Something Had to Give

by Trish D.

  My mood improved over the next few days until the day of our long trip to Charlotte came. I woke up nauseous that morning and it lingered the whole car ride. We had to stop multiple times when I thought I was going to be sick on top of my bathroom breaks and stops for food. When we finally got there, all the preparations I had done to deal with my family went right out the window. My anxiety shot up when I saw Craig's truck in the driveway. We sat in the car in the driveway for at least 10 minutes as I tried to gather myself. We probably would have stayed longer if Daddy would not have opened the front door and motioned for us to come in. I wasn't ready to face them and wanted desperately to tell Jason to back the car out and drive back to Tennessee. That was ridiculous though. I had to own up to my actions, I took a deep breath and we went in.

  From the moment I walked in the door, it was like I was visiting a totally different family. I had gone from being virtually invisible my last visit to being bombarded at the door with hugs. Even Craig managed to greet me with an awkward hug. Shanna offered to let me hold Ingrid shortly after I got there while she helped Mommy finish dinner. As I sat there feeding her a bottle, it hit me that I was just a month or so away to doing that every day. It made me feel excited about my baby coming and experiencing those types of bonding moments. That moment was the beginning of a great evening and night with my family. Aunt Michelle and my cousins joined us for dinner where we sat at the table talking and laughing long after we finished eating. It was a good time that was much needed to take my mind off school. When we finally got up to clear the table, Jason squeezed my and hand, which seemed completely random, but when I looked at him and saw his smile I couldn't help but smile back. It was if we both knew at that moment that everything was going to work out.

  It took two days for the subject of school to come up.

  "So Cheryl, how did you end up fairing this semester in school? Your mother and I kept trying to call you after exam week."

  Immediately my stomach started to form knots and I didn't know if should lie and say that it went well in order to avoid ruining the mood or tell the truth. While I knew I could easily lie, I also knew that my hesitation before answering would probably give me away. "It didn't go as well as I expected, but after I have the baby, I can take classes over and get back on track."

  "Well I know it had to be difficult with the pregnancy, but I know you will figure it out."

  "Of course she will figure it out. She's a smart girl. Just know your mother and I are here for you if you need us." That was it. There were no disappointing looks or negative comments. I was glad that I had been honest and had their support.

  We stayed in Charlotte through New Year’s and headed back to Tennessee early New Year's Day. Within a few days I came down from my high of the great visit with my family. It was the day that I knew classes were starting back and I was at home doing absolutely nothing. That whole week, it hit me hard that I had no notes to read over, no assignments to complete, and no tests to cram for. I had to find something to do to keep me busy, but I didn't know what. I thought about finding a job but I knew chances of someone hiring me at nearly 9 months were slim to none. Still Jason encouraged me relentlessly to apply, knowing if I didn't figure something out, I was going to go back into a dark place. To appease him, I put up a facade like I was diligently looking for jobs, but in reality, I only applied to two jobs. There were so many listings I came across that I would have loved to have, but I was too afraid of rejection to apply. I just couldn't handle anything else going wrong.

  My other option to finding a job was to go back to volunteering at the hospital. They still had what I considered to be stupid limits on how many hours and days I could come, but I figured it was better than nothing. It would give me something to do until the baby came. The two jobs I applied to were in the mental health field. They were not jobs I was thrilled about, but I met the qualifications with my bachelor's degree. I didn't expect to hear anything back simply because I felt like I was in the midst of a string of bad luck and nothing that I wanted to happen would actually happen. The first day I was set to start back volunteering, my phone rang early in the morning as I was getting dressed. I almost ignored the call since it was a number I did not know, but when I realized that very few people with a Chattanooga area code would be calling me, I quickly jumped to answer the phone before they hung up.

  The person at the other end of the call was a bubbly girl named Ann from a place called The House. After telling me about the position, I was invited to come in and interview. I immediately agreed and hung up the phone with a smile until a kick from my unborn son reminded me that I was visibly pregnant. Though companies were not supposed to discriminate due to pregnancy, it was very likely to happen. I went on to volunteer, but the whole time, I was obsessing over what I was going to wear, what I was going to say, and how I was going to be so impressive to them that my pregnancy would not hinder my chances of being hired. Jason was beyond thrilled when I told him the news and celebrated like I had already gotten the job. The next day I came home from volunteering to an outfit he had spent the whole day picking out for me to wear. The outfit reminded me of something grandma would wear and made me look even larger than I already was, but I smiled anyway, appreciative of the gesture.

  I woke up feeling poorly the morning of my interview. It only got worse once I put on the horrible outfit Jason had purchased for me. I wanted to just say, "screw it" and get back in bed. The only thing that changed my mind was the fact that Jason was so pumped for me and I didn't want to disappoint him anymore than I already had. I arrived to The House 15 minutes before my scheduled interview, so I decided to sit in a parking lot across the street to get my mind together. The spot I parked in gave me a direct view of The House where I watched people come in an out to sit on the porch to smoke or to go walking down the street. It was hard from watching to understand exactly what kind of place it was. I had no idea what I was walking into when I drove across the street and walked in but I knew I had to give the interview my all.

  The interview was nothing like I imagined. I was given a tour by one of the members who were visibly nervous, but extremely friendly. I then had my interview in a large room with about a dozen of the members and staff where I was asked questions and invited to have lunch with them. It was during lunch that my pregnancy came up. A guy named Tom brought me my tray and with a polite tap on the back said, "I convinced the cook to give you an extra helping since you're eating for two."

  "Aww thanks, that’s very kind of you." It caught me off guard since I had been so busy talking with everyone that I forgot that it was an interview I managed to smile anyway.

  "How do you know she's just not fat?" Another outspoken member chimed in with a chuckle.

  "Well she looks like she's about to pop at any minute." Yet another member added.

  At this point all the attention was on me and I when asked directly by the director, the elephant in the room was addressed. They all cheered and congratulated me when I told them that my baby boy was due in a just a few weeks. I had to chuckle at the fact that they were more excited than my parents when I first told them. Two days after interviewing, I was called and offered the position with The House in which I graciously accepted. When I hung up, I had to pinch myself. It seemed too good be true that they were hiring me while so pregnant but I was excited and grateful nonetheless. For once, it was something that was finally going right for me.

  For the next week I went through training in the different units of the House. It was the first time I had been around a large group of mentally ill people, which made me nervous at first. During that week I met and bonded with some of the most dynamic and misunderstood people. Until then I wasn’t aware of how underserved the population was. The struggles with constant federal cuts made it so difficult for so many of them to have basic living necessities and access to proper health care. It opened my eyes to the many barriers to getting them integrated into society. I went home each day feeling like I had foun
d a new passion. I truly wanted to make things better for each and every one of them.

  At the end of my second week, I drove a member to a doctor’s appointment and came back to a surprise baby shower. We celebrated the upcoming arrival of my son with a lunch of spaghetti and homemade strawberry cake. There had been a collection taken up for a gift card to Babies R Us, which meant so much to me since I knew many of them didn't have money to spare. I had been looking forward to my baby shower with my family and Jason's family coming up in a week but I knew it wouldn't be as special as the one they gave. I ate so much that I joked with everyone that I was probably going to go home and pop. I could never have imagined that something I said as a joke was actually going to happen.

  During the middle of the night, I switched positions in bed and felt a pop. I didn't think anything of it until it began to feel like I was peeing myself. It hit me that my water had broken. Within the next 10 minutes, I had woken Jason up, thrown on some dry clothes, and we were headed to the hospital. The ride to the hospital was mostly silent but inside I was panicked at the fact that I really was going to deliver a baby. In my mind, I was convinced that the baby was going to come out looking exactly like Eric and Jason would know right away. I didn’t know how either of us would handle the embarrassment. I knew I had to stay calm as hard as it was. Things had finally started to look up for me, it had to continue.

  My son was born at 4:41 AM on January 12. No one expected my labor to progress so fast since it was my first baby but I progressed from 2 cm when I got to the hospital to 10 cm very quickly. There wasn't even time for me to get an epidural as planned and I was immediately panicked about having to push the baby out without one. I got what I guess was a rush of adrenaline when it was time to push and after just 4 pushes my son was born. Once he was out, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. As the nurse took him away to clean him up, I prayed that he would look like me and not his deceased father. Jason beamed with pride as he cut the umbilical cord and watched everything the nurses did to him. I could hear him crying as I delivered my placenta and felt an overwhelming sense of sadness with each cry. It should have been a happy moment, but all I wanted to do was cry.

  Jason stepped out to call my parents who were driving from Charlotte and to update his family who had gathered in the waiting room. As I nibbled on a sandwich, the nurse brought him over to me to hold. He weighed in at 6 lbs. 2 oz. and tiny. I managed a smile as she handed me my son. He was the most perfect baby I had ever seen and as I suspected, he was the spitting image of Eric. I couldn't stop the tears as I took of his hat and ran my fingers through his head of curly hair. I wanted his dad to be there to meet him. I was still in tears when Jason and his parents walked in. They assumed it was because the baby was healthy which worked to my advantage. I was nervous the whole time Jason held him thinking that he would immediately notice how much he looked like Eric. I was even more nervous when his mother held him. I held my breath as she looked over every detail of his face. The thing that made me nervous was how quiet she was. She was never quiet so I immediately began to think she knew something was off.

  "Well I do believe you are the most perfect grandson a grandma could have." Her final verdict of him made me breathe the biggest sigh of relief.

  My parents arrived to the hospital later in the day and doted over him along with Jason's parents while I tried my best to get some rest. My mind was racing in so many directions making it hard to relax. I couldn't believe that I was a mom and responsible for a perfect little being. I was also nervous about being out of work so soon since technically they didn't have to hold my position for me. Most of all I felt guilty. I watched Jason beam with pride over this child that he had been so excited for and I didn't know how I could ever tell him that it wasn't his son. I also didn't know how I couldn’t tell him.

  Two days later I was discharged from the hospital and we took our son, Brandon, home. My parents had to head back to Charlotte, but Jason's mom all but jumped at the opportunity to stay with us to help out with the baby. I knew I needed help since Jason was not yet scheduled to be off work, but I was not at all thrilled to spend my days with his mom. She had been very overbearing in the hospital watching how everyone handled Brandon and my lack of sleep and frustrations with breastfeeding made it difficult to hold my tongue. I wanted Mommy to stay with me. She didn't have a job to get back to, but said she had obligations with her church group that she could not get out of. As I hugged her goodbye, I wanted to tell her how much I needed her and how much I wanted her to stay and help me. Something stopped me from doing so and instead I gave her a tight squeeze as I fought back tears.

  Brandon cried the whole way home despite my attempts to talk, sing, or shush him. The more I tried, the louder he screamed. "Gosh, he hates me already."

  "He's a baby honey. He just wants to be in his mama's arms, not a car seat. The first few days are hard, but trust me this will all be second nature in no time." Jason's mom was trying her best to be comforting. I just hoped what she was saying was true.

  After being home with Brandon for just a few days, I found myself wondering constantly when it was going to get better. Brandon cried constantly and despite everything I tried, he would not sleep for longer than an hour. On top of dealing with Brandon, Jason's mom drove me absolutely crazy. She was constantly taking him from me the minute he started to cry and if she didn't take him, she would sit and watch me like a hawk. I felt like I was constantly under her microscope. Daily I fought the urge to tell her to go home and not come back. My breaking point came after being home exactly a week. I had been up every hour on the dot with Brandon, my breast were engorged from him falling asleep minutes after latching, and he would scream when I tried to wake him up to eat. I was in the living room so I wouldn't wake Jason up when his mom came storming out of the spare room and proceeded to take him from me.

  "My goodness, I’ve been in there listening to him scream all night. Let grandma make him feel better."

  The combination of her trying to yank my child from my arms and insinuating that she could make him feel better and I couldn't was enough to make me lose it. I turned so she couldn’t take Brandon and shouted at her, "I KNOW HOW TO TAKE CARE OF MY SON! Go back to bed and leave us alone."

  I made my way into the nursery slamming the door behind me. I expected the ruckus to wake Jason up and make Brandon cry harder, but neither happened. My guess was that they both knew I had enough. I was able to nurse Brandon from one breast and pump from the other to relieve some pain and for the first time ever, he fell into what seemed like a peaceful slumber. I fell asleep on the recliner in the nursery with Brandon on my chest. When he began to stir, it was after 7 am and I realized that he had actually slept 3 hours. On the side table I noticed a can of formula on top of a note with Jason's handwriting that read:

  The stores sell it for a reason. You are not a bad mom if you use it. Remember, happy mom = happy baby. Love you both.

  -J

  The note and gesture made me smile, especially since it meant he had gotten up and went to the store before going to work. I still felt like I owed it to my son to try and breastfeed him. I thought that since just a few hours ago, he latched perfectly that we were on to something, but that morning when I tried to feed him, it was back to the same screaming. Feeling defeated, I grabbed the can of formula and headed out the room.

  Jason's mom was in the kitchen cooking breakfast and since the bottles were in there, there was no way to avoid her. Brandon's whining made her turn around and acknowledge us and as we made eye contact I didn't know how to address her. So I was glad that she broke the ice.

  "Well good morning sleepy heads. I thought you two were going to sleep all day." Her lighthearted greeting was a relief.

  "He slept 3 hours. I feel like a new person."

  "I know you do. You both needed that. Jason left out early and got a couple of cans of formula, so I made a few bottles up for you. I hope you don't mind."

  "No, not at all, thanks
for doing that."

  "It's no problem at all. That’s what I'm here for. I can feed him for you while you eat."

  "Ok."

  I handed Brandon over to her while I heated one of the bottles she made. He took the bottle and immediately began to gobble the contents. It was a relief to see him eating happily but I also felt a sense of sadness that I could not meet those needs for him. As I fixed my plate I had to smile as I listened to her talk to Brandon as she fed him. I felt bad for yelling at her earlier even though I felt like I was justified in doing so. She seemed to be past it though and I just hoped that it was the start of things getting better all the way around.

  ∞∞∞

  Just as I had hoped, things did get better. I began to anticipate what Brandon was going to need before he got too worked up and day-by-day he became easier to manage. The day I was able to sit in the nursery feeding Brandon a bottle after sleeping four hours straight, I said to myself "I got this." It was a magical feeling. Before I had him, people would tell me how much he was going to change daily, but it was hard to believe until I experienced it. I kept hoping and wishing that somehow he would magically start to look like Jason or start to look like me. He continued to look just like Eric though. As he got older and began to keep his eyes open more and make faces, he looked more and more like him. There were times I would look at him and cry. Other times the guilt felt like it was going to consume me. I wanted to come clean, but when I saw Jason with him and his love for him, I would talk myself out it.