Sunday was the beginning of my growth. I admitted that I am not a very good parent (new) to a nine year old (the one I inherited). I am not a very good parent because I discovered that I do not like Zach very much at times. In fact, increasingly, he has been hurtful, mean and manipulative. I talked to the two other women who he has spent some significant time with to hear the same from them.
I also realized that I had some strong resentment towards my Aunt. She did not prepare me for the handful he would be. She did not tell me about his outbursts or his mean streak. I think she did not tell me because she was afraid I would not remain his guardian. I am not sure that she was wrong. I am very tired.
So I told Zach on Sunday that I was done being treated like I meant nothing. It is almost like he is devoid of emotion. I told him that we did not seem to be a good fit and that we would start to look for someone he felt more at home with for the long haul. He fake cried, giggled, fake cried, played legos, and so on. He went to day camp one day. He spent the others with me, being mean, until today. Today I did not acquiesce at all; I did not respond to him in a caring fashion. I treated him like my ward. He did not like it. Tonight, he asked me about my mother and the day I turned off her machine.
When the ventilator was turned off for Aunt Priscie, he was not allowed in the room. I asked that he be kept out so that he could remember Aunt Priscie as the smiling, talking, healing woman he saw days prior. I remembered what it was like to see my mom just a shell of what she used to be. I did not want him to have that memory at all. He knew she loved him. That's what mattered. In the aftermath, Zach began to listen to what grownups said when they forgot he was around. The bottom line is that too many people revealed that they were not behind Zach's adoption. What he heard was that Aunt Priscie died because he drove her crazy.
He has been carrying this idea and the attached guilt since October. I told him that her death, her illness, her request to be taken off the machine had nothing to do with him. She was tired and sick. He said he was mad that she wanted to die and leave him. He thought she wanted to leave him. How sad for a little boy to believe that. The thing is, he knew then and knows now that he behaves badly, that he chooses to seek negative attention, but he is unsure why. That is another part of his guilt.
We talked a long time about my mom, and how I missed her after almost 19 years. He said he could not remember Aunt Priscie's voice. I told him it would come to him in his dreams, that she would always be there, watching over him. I told him that because that's what my mom told me. I told him that because I do hear my mom's voice often in my dreams. I also hear her in my own laugh or catch a glimpse of her in the mirror in my own reflection. I told all of this to Zach, and he said he did have Aunt Priscie's eyes. I agreed. We both smiled. So we are trying one more time. He is talking to me now about stuff. Maybe that's all he needed. Maybe that's all I needed. It is a great responsibility to decide to love a child.
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