While our new guy - LB (littlest brother) - will become a Heisey within the next few months, at eleven years old he will also retain the identity of and some connections with his birth family. He called his great-uncle this morning, which he does a few times a month, and chatted about school and the deer he has seen in our backyard lately. Then I heard LB ask about his "mommy."
Tomorrow is the four month anniversary of having LB as a member of our family. For the first ten days he was a "visitor" just passing through. He needed to know how to refer to Stan and me, so he adopted MD's handles of "Mr. S and Ms. D." Suited us fine.
When we made the decision that LB would not be just a visitor, but rather our son, we explained to him that we were now "mom and dad"; that we understood and respected that he has birth parents and a birth family. We gave him the option of calling us "mom and dad" whenever he chose. Through the summer we remained "Mr. S and Ms. D."
As I talk with the kids I refer to Stan as "daddy", and so around the beginning of the school year LB also used "daddy" when talking about Stan, but not when talking to him. Within a couple of weeks that changed and Stan solidly became "daddy" to LB.
I continued to be "Ms. D" and tried my best to console myself: the trauma that LB had suffered had been largely caused by his father so it made sense that he might attach to Stan more quickly; LB's relationship with his birth mother was somewhat confusing as he has some sort of bond with her but also suffered neglect and so learned to not depend on her; he has more occasions to refer to (and therefore reinforce) me as "Ms. D" since I am home and administering discipline more often than Stan.
But I wanted to be "mommy." My heart ached to be "mommy" to him.
And it happened last week. Most unexpectedly. While in the midst of a less-than-happy discipline situation. I became "mommy", not only once by accident but several times over in a single conversation. Honestly, it became difficult for me to focus on the homework issue at hand while my heart did backflips and cartwheels.
For the past week my name has been used and over-used by LB; he is pouring the foundation, he knows that I am dependable and will not allow him to be harmed, that we are his last stop, his forever family. I am and will always be his "mommy."
So this morning when I heard LB ask his great-uncle about his mommy, my head understood that he will always wonder about his birth mother, but selfishly my heart sank a little.
A few minutes later LB hung up the phone, shoved on his jacket, grabbed his bookbag, and headed out the door with a cheerful, "Good-bye, Mommy!"
Backflips and cartwheels again.
