First, let’s address one of the many elephants in the room. Despite the article’s name, I’m not fond of being around children, especially small children. When it comes to interacting with kids, my motto has always been that I prefer children walking, talking, and potty trained — usually, age three and up. I only like being around infants for short periods of time. This requirement hasn’t changed much over the years. Until recently, when I had to make an exception to the rule. It’s so funny how life always has a way of throwing you a curveball that changes your mind and heart.
Okay, so let’s take a look at another fun fact that you should know about me before we get into this heartwarming story. Plot twist! I have no children of my own by choice. Therefore, being around babies has not been my thing since my younger brother was a baby (he and I share a special bond too). Now that I have gotten this piece of critical information off my chest, let’s proceed with this touching tale. I’ll go back to the beginning to where all this started to give you a bit of perspective about my situation.
The Back Story
Back in the fall of 2017, I had a mental health crisis, which led me to take long-term leave from work for the rest of the school year (I was a teacher for 22 years. I bet you didn’t see that coming.). Anyway, when it was time for me to return to work the next school year, I wasn’t mentally ready, but my mounting bills insisted I go back to work to survive.
About a week before I was scheduled to return to work, my baby brother, Kahlil, called, making a very passionate plea for me to quit my job and move to Arizona to live with his family and focus on getting better. He feared that I would damage my progress or much worse if I went back to work before I was fully healed.
At the end of the conversation, I was touched by his offer but gracefully declined for many reasons. A week later, I was back at work struggling to maintain my sanity. Teaching will do that to the strongest amongst us. So, imagine what it was doing to a person like me who was riding the mental struggle bus.
As it turns out, my brother was right all along. (Please don’t tell him I said that. I will never hear the end of it.) Two months after our conversation, I had several meltdowns at work and home, which led to a final crippling situation one morning in the school parking lot. It was the last straw that forced me to call my mother and leave work and my entire professional life for good.
Uprooting My Life
After I had calmed down (because I was utterly hysterical and sobbing) and mustered up the nerve to pull out of my job’s parking lot, I drove to my mother’s house. She had already been on the phone with Kahlil. The two of them agreed that I needed to quit my job immediately. Unfortunately, that meant that I would have to leave my apartment and temporarily live with someone until I got better. Moving back home to my mother’s wasn’t an option because she had sold her house a month before and was heading to Arizona to live with Kahlil. Therefore, Kahlil’s offer was back on the table. I had no other choice but to move to Arizona to live with his family. (We moved six weeks later, at the beginning of December 2018.)
Before my mother and I officially moved to Arizona, my brother would jokingly say that he would buy me an emotional support pet to help with my recovery. For those of you that don’t know about this form of therapy, according to the American Kennel Club, “Emotional support animals (ESAs) refer to dogs and other pets that provide emotional support and comfort to their owners on a daily basis.” Emotional support animals do not undergo formal training, but their owners/handlers benefit from having them around. ESAs help people manage anxiety attacks or fight depression (esadoctors.com).
Of course, I didn’t find his declaration the least bit funny. Because not only did I dislike being around children, but I truly disliked animals even more (Another fun fact about me. Aren’t I just chock full of surprises today?). Sure, I can view animals at a safe distance at the zoo or pet store, but I do not want to live with one. EVER!
To my dismay, a few months after we moved in, my sister-in-law brought home a dog one day after visiting a friend in Tucson. Needless to say, they found out the hard way that I have no interest in animals, no matter how sweet and cute they may be. During the short time Luna lived in our household, she and I had very few interactions. I was relieved when they decided to return her to the original owners. (My family finally came to their senses and realized they aren’t pet people either.)
Now that I have given you some background information, back to the regularly scheduled program.
Adjusting to a New Life
Anyway, I was initially apprehensive about my brother’s offer because he had three young children ages 1–9 at the time. Being around children is a major trigger for me since I was a teacher for so long. As a matter of fact, in one of my final therapy sessions, the therapist stated that I have PTSD from my job, which was a true eureka moment for me because it was an accurate description of how I felt when I thought about work and children. So, as you can imagine, I was nervous about moving to Arizona to live in a house full of people, three of whom were kids.
Honestly, I tried to think positively about the situation initially. I actually thought I would form more of a bond with the older children, Ayla, age five, and Kage, age nine. They met my prerequisites of being potty trained, walking, and talking. Plus, I had positive interactions with them when they visited us back home in DC. Therefore, I thought hanging out with them might be fun.
The baby, Noelle, on the other hand, was another story. She definitely didn’t meet any of my requirements. She cried all of the time, had just started walking, was still in diapers, was still speaking baby babble, and had a slight mean streak (For the record, her parents say the same thing about her, so I’m allowed to say it too). She was my absolute worst nightmare when it came to being around a child for a prolonged period of time. Not to mention, my one interaction with her earlier in the year wasn’t all unicorns and rainbows. Noelle was about seven months old at the time and was a tough cookie who only wanted to deal with her parents. She cried most of the day she was with us and was visibly relieved when her parents arrived to pick her up later that day.
Boss Baby Was No Joke
Fast forward to December of 2018, Noelle is one, walking, and feistier than ever. She is absolutely not fond of having two new people in her world and wasn’t afraid to express it via the most epic temper tantrums that I have ever witnessed. Noelle absolutely hated it when her parents would place her in our care and leave the house for a few hours. She would instantly drop to the floor and roll from wall to wall to express her discontent. She appeared to be possessed. It was actually fascinating to watch. If we tried to pick her up to console her, her screams turned to blood curdling screeches. Her wails could rival a banshee.
By now, you can clearly see that she wasn’t fond of grandma and me in the beginning. It would take over six months for the two of us to build a relationship (six exceptionally long and trying months). Can you see my eyes rolling right about now?
I spent the next few months trying to adjust to my new life in Arizona and a house full of people. Noelle’s cries at night didn’t help the situation. She was literally tap dancing on my last remaining nerve, and I didn’t know if I could survive with the noise. (If I failed to mention that I’m noise sensitive at the beginning, now you know.) So, imagine how I felt being awakened by her cry at 3 am. Let me tell you; it was traumatic, to say the least. My mental health was practically hanging on by a very thin string that was getting thinner by the minute.
As time marched on, Noelle cried a little less at the sight of me, and I cringed a little less at her presence. Eventually, she would allow me to pick her up and comfort her when her parents weren’t around. If her parents were around, I was persona non grata.
We Finally Bonded
Slowly but surely, our bond started to form unbeknownst to the two of us. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when we became inseparable, but I know it was a series of events that led us down the path of becoming besties.
First, she started coming to me when she wanted to be held. I would pick her up and hold her as she would drift off to sleep. To my surprise, I found holding her very soothing. Listening to her soft breathing and feeling her heartbeat as she slept in my arms was comforting to me. These quiet moments appeared to be good for both of us.
We next bonded over cartoons and animated movies because I was the only adult in the house who could watch them indefinitely and not lose my complete mind. I found them quite soothing to my soul. Therefore, I would sit next to her on the sofa for hours and watch them repeatedly without going batty. We would sing and laugh all day as we watched the same shows over and over again. Her giggles warmed my heart.
Another bonding moment happened over our love for snacks and juice. It became our thing. She would come to me for snacks or a sip of my juice, which annoyed her health-conscious dad. He would admonish me for giving her unhealthy food. But I think that’s why God blessed people with aunts. What kind of aunt would I be if I didn’t spoil her and give her junk food from time to time? I adored how she would light up each time she saw me with a special treat. I loved seeing her smile.
FYI…I taught her how to say please that first year, which was a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, she learned basic etiquette and how to be polite in making requests. On the other hand, she learned how to weaponize the word please quickly to get what she wanted. She even taught herself to tilt her head, bat her pretty eyes, and add a mischievous grin for good measure. Who could resist that? Needless to say, she would get her treat almost every time with her newfound tactics.
Joined at the Hip
By the end of our first year together, we had grown so close that I gave her the nickname of Lil Poo Poo (don’t judge my nickname game). She also started talking more and started calling me Aunie (This was her way of saying Auntie, minus the “t.” Don’t judge her. She was still learning how to talk). The sound of her calling for me was precious. She would call out for me, and I felt like I was an essential part of her life and world.
As we entered year two of our living arrangement, she and I interacted more and more. Her sister, Ayla, started bringing her to my room in the morning as her parents slept. I think this started because Ayla thought I was the only adult awake, and I was a safe person to take care of Noelle. It was quite funny because it started to feel like a daycare drop off situation. Ayla would knock on my bedroom door around 7 am, I would open the door, and she would have Noelle on her hip. Ayla would then hand Noelle to me and either go back to bed or head downstairs to watch tv. I would then take Noelle and turn on one of her favorite shows.
The entire situation was very amusing. Ayla’s small act unknowingly started a pattern that further tightened my bond with the baby. This morning ritual was the catalyst for giving me a little purpose in life. I started looking forward to waking up and hearing Ayla’s knock on my door. Eventually, Noelle was old enough to come on her own. Every morning I would try to be awake, showered, and fully dressed by the time she arrived at my door. I wanted to be ready for our day. After she knocked, we would proceed downstairs for her favorite breakfast of oatmeal. We sat in comfortable silence as we ate our breakfast and watched something on our tablets while enjoying the peace and quiet of the early morning hours.
At times, I felt like Noelle and I shared a more profound connection. It was so uncanny how she knew when I was down because she seemed to knock on my door at just the right moment and say, “Aunie, downstairs.” Even though I didn’t need to be downstairs, she missed my presence, and that was all I needed to brighten my mood and day.
How Did She Become My Emotional Support Baby?
As our auntie/niece relationship started to blossom, my brother and his wife began to refer to her as my emotional support baby. My mother even said that we had imprinted on each other. At first, it was a funny running joke, but I think we all began to realize there was some truth to both statements over time. Now, we have come to embrace the term emotional support baby and feel it is a blessing.
I never considered in a million years that being around this small human being would brighten my mood and help with my major depressive disorder, but it did. Noelle has played a significant role in my recovery by just being a tiny, defenseless child learning about the world. Having her depend on me when her parents weren’t available gave me purpose and joy. Having her rely on me for her overall well being and basic needs as she developed helped me fight a little more for my recovery each day. In general, she was good for my mental health and spirit.
Experiencing Womb Fire
After this experience, I can finally understand how some people have children to fill a void. They think kids will give them unconditional love, provide them with purpose, and make them happy. As I held Noelle in my arms or interacted with her daily, I felt a sense of calm, purpose, and fun that I haven’t felt in a while.
Additionally, I can also comprehend how some people experience womb fire, which, according to Urban Dictionary, is “The reaction or feeling a woman has to an adorable baby that makes her want to have a baby. Hence, her womb is on fire.” I guess, in my middle years, I could see myself being a mother. It was a very fleeting feeling, but I felt it for a fraction of a second as I held Noelle. Then, of course, Noelle would do something gross and annoying like poop or cry, jolting me back to reality, confirming my choice not to have children.
Separation Anxiety
Two years have gone by, and unfortunately, our time together has come to an end. My brother has decided to go back to school to become a chiropractor. (Darn him for being ambitious and wanting a better life for him and his family. LOL!) His chiropractor school is in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Alas, my mother and I won’t be traveling with them. We will remain in Arizona for a while longer. As you can imagine, I’m incredibly sad, to say the least.
During the two months leading up to their departure, I spent as much time with Lil Poo Poo as I possibly could. Everyone was concerned about how either one of us would react once they moved. We had become inseparable. I think it will be harder on me than her because she is still young enough to forget about our time together, the longer we are apart. I, on the other hand, will always remember the two years we spent together.
I have to admit I shed a little tear at the thought of her leaving in private but tried to stay strong in front of the family. On her last day in Arizona, we spent the day eating her favorite things and doing her favorite activities. Later that evening, my mother and I drove Noelle and her sister back to their parents and had one final family meal together before they drove off on their next adventure the next day. I gave her one last bear hug before they drove off in their car. My heart sank a little as we pulled off in the opposite direction.
Final Thoughts
Just in case you are still wondering how Noelle saved my life after reading this story, here it is in a nutshell. She gave me purpose and hope. Spending time with her everyday required me to focus on someone other than myself. I was forced to live in the moment and not dwell on all of the sad thoughts that are constantly running in my head. Waking up and taking care of her was the kind of good therapy that money can’t buy. Not to mention, the quality time I spent with my niece is PRICELESS.
Plus, life didn’t seem as grim through her bright eyes, and that made all the difference in my life.
I’m telling this story a day after they have hit the road for Minnesota. Writing this story has helped me deal with this shift in my life. We plan to FaceTime (my least favorite thing to do) and stay in contact as much as possible. I fear she will forget me over time. I’ll just become that distant auntie she sees on holidays and other special occasions. Even if that happens, I’ll always fondly remember the two years we spent together and the happy moments we shared. I’ll watch her grow up and be proud. No matter how old she gets, she will always be my Lil Poo Poo, and I’ll always be her Aunie.
