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Jan 22, 2024

i am my mother's child , i'll love you 'til my breathing stops .

Summertime was coveted for Sebastian’s family. While he was but little; made up of plump limbs and cherub cheeks, always burning red yet never running a fever, sprouts of bright, curly blond hair budding from his crown, a real life angel — he could still remember fragments of it all. The before, the during, the after. He was a restless baby. A bit colicky but not as much as some of his other siblings. So, he would be whining helplessly in his crib and he would see the shadow of his mother appear from the light bleeding in through the crack of his nursery door. He would squirm around excitedly, welcoming her company with a squeal that she had to quiet every time she lifted him from his bed. He could feel her warm laughter echo against the confines of her ribcage as she held him up against her chest and let him nurse. They would sit in the rocking chair together and she would hum a song. She had the prettiest voice he ever heard, never missing a note or falling flat. He’d fall asleep in her arms within minutes, and then he would wake up all over again in the morning to one of his siblings rustling him until his eyes came open.

Then, he would be changed and dressed for the long drive. His mother would preoccupy him with bright toys and more singing — sometimes his father would intervene, but his methods of distraction were much less successful. His heart was enmeshed with his mother’s. He never thought that would ever change. Once he was clad in a onesie and a pair of tiny shorts, he was lifted onto his mother’s hip and paraded around the house while everyone scrambled to assemble their backpacks and suitcases. These trips lasted throughout the summer, so everyone needed to be certain they’d packed their beloved stuffed animals and all the movies on DVD they’d need to watch on nights spent in, away from the rest of the world. Sebastian was a gleeful observer of the chaos, occasionally giggling whenever his siblings would wind up in spats with one another that his father was forced to mitigate.

The drive was Sebastian’s favorite part. They were split in groups of two: the triplets and Honey were sorted in his father’s shiny BMW while India, Harrison and himself took up residence in their mother’s tried and true Mercedes-Benz G Class; where she would keep all the windows half-open so they could experience the shift in atmosphere during the journey. He would be placed in his carrier and watch the cityscape of Long Island disappear in flurries of orange lampposts and glowing traffic lights. As they coasted along the interior of Connecticut and Rhode Island they would merge through thick swathes of forests into the outskirts of suburbia, until they finally arrived on the shores of Cape Cod after four tedious hours of intermittent arguing amongst his siblings with whom he shared the backseat.

Upon arrival, Sebastian was hardly cognizant of their destination as his mother carted him from the car up to their family cottage. He could hear the distinct chatter of excitement from the others, which he was too tired to emulate. On the first night, he would eat in the comfort of his mother’s arms and fall asleep soundly in a bassinet attached to the side of the master bed. He never found better rest in his entire life.

When awake and alert he would spend his time perched on his mother’s back and exploring the world around them; the beaches, where he was introduced to the prickling cold water and the soft, warm sand he could manipulate with his tiny hands to be whatever he desired — most of the time useless balls he utilized to toss at whichever brother or sister was close enough to target; the town, basking in the sunbeams as his mother would proudly display him to all the people that took interest in his miniature bucket hat and jelly shoes, or tasting new foods at the gourmet restaurants they always asked for outside seating at, and sometimes he even adapted more patience so his father could cradle him and point out all the dolphins that would leap and pierce the air in the distance. And then Max would offer to carry him all the way back to their cottage, hopping and skipping over every crack in the pavement, which, naturally, upset Sebastian’s stomach and led to him spitting up down the back of his older brother’s shirt.

Life was simple. It was peaceful. Harmonic. All the notes of his parents’ and siblings’ individual melodies aligning and producing a delightful consonance. He thought things would be this way forever, as any new soul would assume. The worst thing that had ever happened to him was an upset stomach.

Until he heard his mother cry for the first time.

His tiny nose scrunched up as a sudden light struck his closed eyes. Once stirring awake, he blinked a few times and stared ahead blankly at the wide crack in the bathroom door. He could see his mother collapsed against the cabinet, his father quick to fall beside her and scoop her into an embrace. He didn’t understand. What was there to cry about? Did her stomach hurt, too? Even if it had, she was so good at being happy in the face of any kind of suffering.

Though he was but little, he felt more than many do in their entire lives.

They returned home two weeks early. All of his siblings were disappointed; he couldn’t say whether or not he was. He had sensed his mother’s discomfort and a touch of apathy in everything she did — almost like she were running on instincts rather than being fully present — and it had unsettled him. While it seemed to have done much of the same on his siblings, they instead attached themselves to their father, who was more emotionally sound.

Sebastian clung tightly onto his mother for two long months. He cried out when someone else touched her and startled her, particularly his father, and the gap between them widened with every passing day. If he weren’t so little, if he weren’t so clueless, he’d have followed in tow with the rest and leaned on his father for better comfort, but he didn’t want to leave his mother behind. He didn’t want her leaving him behind, either. So by her side he remained. It seemed to soothe her for a time, his devoted presence, though occasionally she would hold him against her chest and her bones would begin to rattle and when he glanced up, she was reduced to tears again.

The seasons changed. Summer deliquesced into autumn, the leaves on the tree that was planted outside his nursery window withering from bright green to muted oranges and browns. Blue skies evaporated, sucked into a vortex of grey fog that hung low on the shores of Long Island. It began raining every other day. A steady pitter patter of rain made discordant music on his windowpane. Sometimes the ground beneath him would rumble and the sky above would shatter and he would cry, startled. And rather than hear his mother’s soft inflection break through the chaos and rescue him from the storm, he was lifted from his crib and into his father’s arms. He was shuttled around the house while his siblings were cared for, occasionally hushed as the earth kept falling apart around them. He didn’t like this, any of it. None of it felt right. Where was his mother? Not only her presence, but her spirit. Where had she gone? Did he do something wrong?

And then, like magic, one day his mother crept up behind him and scooped him off the floor and began blowing raspberries against his cheek. He erupted into laughter that felt foreign within the confines of his tiny chest and reached out giddily to grasp onto her curls. She then took a hold of his tiny hand and placed it against her stomach. He didn’t understand. How could he? All he knew was that it felt firmer than before, and… It was very round. Had she eaten too much? Sometimes his stomach did that.

“You’re going to be a big brother, Bash,” his mother informed him delightfully.

Oh.

He still wasn’t certain what that meant for him. He wouldn’t be for a long time. He was the same observer he’d always been as the months passed by quicker than ever; soon enough his nursery was being extended and a second crib was added beside his own — odd, that. This was his room. He didn’t share, not like the triplets. His grandparents’ visits came closer and closer together as they prepared for the new addition, Sebastian ever so confused why they would coo over his mother’s belly rather than him.

His father spent more time with him. He’d always made attempts, but Sebastian had thwarted them. He was his mother’s child and hers alone. But his father didn’t seem to think the same. Nowadays, though, Sebastian wasn’t given much of a choice. His mother was preoccupied with redecorating his room and making sure everything would be just right in time for the new arrival. So, most afternoons, he was sat in his father’s lap as they took turns pointing out wrongdoings of his siblings while they tumbled around the living room engaging in scraps and petty arguments.

Maybe they had more in common than Sebastian had thought. They both enjoyed acknowledging things and then watching the chaos unfold. His father only intervened whenever Maisie was involved and threatened to bite. Otherwise, it was every man for himself.

“Are you excited, Seb?” his father asked rhetorically as a lull swept over the house. It happened like that occasionally. Everyone would either be occupied outside in the snow or huddled up together to keep warmth as they watched a movie in the theatre room. “New baby. You’ll get to take care of this one. Like how Harry took care of you.”

Well, that couldn’t be true. Harrison hardly took care of Sebastian. If any of his siblings assumed a parental role it was Max, who was really just an overachiever and kiss-up rather than an actual paternal figure in his life. Harrison quite liked tormenting his little brother, as a matter-of-fact, though not quite like Maisie had. She very much so enjoyed trapping him in laundry baskets and inside closets and sitting on him whenever she was given the chance. Did that mean he had free reign to do the same to his new sibling? He didn’t know if he’d like that as much as his siblings had.

“I think you’ll be a good big brother,” his father hummed while in thought.

Sebastian didn’t know if that was true. He didn’t care regardless, melting into his father’s embrace and falling asleep slowly to the sound of his heart. It was almost as comforting as his mother’s. If only he didn’t breathe so quickly. He needed to learn how to breathe like his momma, or else this would never work out.

His mother kept growing and his father never seemed so proud. They had even organized a party. For what? It wasn’t anyone’s birthday yet. Sebastian remained at his mother’s feet as she unwrapped gift after gift and filled the room with her infectious laughter. Everything was blue and pink. He hadn’t deduced why — he was busy chewing on the tied-off end of a balloon before his father snatched it out of his mouth and offered him an appropriate teething toy. He glared up at him before reluctantly shoving the chewy set of keys into his mouth.

On a bitter winter morning in late January, Sebastian was transferred to his grandparents’ custody alongside the rest of his siblings as they were hurriedly shuttled out of their home. He wasn’t quite sure what was happening, all he could hear was the sound of crying, which he emulated as he was strapped into his seat in the back of his grandfather’s car. The drive between residences felt like an eternity. Sebastian couldn’t even sleep, feeling worry permeate deep in his gut. He didn’t get to say goodbye to his mother. Had something happened? Was it the baby? Was it hurting her?

He gave his grandfather more grief than he likely deserved. He refused sleep and the offers of food. He kept looking around aimlessly, like his mother would appear from around a corner and apologize for scaring him. Except that moment never came. He felt more alone than ever. He didn’t have either of his parents there to comfort him for the first time in his life, and the touch of his extended family had never felt more foreign than during that eternal night.

His father arrived the following evening. Sebastian reached out, on the brink of tears as he hadn’t missed him more in his entire life. As he was hoisted onto his father’s waist, they were quickly crowded by the rest of his siblings who all had a thousand inquiries that he tried answering one by one. Yes, Momma is okay. She’s very tired from having your baby sister. We can go and see them tomorrow. Does that sound good?

A baby sister.

A sister.

A baby.

After a good night’s rest beside his father, Sebastian woke up that next day and was dressed warmly so he could visit the big white room where his mother was trapped. He was the last of his siblings to be let in, as they were each given their time with her according to their order of birth. The triplets huddled around her and Maisie kept staring blankly at the lump that their mother held close to her chest, just like she would do to Sebastian. Honey and India were enamored, already conspiring how they would take turns dressing her up. Harrison was mostly disinterested. He just wanted to show their mother the new book he acquired simply by passing the gift store and pointing it out to their father, who hardly ever denied them anything they wanted.

Then, Sebastian was lifted onto her bedside and he saw her smiling face and all felt right in the world again. He mirrored her smile and reached out so he could latch — but he was cupped by the stomach and held back by his father.

“Not your turn yet, Seb,” his father chuckled. “Gotta let Snowdrop eat some, too.”

Snowdrop?

Sebastian’s lips formed a pout and Reina reached out, brushing back his blond curls and soothing him better than anyone had since she left. “Here, look,” she said softly as she held his baby sister up so he could observe her features. She was even smaller than him. He didn’t know people could be that small. She was pink in her round cheeks and on the tip of her nose. Tentatively, he reached out, poking her there and wondering if she was real at all. She looked like one of Honey’s dolls.

She sneezed and Sebastian jumped. Everyone else laughed. And, for the first time in a long time, he began laughing along.

Life was a song again. This time, it gained a new melody. It was richer because of it. Maybe because nothing much had truly changed for Sebastian, not like he had thought they would. He was still their baby boy, even if he wasn’t the youngest anymore. He was loved and adored by his mother just as much as before, though he did have to split his time in half to share with Snowdrop as they were tandem nursing. That was alright. He didn’t need all that food. He would’ve liked it, but he didn’t need it.

He didn’t notice the tiredness in his mother’s gaze as the weeks wore on and his baby sister grew bigger and bigger. All he did was curl up beside her and make certain that Snowdrop wasn’t exhausting her too much. Whenever it seemed like his mother was going to doze off or if she appeared the slightest bit vexed, he would call out loudly: Daddy! and that would fix everything for a little while. Maybe his father was of more use than he assumed, after all.

As the two youngest, Sebastian and Snowdrop were often paired together. Especially now that their family was made up of an even number: a staggering ten total. They were introduced as a package deal, like he and Harry used to be. Now Harry spent all his time with Honey, India and Mim were forced into proximity so their personalities wouldn’t clash as much (this was unsuccessful), and Maisie and Max were always together — the twins, everyone called them. Mim didn’t seem to care. She liked being independent. This was made evident every time India would link their arms while they were walking and she would be swiftly discarded into the nearest ditch by the triplet.

Sebastian began taking this pairing very seriously as he gained more awareness of the world. He would climb out of bed at night and sit idle at her crib just to watch her sleep. He could tell when she had nightmares; her brow would twitch and her mouth would crease and she’d whine softly, but all it took was a couple of pats to her back to make her feel secure before she was asleep peacefully once more. He knew, even before their mother sometimes, when she was peckish. He fed her her first bite of solid food. It was his duty. He was her older brother. Her sworn protector.

He helped her form words whenever she tried speaking like the rest of her siblings did ever so constantly. Seh-bash-tee-ann. That’s my name. Suh-no-duh-rop. That’s your name. Can you say that? I can say it. Sebastian. Snowdrop. And although she couldn’t quite understand him, she still smiled and it made him smile, too.

When she pushed herself off the ground in an attempt to waddle toward their father, Sebastian was there to catch her as she inevitably tumbled to the ground. He was there every time, until eventually she didn’t need him to stand behind her anymore, and that was when he felt the first pang of abandonment. Would she not need him forever? Like how Maisie needed Max, the only other person aside from their parents who could coax her down from hysteria? Or how Harrison needed Honey, an ever-calm presence that knew just how to keep him from spiraling? Even India still required Mim for things, like tying her shoelaces and when she needed a passenger in her Barbie Jeep to terrorize the neighbors with.

Alas, she did not. On her first day of Pre-K and Sebastian's first day of kindergarten, she skipped ahead of all of them without looking back, and it might’ve struck him harder than it did their parents who sent her off. He was there that morning, watching intently as his mother braided her hair, memorizing each step in case she might’ve needed him to do the same for her. He helped her slip her light-up Skechers on. The Skechers he pointed out in the store when they went school shopping: bright turquoise with pink stripes, appropriately bedazzled at the toe so everyone would know how cool and trendy his baby sister was.

The realization that Snowdrop wasn’t as reliant on him as he was on her had been devastating. This must be how Momma feels all the time, he thought, and then came to the conclusion that if he wanted both their pain to subside, they would need one another more than anyone else in each other did. So he hung off her like a monkey, never giving her a moment’s rest. Every time his father would try and intervene, Sebastian would cry out and his mother would be there to blot away his tears.

The years came and went like this. When Sebastian was enrolled in his first season of sports, he grew a bit more distant, finding a sliver of independence where he never had before — but as soon as a ball would make a brutal collision with his nose or he slid too hard or too fast on the grass and acquired stains that burned through the skin, he would revert back to that same child that couldn’t breathe without his mother. Except now, whenever he would hold a cold compress to his bleeding nose, Snowdrop would come up beside him and lean her cheek on his shoulder and hold his hand until the throbbing subsided and he could stand without getting lightheaded.

He taught her well, he liked to think.

Two days shy of his twelfth birthday, he was sat in bed with his soccer ball lamp illuminating the room. He still waited every night for his mother to tuck him in. He came last, since Snowdrop now required two bedtime stories in order to sleep soundly. He didn’t mind waiting anymore. He was almost a man, he knew he couldn’t act so pedantic forever, though sometimes he did test the limit. His hazel eyes drifted up whenever he noticed his bedroom door creak open. His mother paused for a moment, clearly surprised he had remained awake for so long, then offered an apologetic smile as she went to sit beside him.

“Sorry, Bash, I meant to be here sooner,” she said, reaching out and carding her fingers through his thick blond curls. They were beginning to darken, thanks to all the time he spent outdoors during soccer practice and games.

“That’s okay,” he said in return. “I don’t mind waiting.”

His mother pursed her lips, presumably in thought, as she shifted herself so they were facing one another fully. “You know… You don’t have to wait forever, Bash,” she told him gently. It took him a moment to process what she was implying, and when he did, he could feel a ball the size of the ones he kicked around all day begin to form in his throat.

“... I-I know.” he managed to say. “I-I mean — yeah, I know. O-Of course I know.”

She chuckled at this, tilting her head sideways. “You’re more like your father than you’d care to admit.”

“Why — why wouldn’t I admit it?” Sebastian asked despite knowing exactly why. His relationship with his father would always be complicated for reasons beyond his comprehension. Try as they might, there seemed to be a dissonance between them that couldn’t be corrected.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” she began as she reached for his hand. “That will never change. You’re my baby boy. But you’re growing up. You’re almost as tall as me now,” she let out a quiet laugh underneath her breath. “I can’t believe it. I think you can’t, either. But… I also think you’re ready to let go.”

Sebastian’s brows knitted together in confusion. “Let go?” he echoed.

His mother nodded along, a solemnity in her features as she squeezed his hand in her own. “Of me. Or, well. Be your own person. You’ve been my little love all this time, my Seb, my baby. I haven’t given you much room to be yourself. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Y-You… You don’t have to say sorry,” he immediately denied. “I’m myself. Aren’t — aren’t I?”

“You are. You can be much more if I let you breathe,” she said and leaned in to kiss his cheek. He leaned into the touch instinctively. “I never did before. It wasn’t fair to either of us.”

For some reason, Sebastian could feel tears prickle on his waterline, which his mother was quick to wipe away. They both hated seeing each other upset. “That doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you,” she assured quietly. “I would never do that. But don’t you want to do things without always wondering where I am while you do them?”

“... I-I don’t know,” Sebastian admitted as he stared down at their connected hands.

“I think you do,” she said. “And it’s okay, Bash. I promise. I’m going to be here no matter what. You don’t have to look for me everywhere. You can look for yourself now.”

Sebastian swallowed dryly as he felt his core shift in that moment. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to step forward, out into the light, and let go of her hand. He didn’t know how the rest of his siblings did it, but they survived, didn’t they? He could, too, if he really wanted. He had to. His gaze lifted and he matched his mother’s with a faint smile pulling on the corner of his lips.

“Okay, Momma,” he finally said. “I will.”

His mother smiled at him and blotted away a few stray tears of her own, then moved into bed beside him so she could scoop him up against her chest. He could hear the steady rhythm of her heart. His eyelids fluttered closed and he released a sigh. This wouldn’t be the last time his mother ever held him, but it was the last time he would feel like he’d die if she didn’t. And he still didn’t know how he felt about it. One day, though. He’d have it figured out one day.

Outside the window, a flower bloomed on the branch of a tree.

It was the first day of summer.

She started to sing softly. It was a song he’d known since the day he was born.

#sebastian — character study.#self-para #4.2k words

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