Those Three Little Words

I love you. How many times have we told her? A million. In a million different ways. It was our constant refrain those first few months after she came home. We love you! Daddy loves you! Everyone prayed for you! Everyone loves you!
I love you.
Oh, she fought that love. To some degree with her daddy, but most violently from me. I would cuddle her; she would stiffen. I'd look at her with my heart in my eyes; she would stare through me with hatred. I'd whisper words of tenderness; she would scream and claw at my face. Though I had laughed when first reading them, I found myself repeating the scripted words of Holding Time, "You are strong. But I am stronger. My love is strong enough to hold you." It became my mantra for 18 months. Looking back, I don't think it was true. Only God's love is that strong. Strong enough to hold both of us.
Long after the rages subsided, she could not respond to our verbal expressions of love. She could talk--in sentences--yet somehow those three words eluded her. "I want oatmeal." "Where is my book?" were no problem, but at night when we would tuck her in and whisper, "I love you," she would reply, "cabritogel," or some other nonsense. It never sounded like, "I love you." Not even close.
It wasn't until Abby and Marina became roommates that display of passive resistance disappeared. I tell you, that child cannot bear to be excluded from anything, and occasionally that works to our advantage. I would say, "Goodnight, girls, I love you."
Abby: I love you, Mommy!
Marina: expressionless I. love. you. too.
Empty words, disconnected and meaningless.
I'll never forget the day last spring when Marina crept up behind my lawn chair. We were out with the daycare kids enjoying the beautiful sunshine. She put her hand on my shoulder, "Mommy." "Hmm?" "I love you." I couldn't believe my ears. Did I just imagine those words? I pulled her around to face me. She couldn't look at me in the eye, she stared at the ground, embarrassed. She said it! She actually said it! She LOVES me! Breath, Jessica, breath. Act like this is commonplace....DON'T OVERREACT!!!! "I--I love you, too, Baby." I gave her a quick hug, and she smiled and ran off to play. I cried.
The next day was the Hair Cutting Day. A day that will live in infamy. On the following occasion Marina told me she loved me, she painted the side of her bed with blood-red fingernail polish. The third time, she followed her expression of affection by destroying a half dozen of our outdoor playthings. When she was spanked for her actions, she grabbed the spoon from my hands and tried to attack me.
I may be slow, but I'm starting to see a pattern here. Sunday, out of nowhere, Marina looked me right in the eyes and said, "Mommy, I love you." "I love you, Marina." And while those words still hold so much sweetness for me, I dread the sting. Sure enough, she pushed all my buttons yesterday. Thank goodness the master didn't go into P*p* John's. He ran interference for me in the evening, when her acting out had reached a crescendo. You see, armed with my new suspicions of how this whole "I love you" thing was playing out, I was able to keep my cool. And she was growing desperate.
In the end, she succeeded. Her daddy put her to bed at 8:00 and told her to lay down and be still, so she did the opposite. When I went to get the baby up for her 10:00 bottle, I found her jumping like a maniac around the room she had trashed. She had opened all of her sister's special treasures, and gorged herself on a sack of hoarded Halloween candy. I haven't found any signs that she urinated on anything, but it doesn't mean that I won't. I could tell she was glad to finally have been discovered. I admit, I lost it.
The master administered her actual punishment, but I found myself yelling at her: "I know why you are doing this. I KNOW WHY! You told me you loved me yesterday. And now you are trying to push me away. You can't make me stop loving you! It doesn't matter what you do! I love you, and you are stuck with me! Do you hear me? I am your mother FOREVER!" Not the usual choice of speech for a butt chewing, but that is what is overflowing from my heart in those angry, confused, frustrated moments. And for her, them's fightin' words. She is afraid of the love she feels, the love she needs.
I don't know how to handle this. But I know when I'm yelling, she is winning. This is a battle she cannot afford to win. Heaven help us, how would her marriage survive the honeymoon? Based on my research, the best approach would be to not react negatively to her negative behavior (so far, I've been a total wash out with that) and have her spend every waking moment with me following any vocal expression of love. This ought to make for some interesting notes to the teacher:

Please excuse Marina for her absence on Tuesday. She told me she loved me on Monday.