Then, Now, Me

Chapter 10: Then

I can"t breathe.

I can"t breathe.

I. Can"t. Breathe.

"Beth, everything will be okay," my mom says soothingly over the phone. "You have Emily there. Everything will be fine."

There is no end to my sobs. My chest aches with the battle happening between my persistent sobs and lack of breath. My eyes scan over to my sister sitting across the table from me with a sympathetic - yet somewhat detached - look on her face, to my newborn son, lying fast asleep in his car seat resting on the dining room rug.

"Mom," I say between gasps for breath, "you don"t understand. I can"t do this. I really can"t do this. It"s too much."

There is a pause on the phone, which is not unusual from my mom. So I go on to say, "Please. You"re not working right now. You don"t even have to work. Can you just fly out? Even for a weekend?" and then I add, "I need you here, Mom. You haven"t even seen Tristan. Don"t you want to see your grandson?"

"Sweetie," she responds, with what I sense is growing irritation, "you"re going to be fine. I promise. You have Scott to help and Emily, too. Every new mom goes through this. It"s perfectly normal."

Exasperated now, on top of panicked, I say to her, "Okay, sure. Normal. But I seriously can"t breathe. Every time I look at Tristan, I literally can"t breathe. How am I supposed to take care of a life?" My voice raises with every word I utter. I know I"m being irrational, but I can"t get a handle of the direction of my thoughts.

"Put Emily on the phone, Sweetie," my mom says. "And maybe you need to call your doctor about this. It could be something you need treated."

I hand over the phone to my sister, who doesn"t say much other than "yeah" and "okay." I"m trying to get a handle on my breathing and the shaking sobs that wrack my whole body. I"ve never experienced something so uncontrollable.

And it"s triggered with every glance at Tristan, sleeping peacefully and innocently in his car seat.

"Okay," my sister says as she clicks off my phone. "What do we have to eat around here?" And she proceeds to pull out a random assortment of items from the fridge and cupboards.

I put my head in my hands, pulling my hair from the roots. From the actions of my kid sister to her lack of sharing what just transpired in their conversation, I know with complete certainty that my mom isn"t coming.

Reaching for my phone with a shallow breath, I dial my doctor"s phone number.

OOOOO

"Scott," I begin, training my voice not to sound annoyed. "I know your mom means well, and I appreciate everything she does. Your dad, too. But it"s..." I pause, uncertain, "a little too much sometimes." And with those last few words, I prepare to be scolded.

True to form, with the mention of any kind of hint of a criticism about his parents, Scott bristles, "With everything that my mother and father have done for us, all they want is just to be a part of their grandson"s life."

"I get that, Scott, I do," I say, preparing my defense. "There"s just a difference between being a part of and being controlling."

"What are you suggesting, Elizabeth?" and with the use of my full name, I know I"m in for it now. "What is so bad about my parents coming to the doctor"s appointments? They"re just as much a part of Tristan"s life as we are. And who cares what they buy for Tristan? It makes them happy to do for us. What"s so bad about that?"

It"s in that moment that I feel the irony of the situation. I have to practically beg my parents to be involved in some small way, while I have to almost crawl out from underneath Scott"s parents. I"m beginning to feel like Goldilocks, looking for the perfect balance between too hard and too soft, too big and too small - except, unlike Goldilocks, I"m not sure I"ll be able to find a happy medium between these two sets of grandparents.

"Scott - " I begin, but he interrupts, as usual.

"Just because you"re upset that your parents don"t care to be involved, doesn"t mean you need to take it out on mine, who want to be," he blasts at me.

Knowing when to cut my losses, I let out a heavy sigh, look down at the ground, and simply walk away.

OOOOO

"Hi, Grandpa," I say cheerfully into the phone. "How are you?"

"Lizzie!" he says with his usual enthusiasm, using my childhood nickname. "I"m so glad to talk with you. How"s my great grandson?"

"He"s great, Grandpa," I respond with sincerity. "His eyelashes remind me of yours."

My grandpa laughs in his breathy way, and continues on to talk about his pediatric practice before he retired. We chat about Tristan"s sleep habits, and how best I can address this bout of crying he seems to be on lately throughout the night.

Legitimately and genuinely my hero, my grandfather can really do no wrong in my eyes. He can be overly conservative and a bit too brash in his opinions, but his passion for life and his constant desire to cherish his family inspire me in a way that very few people ever have in my life. Growing up poor, he made something of himself out of quite literally nothing and, at 90 years old, still values life-long learning. He teaches me something every time I talk to him.

"Lizzie," says in all seriousness, "do you think Tristan will be a doctor?"

I laugh heartily and respond, "We"ll see, Grandpa. He just might."

My grandpa laughs, too, and says, "We can never have too many doctors in the family, Lizzie. Make sure he understands that."

Suddenly I"m emotional. "You can tell him that yourself, Grandpa."

"Well," he trails off, and gathers himself again, "Lizzie, don"t ever forget, life is to be enjoyed. Please remember that, okay?"

I nod into the phone, recognizing his go-to phrase these days, my eyes threatening to pool with tears, "I know, Grandpa."

"Okay," he sighs and says, "do you want to talk to your grandma?" Not even waiting for my response, I hear him say off to the side, "Baby, Lizzie is on the phone and wants to talk to you." I hear shuffling, and then my grandpa say into the phone, "Okay, Lizzie, here is my beautiful wife!"

I giggle, loving their relationship, and laugh a little harder when my grandma"s now predictable response comes through the line, "Oh, Ed."