Mama Bear is Back

The four things that keep me from imminent corporate whoredom are Christopher, James, Michael, and Diana. All those late night bottles, diaper changes, bedtime stories, whispering lullabyes and belly kisses are sometimes the only things that keep me going.

I've fallen so deeply in love with them and the times we spend together that I sometimes forget they're not mine. It's not that I pretend that I gave birth to them, but we've grown so close that I feel a certain bond is there. In all their 6 months of knowledge, they recognize my face, my voice, the melodies of the songs I sing to make them smile. I don't know what it's like to be a real mommy but I know that when an infant opens his eyes and sees your face, then smiles, it feels wonderful.

But that bond works both ways. The same way I feel ecstatic when one of them smiles, I've found myself feeling as intensely torn apart now that their mother has come home. She and I get along just fine, and when she first came home she needed a lot of help, which I was happy to give her. I helped her in and out of bed, sometimes having to pick her up to do so, I crushed her pills and mixed them with applesauce so she could digest them. I cleaned the drainage tubes in her chest, whatever she needed. To be honest, it scared me because I have no medical training to do that sort of thing, and here is this fragile, sick woman that I have to care for, but I did it because I wanted to help, and make her happy.

Well, I think I did make her happy but I also was a sort of threat. Since she's come home they've been "giving me the night off" a lot, something Julio never did when she was in the hospital. Sometimes it really tears me up. It's times like that when I really have to remind myself that the kids aren't mine after all, no matter how many times I sing "Tender Shepard" or they cling to my shirt, or vomit on it. I can only imagine what it must feel like for Rosy, coming home incapacitated to three babies who are strangers to her, and vice versa. I try to remind myself of that whenever I feel like she's purposely keeping me from them.

But I couldn't hold it in anymore the other night after Julio asked me not to come over. I burst into tears in my driveway and tried to hide in my room, but my dad caught me before I could speed through the living room. And he did something he hasn't done in 20 years - he pulled me into his lap and rocked me like a little girl. Funny - how I want so badly to feel like I have a connection with a child again... I guess my dad wants the same thing. So he let me cry for a little while and then he said, "Honey, you've done so much for those kids and I'm sure Rosy is grateful. But human beings are animals and she's just being a mama bear. She's protecting her own the only way she can. She's just trying to get her life back, and that includes the babies. You have to let her do that. You have to let go. They are not yours. You can still love them but you have to remember who they really belong to. And if you do that, I'm sure they'll let you visit whenever you want."

God, it killed me when he said that. I don't ever want to let go. I don't want to just be a random visitor. But I know that I love those babies and I love the family, and if bowing out gracefully is what I have to do to make them happy, then that is what I'll do. It's one of the hardest things I've had to do.... but I'm going to be a mama bear someday too.