Breathe With Me By Becka Mack - 33

I ’VE LEARNED MORE ABOUT MYSELF in the last year than I have in all of the twenty-seven years before that.

I’ve learned that even the strongest people are capable of breaking. That bad things happen, that things don’t always make sense, and trying to understand the why behind them will tear you apart. That searching for an answer when there isn’t one, when some things just are , will create space for doubt to seed and grow and eventually spread like wildfire. I’ve learned that it’s eons easier to let the doubt win. That putting yourself first, loving yourself despite the doubts, can feel impossible to even the most confident of people.

I’ve learned that loving myself looks different at every stage. It means giving myself grace, seeing my worth at my best, and finding it at my worst too. It means reminding myself that I’m enough. That I was enough yesterday, am enough today, and will be enough tomorrow, no matter what happens. I’ve learned that loving myself doesn’t require perfection, but it does require me to show up for myself every damn day, and celebrate all my efforts, no matter the outcome. Loving myself means understanding that I can’t do it alone. It means asking for help, letting people in, letting them love me extra on the days the love escapes me.

I’ve learned what it means to be a mother. That it’s the single hardest thing I’ll ever do. That being a mother means loving someone so much you’d give up everything for them. I’ve learned that being a mother is full of quiet sacrifices, not just because of the sleepless nights and the plans you cancel, but because of the life you rearrange. The person you say goodbye to, the pieces of yourself you let go of as your heart and soul are gently reshaped, molded into a version of you that somebody else needs, and maybe one you needed too. I’ve learned that being a mother means healing the parts inside you that still bleed, the hurt you’ve held so tightly, and bravely watching as that hurt peeks out for the first time in so long, desperate for someone to shine some light on it.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to take up space exactly as I am. I am no less worthy on the days I struggle, on the days I can’t stand on my own, when the voices in my head try to convince me that anything less than the best version of me isn’t good enough. I am allowed to exist, happy and full of life. I am allowed to exist, lost and afraid. I don’t need to apologize for being here, for having a hard week, or an impossible year. There is room for every good day, and every bad one too. Room for the laughter, the smiles, the tears, and the anger. There is room for all of it, and there is nothing, not one single thing in this world, that makes me any less worthy of being here.

But maybe most important of all? I’ve learned that the most important person in the world to convince of my worth… it’s me. All the love in the world will never make up for the love I need most: my own .

I gaze at the rearview mirror, watching Abel’s reflection as we drive along the coast, trying to beat the sunset. He’s carefree, smiling as he watches the world pass by outside, while I try to feel like mine isn’t ending.

Emmett reaches over the console, laying his palm up. I slide my hand into his, closing my eyes as he sweeps a feather-soft kiss across my knuckles. It’s no secret that I found my way out through to the other side with both Emmett and Abel’s hands tucked into mine, but watching Emmett and Abel heal their childhood hurt at the same time has been a beautiful experience I’ve been endlessly lucky to experience firsthand. My husband is what “breaking the cycle” means. He is every single deep breath, every step forward when your body demands you freeze instead. He’s the patience he was never granted, the cheerleader he never had, the love that shouldn’t have ever come with conditions. And Abel… he’s a kid. That’s all he has to be, all he should be. There is no greater joy than being able to provide him that opportunity.

“Is Ireland coming?” Abel asks when Emmett parks the truck off a dirt road hidden among the trees, tucked just high enough that we can gaze out at the water below, the ships in the harbor, the city off in the distance. “Connor? Lily? Is Uncle Carter coming, and Auntie Ollie?”

“I don’t think so, honey,” I tell him gently, holding his door while he unbuckles the straps of his car seat. It was Emmett’s and my anniversary yesterday, which also means today is Canada Day. There’s no other way I’d prefer to spend tonight, except perhaps without the crushing weight of what tomorrow might hold sitting on my chest. Because tomorrow morning, right after breakfast, we head in for our meeting with Abel’s social worker, and we learn what Catharine’s next steps are.

I don’t know how to describe it, the war that wages inside me. All of me is so proud of Catharine, of every accomplishment and the incredible woman she is, of the life she’s chasing. I want her to win. I see how hard she’s been working to change her destiny.

And yet the thought of the window seat in that bedroom being empty, of wishes on stars left unsaid, of paints left in their pots instead of on my table, and rain boots without mud on them… it’s unbearable.

I close my eyes to the gut-wrenching pain, glancing away from Abel as I help him jump down from the truck.

He looks up at me with a frown so wounded, so dejected, my heart aches. “Because it’s Canada Day? That’s why they can’t come?”

Last night, we told Abel we’d spend the day doing whatever he wanted. We said it was to celebrate his birthday month arriving, not that we were terrified it was our last night together. And what did he choose for his day?

Making pancakes for breakfast with Daddy and eating in the backyard with Mommy. Painting on FaceTime with Mémère, and playing hockey with Daddy in the driveway while Mommy cheers for him. Making homemade pizzas for dinner, and watching the fireworks with his family.

“I’m sorry, Abel. It’s tough to get everyone together on a holiday.” I crouch in front of him, smoothing his hair off his forehead. “They really wanted to be here, though. I promise.”

He hangs his head. “Okay.”

Abel wanders around the trail while Emmett takes out the blankets and pillows we packed earlier, spreading them out and setting up a comfy spot for us to watch the sunset and the fireworks.

“Mommy.” Abel tugs on my shorts, looking up at me with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. I is just sad that my whole big family isn’t here, but I is still happy that my little family is here.”

“You don’t ever have to apologize for feeling sad, Abel. You feel however you need to feel, and we’ll help you through it. Okay?”

He nods, wrapping his arms around me, pressing his cheek into my hip. When Emmett and I take a seat on the blankets, he climbs in the middle, snuggling up between us. “This is my favorite,” he says with a happy sigh.

“Fireworks?” Emmett asks.

“You,” Abel answers.

Before we can dwell on the single word, an engine rumbles in the near distance. Headlights illuminate the quickly dimming light, and Abel leaps to his feet as one car pulls into the space, followed by another, then another.

“They’re here!” Abel shouts as Carter and Olivia jump out of the first truck, unloading the kids from the back. Adam and Rosie and the kids come next, and Jaxon, Lennon, Garrett, and Jennie climb out of the last truck. “ They’re here! ”

Adam dumps a pile of blankets out next to us, Garrett and Jaxon following with heaps of pillows. Carter drops a large cooler to the ground, popping it open and rooting through its contents. He tosses a container of jelly-filled donuts at Emmett, a package each of M&M’s and Skittles to me, and a dinosaur-shaped popsicle to Abel.

“ ’Course we’re here,” he says, ruffling Abel’s hair. “Family fireworks under the stars. Where else would we be?”

I don’t try to stop my tears. Not a single, half-assed attempt. I let them slide proudly down my cheeks, owning every single one of them as they drip off my chin.

Emmett wipes his away with the neck of his T-shirt, sniffling as our family climbs in around us, one tangled pile of warm, giggling bodies. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Olivia smiles. “In this family, we show up for each other, plain and simple. No thanks needed.”

And maybe that’s the truth, but as the sun paints the sky in hues of pink and purple, streaks of orange and red, as the colors fade and the stars begin to twinkle, and as the black sky is lit up with fireworks, I can’t help but sit here and bask in the gratitude I feel for a life so good, a life I’m so lucky to be living with people like this, a family who just shows up, plain and simple.

Thank you.

I DIDN’T SLEEP LAST NIGHT. Not a single wink, and neither did Emmett. Every minute of it spent staring at the boy snuggled between us, the one so at peace, marveling at the progress he’s made in only a handful of months, the amount of space he takes up in my heart and in my soul. Some days, it feels like it’s all him.

“Hey, you. Can we talk to you for a minute, before we go in there?”

Abel pauses on the steps outside the social worker’s office. He skips back to Emmett and me, grinning. I open my mouth to say something, though I don’t know what. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say that would suffice. But before I can try, Abel wraps his arms around us, squeezing us tight.

Emmett blinks. “What was that for?”

“Just because I love you, and you’re my bestest friends in the whole wide stinkin’ world. I’m so lucky to be your Abel.”

And I think… I think that’s how I know. That if today is our ending, if today we say goodbye, I would do it all over again.

I would go through it all over again, accept the same fate, a permanent ache, the hollow space in my heart that will never be filled, reserved just for him. I would force that word out of my mouth, whisper a goodbye that I’ll choke on once he’s gone, a goodbye that will, without a single doubt in my mind, permanently scar me. I would do it all over again to know what it feels like to be loved so wholly, so purely, despite every shortcoming, by this little boy. I would do it all over again, because watching him heal, watching him walk out of the shadows and lift his face to the sun, being so damn proud of every inch of himself… nothing in my life could have ever prepared me for witnessing such an earthshaking, groundbreaking, spectacular sight. And I am honored to have been any small part of his journey.

I am a better person because of him. Because he loved me when I didn’t know how to love myself. And when somebody loves you like that, sees all your faults, all your shortcomings, and still thinks the sun shines out of your ass… that’s when you finally learn, after all these years, you don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love. With Abel, my faults don’t feel so damning. Instead, they feel like space to grow. And I have grown so, so much with his tiny hand tucked into mine.

Emmett takes my face in his hands as Abel skips through the front door, screaming Catharine’s name. “I’ve got you,” he promises on a gentle whisper. “I’ve always got you, Cara, and you’ve always got me. Whatever way this ends, we’ll get through it. Together, firefly.”

I nod, tears dripping down my cheeks. “Together.”

He presses his lips to mine, sealing his promise with a kiss before we make our way inside, where Catharine is crouched in front of Abel, looking through all the paintings he brought her, listening to him go on about each and every brushstroke while Emily and Marlene, Abel’s social worker, wait with a smile.

Emily wraps me in a hug and squeezes Emmett’s shoulder. “Hey, superstars. How you two holding up?”

Judging by Emily’s grimace, I’d say my answering smile is every bit as convincing as it feels, which is to say, not at fucking all.

Marlene opens her case file. “Are we ready to get started? Cara and Emmett, Emily is here today to spend some time with Abel while we speak with Catharine about next steps.”

“Hey, buddy?” Catharine rubs Abel’s arm. “Does that sound good? Do you wanna play with Emily for a little bit?”

“I heard you love dinosaurs, so I brought some of my favorite dino toys.” Emily holds her hand out to Abel. “Wanna go see?”

Abel’s eyes light up, and he runs to Emily. He pauses, frowning, and then runs back to Catharine. “I forget what you asked me before this.”

Catharine giggles. She pushes his hair off his forehead. “I asked if you’re happy.”

“Oh.” He looks back at Emmett and me over his shoulder, grinning. “Yes. I is happy.” He studies Catharine, cocking his head. “Is you happy?”

She smiles, a lone tear dripping down her cheek. “I’m happy, and I’m sad.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You can be both. It’s okay.”

Catharine nods. “Go have fun with Emily.” Her eyes don’t leave Abel as he dashes away, disappearing behind a door with Emily. I recognize the look in her eyes, the heartache. It’s the same way I looked at Abel all night, like I was afraid to look away, like he might disappear if I took my eyes off him for even a second. She wrings her hands at her chest, looking down at her feet. “Can I just—”

“How about we—” Marlene stops herself, gesturing at Catharine. “My apologies, Catharine. I was going to suggest we take a seat and discuss Abel’s options, but if you’d like to start us off, you’re more than welcome to.”

She nods, rolling her lips between her teeth as one tear barrels down her cheek, then another.

“Hey,” I murmur, stepping up to her. “What’s going on? Did your friends say something shitty again? Do I need to pay someone a visit and make some heads roll, because I will. Just say the word.”

It does what I hoped it would, and Catharine chokes out a laugh, scrubbing her bloodshot eyes. “I got into college.”

I squeal, yanking her into my arms. “Congratulations, Catharine. I’m so excited for you. Emmett told me, but I didn’t want to say anything until you told me yourself.” I pull back, catching her gaze. “I’m so proud of you, and I hope you’re proud of yourself. You did that. You. ”

“I wasn’t going to go,” she admits, looking down at her feet. “Like, how do I manage college and Abel, you know? How do I balance school and studying and working to pay for school with being a mom, the kind of mom he deserves? I know people do it, but… I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be a mom. And I love him. I love him so fucking much… and I still want to choose myself.”

“Hey, that’s okay. Look at me.” I wipe her tears from her cheeks, the pain in her voice wrapping around my heart like a fist, squeezing. “That’s okay, Catharine. You get to choose yourself. You’re the only person who can, time after time. That doesn’t mean you don’t love Abel.”

She nods as the tears reach a point of no return, cascading down her face. “I got a loan, enough to cover my courses and textbooks. I used my savings to put a deposit down on an off-campus student house. My supervisor arranged an interview for me at the library over there. We drove up last weekend, and I… I got the job.” Her gaze moves between me and Emmett as he places his hand on my lower back. With her hand pressed to her forehead, she looks at the ceiling and huffs an exhausted laugh. “This is so hard. So fucking hard, and so easy at the same time. Hard, because it’s my job to love him.” Her eyes move back to us, and she seems to find some sense of calm, her chest rising and falling softly despite the silent tears. “Easy, because if I had to describe love to someone who had no idea what it meant, I’d describe the way you two love Abel. The way you fight for him every step of the way in such small ways that have the biggest impact. The way he trusts you to keep him safe, and the way he feels safe enough to let his walls down around you.”

I try to cling to those tears, I really do. But the second Emmett lifts his hand, sniffing as he brushes beneath his eyes, I lose my battle. And Catharine? She smiles. Small, but soft. Warm. Content.

“Abel has the childhood I always wanted him to have,” she continues, “and the childhood I wish I’d had. He has that because of the way you love him. And he deserves that. He deserves parents who love him because they want to, not because they have to.”

My heartbeat trips and stalls, and I know the moment it restarts only because it comes back in full force, pounding a relentless beat that threatens to crack my chest wide open. “What are you…” I look to Emmett, tears free-falling down his face now, no chance in hell of stopping them as his hand finds mine, gripping so tightly, like he’s hanging on for dear life. “What are you saying, Catharine?”

Catharine takes my hand, wraps it in her quivering fist, and when she pulls in a deep breath, I watch that quiver disappear. Mossy eyes move between ours, and there isn’t an ounce of uncertainty in her voice when she answers. “I’ve decided to sign over the adoption rights. I think, for all intents and purposes, you’re already Abel’s parents. So if it’s okay with you… I’d like to sign those rights directly over to you.”

I choke out a sob, my entire body trembling as Emmett curls into my side, drops his face to my shoulder, and cries. But it’s what Catharine says next that has my legs giving out, me dropping to my knees, scooped against Emmett’s chest as we weep for the greatest gift we’ve ever been given.

“I’d like you to be Abel’s parents. Officially, and permanently.”

T HE TEARS WILL STOP ONE DAY, I’m sure, but not today.

I’ve at least begun to manage words; an hour later and I can’t say the same for Emmett. He lifts his face and opens his mouth every few minutes like he’s going to say something, then shakes his head and starts crying all over again, my sweet, sensitive man.

In that hour, though, Catharine assured us that this was not a decision she’d made lightly. That she’d spent hours on end discussing it with her social worker, her therapist, and even her supervisor. That she felt not only certain, but at peace with her decision. We talked about how this will work, what the adoption process will look like, how we’ll discuss it with Abel. There’s still so much to figure out, but one thing we do know is our family isn’t growing only by one, but by two. That Catharine will always have a place in our family.

And now, as Catharine says some semblance of a goodbye to Abel, one that will never be permanent, I find myself in utter awe of her, a young woman determined to chase her dream, the life she wants. Choosing herself, in a world where choosing yourself is the hardest thing to do.

“You inspire me, Abes. You know that?”

“I ’spire you?” He shrugs, twirling the bracelet around Catharine’s wrist as she crouches before him. “How come?”

“You inspire me not to give up. To fight for more, for better. For a place I feel safe to be me.”

His brow furrows with concern, and he puffs out his chest. “I can keep my Catharine safe. I’m big and brave, like a dinosaur.”

Catharine chuckles, pushing his hair off his forehead. “You are big and brave. But can I tell you a secret? I want to be powerful too. I want to be in charge of my safe place.”

“Oh.” He looks down for a moment, as if searching for his words. “Where Peter and Elizabef can’t yell anymore? And it’s okay if… it’s okay if you spill your milk?”

She grins. “Where I can make as many messes as I want.”

Abel smiles back, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her neck. “If you make a mess, I will help you to clean it up, ’kay? ’Cause we is family, and family helps.”

Catharine closes her eyes as she sinks into their hug, and I lay my head on Emmett’s shoulder as he winds his arm around my waist and tugs me into his side. When she pulls back, tears streaming silently down her face, Abel presses his forehead to hers and tells her softly, “I’m so lucky you’re my Catharine.”

“And I’m so lucky you’re my Abel.”

Abel tucks his hand into mine as Catharine starts down the front steps. “My Catharine is goin’ to school. She’s gonna write poems.”

“She’s gonna do amazing,” I say, but as I watch her make her way down the path, something she said earlier pokes at my thoughts, and I find my feet moving before I can comprehend what I’m doing. “Catharine! Wait!”

I catch her hand, releasing it only to put my hands on my hips as I catch my breath. “Fuck. I am not made for running.”

She laughs, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Everything okay?”

“You said something back there earlier. You said he deserves somebody who loves him because they want to, not because they have to. You said it like you think you’re the latter. But sometimes… sometimes goodbyes are the purest form of love. You think you can’t give him the life he deserves because you’re not capable of delivering it, but the real reason is because no one needs your love right now more than you do. He deserves a selfless kind of love, and, Catharine? So do you. So go out there and love the fuck out of yourself. Be selfish, give yourself everything you’ve been deprived of. But don’t you dare try to tell yourself that you love that little boy for any other reason than because you want to.” I take her hands in mine as tears slide down our cheeks in time. “I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this, and I mean absolutely no disrespect, the people who brought you into this world are total pieces of donkey shit.”

She barks out a laugh, half sob. “Liar. I heard the disrespect.”

“Sorry, I’m a horrible liar. Disrespect, so much of it. All the disrespect in the world.” I wrap my arms around her, this woman who’s brought this most beautiful gift into this world of ours. “I hope you can look back on these years and know with certainty that you always did your best. The times when we’re barely keeping our heads above water? We’re still breathing. We’re doing our best. So go chase your dreams, put yourself first, and build the life you want. You will always be part of our family, and there will always be space for you at our table. Always, Catharine.”

I watch her head down the street, and when she disappears around the corner, I look behind me. Emmett and Abel are watching me hand in hand from the steps, and I feel like I’m looking at my world. My today, and every tomorrow.

I join them on the steps, and Abel tucks his free hand into mine. Emmett just smiles at me through bleary, bloodshot, and awestruck eyes.

“Are we going home now, Mommy?”

“We’re going home, Abel.”