The tears in Tina’s eyes started to spill over and Bette sighed. She hated it when Tina cried.

“Tina, baby, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” She whispered, pulling her closer, and gently kissing her on the top of her head.

Tina’s arms wrapped themselves around her wife’s body, and she remembered how good Bette was at cheering her up.

“Do you promise not to be mad?” she asked quietly, gazing up into Bette’s doe eyes.

“Of course.” Bette said softly, giving Tina a reassuring smile.

“Okay. I… I have postpartum depression.” She said, her voice so quiet if Bette were any farther away she wouldn’t have heard it.

“What?” Bette asked, her voice barely louder than Tina’s. “What does this mean?”

“It means that I might not be able to form a healthy relationship with my daughter, Bette! My own flesh and blood! Did you know mothers sometimes kill their children over this? This is fucking serious, Bette, and I don’t know what to do, so I’m just going to my therapist and doing everything he tells me to.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

 Bette was shocked and angry. How could Tina withhold something like this from her? She knew their communication hadn’t been perfect, but this wasn’t something little. This was huge.

“I was scared of what you might think. I mean, I know I’m not perfect, but this is fucked up.”

Bette’s resolve crumbled upon hearing her words and taking in the sight that was Tina. Even though she looked completely and utterly exhausted she was still beautiful.

“No, it’s not fucked up. It’s natural. And I know it’s hard, but we’re going to get through this together, all right?”

Tina nodded and buried her face in Bette’s chest.