to cut through Lynn’s haze. “Keep pushing, we’re almost there.”

Lynn looked up for half a second. She had no idea how — or why — but Clarice was looking up at that moment too. Clarice didn’t say anything, only smiled.

If Lynn had needed any more help or encouragement to get her through this, that was it.

She knew when the baby slipped free from her — how could she not? Even if she hadn’t been able to feel it leave her, she would have heard the moment its mouth hit the air. Her baby sent out a hearty wail that was somehow more reassuring than all of Elise’s laughs and coos and lisped words. But that was only to be expected.

There was still work to be done — the afterbirth to come, her body to come to shuddering terms with the fact that it was no longer carrying a child — but the worst was over. Lynn could breathe again, and soon relax.

But she didn’t look at the baby yet. The women were cheering around her, but that told Lynn nothing. They had cheered just as much when Elise was born.

She stared at the ceiling for a moment, just breathing for as long as she could. Then — inexorably — her eyes moved to the wall beyond Alison.

Elise’s drawing.

Tommy loved that drawing. Tommy loved that girl. And hopefully — no matter what Lynn had delivered tonight — he would still love her too.

She closed her eyes again, hearing water splash and pour. Hearing her baby loudly protest every last drop. Elise hadn’t been that quite that forceful in her first few minutes. A creeping suspicion rose over Lynn: she and Tommy might just be in a bit of trouble with this one.

“Lynn!” called Clarice, gently chiding. “Lynn, look up! He’s all clean now — don’t you want to see him?”

Lynn blinked. “H–him?”

“Aye! It’s a boy! Seems like he has red hair like Prince Tom — and Mother, I think he has your eyes!”

Lynn looked. Clarice had already put a little shift over him — but unless she was lying —


A boy.

Lynn had delivered a son!

She waited — she waited for the sun to break through, burn off the fog for good and for all. She had done her duty, as all virtuous women should, she had kept the succession going. Surely, surely, she might be allowed to be happy now? Please — mayn’t I?

But the fog did not leave her. Instead it settled in, twice as thick, surrounding Lynn and hemming her in.

That was when she knew that all her efforts, her pain, her toil, were still not good enough. Not nearly good enough. Virtuous women didn’t just give their husbands a son — they gave them sons.

The last thing Lynn saw before the tears began and the sobs choked her vision away was Clarice leaning her son on her shoulder, shushing him and cooing into his little, perfect ear.

Perfect, but not nearly good enough.


“Wright, Lynn, isn’t he perfect?” Tommy was gushing as he held their baby to his nose. Lynn tried to smile.

An hour, perhaps two, had passed. Enough time for her to get over that first fit of tears — that the women seemed to chalk down to being tears of joy, Morgan possibly excepted — and feed her son for the first time. He suckled just as Elise had: warm, nesting, knowing just what to do without Lynn needing to do more than make sure she held him near enough to her breast for his little mouth to reach. When he was done, she had to burp him and hold him close for a cuddle, just as she had with Elise. He had been just as soft and sweet-smelling as her, too. Really, with the napkin on, what was the difference between a boy baby and a girl baby?

But then Lynn and her son had been separated; Alison to take the baby downstairs to show to his father, to both of his grandfathers, to his Uncle Accolon and Uncle Freddy. As for Lynn, she had been helped into a big tub full of warm, soapy water and allowed to lounge as long as she liked. Clarice and her maid had helped her wash her hair and her body both. Then, when Lynn had had enough of pruning, she was helped into her favorite nightgown and then helped into bed. That was no different than it had been with Elise, too.

And now, as the churchbells rang up and down the kingdom outside, Tommy was here, and so was her boy.

“Do you still like Arthur for a name?” Tommy asked, bringing the baby up to nuzzle his nose, just as he had liked to do with Elise — as he still liked to do with Elise. “If not, speak now or forever hold your peace, love.”

Lynn did her best to smile back. It was hard, through the fog. “Of course, Tommy.”

Tommy froze. He brought the baby — little Arthur — down. “Lynn?”

Lynn turned away. All she wanted to do was to close her eyes, burrow under the covers, and maybe indulge in a good cry. Why? Lynn cried inside. Why was it that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, it was never, never enough?

“Lynn? Love? What is it?” The alarm was rising in his voice now. Lynn had to say something.

“Do — do you think — Elise will be happy?” Lynn forced herself to ask. Was Tommy even thinking of Elise still?

“A little brother to boss around? Oh, she’ll be thrilled!” Tommy laughed — just as he would have laughed yesterday. So at least that was still all right.

“But the question,” Tommy continued, the laugh suddenly quite gone, “is are you happy, Lynn?”

Lynn didn’t answer.

Without a further word, Tommy kissed Arthur’s head and deposited him in the cradle at the foot of the bed. It was Elise’s very cradle. Tommy had sworn that all of his children, boys and girls, heirs and not, would sleep in the same cradle for their first few days and nights. He said he would only make an exception for twins — or triplets, he had added devilishly.

Then, Arthur safely bestowed, Tommy climbed into the big bed beside Lynn. “Talk to me, love. What is it?”

How was it that Tommy and Morgan could be so different — so very different — and yet still have that talent of making Lynn talk whether she desired it or not?

“He’s not good enough,” Lynn whispered. “We’ll — we’ll need at least one more — or two — or three, or –” Oh, Wright! How many more do I need to have? When can I get to be happy with the babies I have already?

“Lynn. Lynn, no.” Tommy pushed her hair, still damp, back from her face and kissed her cheek. “He’s perfect. Don’t think he’s not good enough. He’s perfect, just like Elise was — and still is, if you ask me — perfect. We’ve got the two perfectest babies in the kingdom.”

“But — but we’ll need more!” Lynn half sobbed. “An heir and a sp-sp–” She couldn’t even say it. She was starting to sob on the very word.

“No son of mine is going to be a spare,” Tommy replied. “And no daughter, either. Lynn, of course we’ll have more children. You want more than just two, aye? You’ve always wanted more than just two, haven’t you? Remember when you told me that seven was your lucky number, and so you wanted that many children?”

“I just want to stop feeling like this!” Lynn sobbed.

“And you will,” Tommy promised. He slipped an arm around her shoulder and edged closer to her. “My poor Lynn. Of course you will. We just — we just have to get you through this, and you will be just as happy as you used to be. And we will get you through his. Me, and my parents, and your mother and your sister and Morgan — we will all get you through this.”

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Lynn whispered, even as the tears kept coming. “I’m so sorry.”

“Lynn, love, what do you have to be sorry for? You can’t help it.” He kissed her hair and held her close even as she cried against his doublet. “It’s all right, love. It’s all right. We’ll get you through this.”

Lynn could only nestle next to him and pray he was right. For Elise’s sake, for little Arthur’s sake.

And for her own sake, too.


12 thoughts on “You Get What You Need

  1. Bors sucks. I mean yay that Tommy has an heir (and Arthur, awesome name. I hope someone *coughKaycough* πŸ˜‰ thinks to call him Wart. Hopefully he will take much after his paternal grandfather and skip being anything like his maternal one.)

    But Lynn shouldn’t be thinking about the next one and the next one. 😦 She’s spent ever since she got knocked up hoping for a boy and now that she’s got one, it’s not enough. And that’s why Bors sucks rotten eggs and horse tushes.

    Bravo to Clarice for mentioning that Bors is full of shit. And bravo to the mother brigade for trying to bolster Lynn’s spirits. Even if it didn’t work.

    I hope Bors dies a very embarrassing death, I’d say a heart attack on the can, but something as small as Bors’ heart stopping probably couldn’t kill him. Besides I would so pity the poor valet who had to deal with the–er fall out…

    • Tee hee, I had to name Tommy’s firstborn son Arthur. They’re setting up a dynasty, yo! The sooner they can get an “Arthur II” on the throne (provided that Tommy & Arthur live long and healthy lives, of course), the more legitimate Albion will look.

      Yes, Bors sucks. He sucks a lot. He’s drilled the “heir and a spare” thing so far into Lynn’s head that it will be a job and a half to get it out. And the worst is, thanks to the Heir Club for Men in Albion, some of what Bors is saying is just plain common sense. (I.e., that it’s a good idea to have two sons, in case something happens to the first one.)

      *shudder* Bors’s valet is already, I’m sure, quite long-suffering and put-upon. I don’t think I’d want to subject him to that. But yes, when the time does come for him to die, I will try to think of the most humiliating circumstances possible in which to make it happen.

      … How about a heart attack in the middle of the whorehouse? He doesn’t have to be in flagrante, but just being in the whorehouse ought to be plenty embarrassing, because, you know, within 10 minutes the gossip brigade will have it that he was in flagrante. πŸ˜‰

      Thanks, Andavri. πŸ™‚

  2. Bors could always pull a Tywin Lannister and get shot with a crossbow while on the can. Of course, the disadvantage would be that no one wants to see pictures of Bors on the can… but hey, it could always happen off-screen?

    Aww, little Arthur πŸ™‚ I’ll admit that I didn’t consider Lynn not being satisfied with only one son a possibility–my concerns for her having a son were more along the lines of a noticeable difference between how she treats her sons and how she treats her daughters–but wow, all those years of Bors didn’t miss a fibre of her being, the poor girl 😦

    I hope Tommy tells Morgan about this talk. Lynn needs all the help she can get.

    • But, Van, if there was a crossbow involved … somebody would have to shoot it! Which would make it murder! Do you really want somebody in trouble for murder for killing off Bors of all people? πŸ˜‰

      No, I don’t think Lynn would be satisfied with only one son — and those pregnancy hormones? Yeah, they’re not helping. Maybe once things calm down and she can talk more with Morgan, she can start to approach equilibrium. And if worst comes to worst, hopefully the talk therapy + a spare or two will slay the worst of Lynn’s demons.

      But we’ll see how she treats her kids … that’s coming up later.

      Tommy will definitely be telling Morgan about this talk, don’t you worry about that. He knows how much trouble Lynn is in.

      Thanks, Van. πŸ™‚

      • What if Bors dies of extreme constipation? Then he’d be not only figuratively full of shit, but literally as well. Poetic justice at its finest! πŸ˜†

        I hope Lynn manages to vanquish most of her demons before the spare(s) comes along. If she has the spare(s) first, it’s likely that more of any relief she feels on this front will be of a sense of having “done her duty” than having fully realized that she’s more than just a womb to grow heirs. She needs that extra growth, not just for herself, but for her children as well, especially her daughters.

      • Nuh-huh! Well, okay, technically someone would have to shoot it, but nobody says it’s gotta be shot AT Bors for it to hit him. There’s always ricochet or a misfired crossbow. Haven’t you ever seen Disney’s Robin Hood? Old Betsy practically kills any number of people if not for quick ducking/jumping! If the bolt was shot at something else, it’s accidental death, not murder even if it does kill Bors.

        And I think him keeling over in the whorehouse would just bring bad publicity to Marigold’s and they really don’t deserve it. Who would ever want to patron the whore from the rumor? Even if it is Bors, married man [supposedly] dies in the midst of huffin’ n’ puffin’? How many other people are gonna take that chance? Bors has ruined enough lives, he doesn’t need to take one of the girls out with him.

        Besides, again who’d believe his heart killed him? No, people’d start talking poison or some rare disease caught from Marigold and villify plantsims all the further. No, no, he needs to be safely away from the whorehouse when he goes.

        A wagon carrying some refugee’s belongings hits a bump and a chamber pot flies off the wagon and hit’s Bors’ head, shatters and he falls over onto the pavement impaling himself on the shards in front of church? That’s an act of Wright!

        Or I kinda like Van’s poetic justice idea.

        Or he chokes to death on dinner while yelling about the way the world should be?

  3. Wow. Poor Lynn. At least she recognises that it’s not okay for her to be feeling that way. And everyone around her is telling her that the Bors attitude is ridiculous rubbish – as if Dannie or Jessie would say any different! I completely didn’t expect this either, but now it’s happened it makes complete sense. But I think that with everyone supporting her, it will eventually lift. I wonder what Bors’ reaction to the birth of little Arthur is? Was he downstairs, waiting for the news with Arthur (the elder I suppose he’ll now be called :P) and Tom etc? I wonder if/what he’ll say to Lynn…

    How cute were Tommy and little Arthur together! I hope Elise is happy to be a big sis. Apparently when I was younger I used to guard my baby sister’s play-pen thing! πŸ˜›

    Emma πŸ™‚

    • Yes, Lynn has indeed made some progress! She knows something is wrong, and she’s getting help. And even if her subconscious hasn’t jumped on the “Bors is an idiot” bandwagon, having that constant reinforcement might be working its way into her conscious mind. Then we can only hope things get better.

      Bors was downstairs with Arthur I, Tommy, Freddy, and Accolon. (This is his daughter in labor AND the birth of his grandchild.) He was absolutely ecstatic — but so was everybody else. Even though Arthur, Alison, Tommy, et al. were trying to downplay the importance of getting a boy THIS time to Lynn, the fact remains that wee Arthur is an heir. The throne and the dynasty are that much more secure. Plus, (physically) healthy mommy + healthy baby = cause for celebration. Everybody in that room was dancing for joy.

      However, Bors has not been allowed near Lynn yet, and probably won’t be until she’s more stable.

      I think Elise will be a little weirded out by the new baby, but she should get used to him. At least she should be too much of a sweetheart to do to Arthur what I did to my little bro, namely, whap him over the head with a plush toy.

      Thanks, Emma!

  4. Yay, welcome to the world, little prince Arthur. (that just sounded wrong, anyways….) It’s so sad though, to see Lynn struggeling like this, esp. now that she has given the kingdom it’s heir. She has two beautiful children, but yet she’s worried, scared and unhappy. Bors has really done a number on her. 😦 I still think Bors may have to be the one to talk to her. I know, I know… It would probably be easier to tell the wind to stop blowing etc. but still… Even in his twisted mind, he must, MUST, love his children somewhat, even his daughters! Even if he didn’t think anything wrong with what he did, surely he wouldn’t want them, esp Lynn, to suffer like Claire did?! I sure hope she’ll get better at some point. Is it maybe post-partum depression? I was lucky enough not to suffer from that, but the constant unhappiness (when she was happy at some point) and feeling like a failure may not only be Bors’ fault – if she has ppd… That could maybe be harder to “heal” though, without meds etc. Not sure, since I didn’t have that problem, but I heard that it can turn dangerous if not healed. Often times when “good” women suddenly snap and kill their children etc it’s because they had/have post-partum depression which was never recognized and treated as such. That would be just aweful!!! That being said, I really hope Lynn gets to feel better soon!

    • I agree that it may partially be PPD- I had a brush with it that was very similar to Lynn’s reaction to Arthur- “Why am I not happier? I should be thrilled. How could I fail at being happy?!” It’s a vicious cycle, but she has plenty of support around her (much like I did) and they’ll all pull her out. I think it’ll really help Lynn if she sees Elise playing with little Arthur.

      And for Heaven’s sake, keep Bors the hell away from her right now! He’ll just praise Arthur’s birth and go on and on about how Lynn is FINALLY doing her duty and being a good wife and queen, etc., etc., and Lynn isn’t strong enough to tell him that Elise wasn’t a failure and neither is she.

    • Little Prince Arthur will definitely be getting a nickname to differentiate himself from his grandfather, so don’t worry about that. πŸ˜‰

      If somebody could smash it through Bors’s head just what he did to Lynn and just what he needed to say, SINCERELY, to help undo some of the damage … then maybe Bors would be the one to talk to her. But I have to agree a bit more with Naomi on this one: I don’t think Bors is the right person to have around Lynn right now. He is still a bit clueless (especially since, again, at least some of what he’s preaching is only common sense). He needs to get hit hard with a clue bat, as Andavri would say, before he’d be any use.

      I think the pregnancy hormones are certainly not helping matters, especially since there is such a thing as pre-natal depression, too. Add that to Lynn’s general depression and you have a recipe for trouble. Luckily, even without meds, I think Lynn has a really good chance. Like Naomi pointed out, she has tons of support. Plus, Claire was in a heck of a lot worse shape than Lynn was before she got help — and Claire pulled through. I’d call that a good sign.

      Naomi, it might be a few months before Elise starts playing with Arthur — but hopefully once that happens, it will help. πŸ™‚

      Thanks, Saquina, thanks, Naomi! πŸ™‚

  5. Poor Lynn 😦

    As a new mother myself I couldn’t help getting a bit nostalgic over the birth of my own baby boy (two months ago! Time flies). It breaks my heart to see Lynn clearly already suffering from post-partum depression; especially after all she’s suffered. Please let her next baby be the truly amazing and beautiful experience it’s supposed to be. She deserves to be happy.

    I’m addicted to your stories btw. So much so that I’m far behind in telling my own, even with the excuse of a new baby already cutting into my simming πŸ˜‰ I am,however, thoroughly enjoying the gorgeous outfits/gifts that you so generously share at PBK. I do hope you will not object to my sims wearing them, should I ever get around to posting more chapters in my own sim tales.

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