The Mutiny Rages On . . . and a Breakthrough

Two days in a row last week, The Captain's teachers did not call.  A glimmer of hope surged in me;  was the mutiny over?  Had the teachers regained control of the classroom and were The Captain's attempts to overthrow the authorities thwarted once and for all? 

"Nah," as Tink would say.  It was a temporary truce.  On Friday I sent cupcakes so he could celebrate his birthday which would occur over spring break.  True to form, the impending celebration pushed his buttons and he had what was, arguably, his worst day ever.  He pulled it together just in time to wear his birthday crown and share the cupcakes and chocolate milk we'd sent.  Poor baby.


After a challenging weekend in which Dear Hubby's Grandma went to meet her maker after 100 years, 1 month and 2 weeks on earth, we headed north for the funeral.  We passed through The Littles hometown on the way and I saw a glimmer of recognition in The Captain.  He hardly slept our two nights away from home, and laid awake for hours on Wednesday night, back in his own bed.  This is the behavior we saw when he used to have weekly visits. 

I considered the attachment therapist's concern about the (now) quarterly visits.  I recalled The Captain's behavior after the last visit.  I pondered CPS' concern about agreeing to the visits in mediation.  I remembered the mediated agreement is non-binding and not enforceable by the court.  I took all of this to Dear Hubby.  We decided bio-mom will not see The Captain again.  It is too hard for him.

Yesterday, as if somehow knowing we'd made this decision, this boy exercised all sorts of torture on his siblings.  Finally, after numerous interventions, I pulled him aside to ask what in the world was going on.  I did not expect an answer.  He said, simply, that he missed her. 

This is both a tremendous breakthrough and the most heartbreaking thing ever.  I am well acquainted with the heartbreak of knowing your parents chose not to raise you. We've have and are experiencing this with Sunshine and Pepper.  But this heartbreak is different.  This is the heartbreak of being bonded to someone who is so ill-equipped to raise you and who makes such poor choices that the state has decided they must not raise you.  How do you help that heartbreak?  And how do you express it to a just-four-year-old who has little mastery of the language?

I simply told him the truth.  That forever I was his mama, and the other one would not be in his life.  I also told him I was so sorry it had to be that way and that he was in pain.  He seemed satisfied with the response and ran off to play.  Last night he slept soundly and today he is a charmer.  I know it won't last forever, but for now, it's enough.