I closed the door and allowed the tears to fall. I hugged my son and went quickly to my bedroom so my emotions could be unbridled without fear of affect.
"I'm a better mother to the boys than you ever have been."
Words of their now step-mother sitting heavily, encompassing all the free space in my brain.
I know it's not true. I know it was said in anger and frustration and from someone who feels threatened by me. I know this. But there is always that small part, the dark part, the contrary part that confirms the false.
I recently made a difficult decision concerning my youngest. After multiple events of obvious stress, I removed my son from his school. He will not be going back.
I have brought him to that school and watched him walk in, fear prickling my soul. I have felt uneasy with his attendance there from the beginning.
I should have fought harder.
Graham has had enough to contend with in his short life. He died but was given back to us. He has undergone multiple therapies. Multiple doctors. Multiple tests and analysis. He has been poked and prodded and put on display. His brain has suffered the consequences of his stressful existence. And school has added to his stress. A place that should provide comfort and encouragement instead became just another obstacle in his recovery.
I have laid awake at night, mulling over this decision. I have cried many tears and allowed myself to be vulnerable in situations I typically master. I have let my boyfriend hold me as my body trembled with grief. I wake up with anxiety and go to bed with anxiety. My dreams are full of conflict and disturbances.
This level of despair calls for more than my earthly mind can handle.
So I prayed.
And in the midst of my wrestling with the Almighty, He whispered to me.
"It is time to fight for your son."
I have doubted myself as a mother since that fateful day when Graham fell into a bucket. I was responsible. I was blamed. I was whispered about among mothers. I was shamed. And I have struggled with that doubt since. As a result, I have allowed people who don't know my son as well as I do, to make decisions for him. I have allowed others to have input into my decisions. I have been swayed incorrectly at times. I have ignored my gut.
God created us with an innate need for someone else. We form an attachment as infants immediately out of the womb that cannot be reversed. I am that someone for my boys.
The legal definition of primary caregiver is: the parent who has the greatest responsibility for the daily care and rearing of a child. It also refers to a person who has had the greatest responsibility for the daily care and rearing of a child. This person can be a non parent also.
Even if there are women out there who discredit my ability as their mother, the fact that I am their safe haven cannot be changed.
So the gloves are on and I am ready to fight for my child.
I am their mother. Try taking that away from me. I dare you.