Meredith Heath, aunt to nephews A, B, and C, erstwhile graduate student, and coffee master extraordinaire, writes about her feelings of loss during a period of transition in the lives of her nephews. An avid aunt for nearly six years and surrogate aunt to countless (no, really) other nieces and nephews, Meredith spends much of her free time with “the babies.” When not playing with the little ones or serving a hot cup o’ Joe at the local coffee shop, Meredith can be found researching family history, reading texts from the literary canon she missed during ten years of college, and wrangling ideas about how to return to graduate school without paying for tuition.

Before my oldest nephew was born, I thought that being in love was the strongest emotion I would ever experience, but the moment I first held him, my heart opened wider than I knew was possible, and I felt that I would willingly go to the moon or move mountains for him.

During the ensuing six years, two more precious boys have arrived, and at three, four, and five, their stair-stepped antics are my joy and delight. I have fed them, changed their diapers, cleaned up their throw-up, given them medicine, watched them overnight, taken them to the park, comforted them, scolded them, kissed and hugged them, tickled them to tears, and talked to them about their fears of the dark, of dogs, and of the water. I am Aunt Sissy, and that is the best title I’ve ever known.

I am not their mama, but without children of my own, the love and concern I feel for my boys cannot be superseded by any other thought or emotion I have ever experienced. With the start of this new school year, my journey as an aunt has taken yet another turn as I watched all three of my nephews begin either pre-school or kindergarten. They each need school for different reasons, but as much as I want the best for them, I dreaded the separation anxiety I was sure to experience.

And it is there. I can no longer drop in for lunch or early morning snuggles when they are still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. No cuddling with baby #3 as he lays down for his afternoon nap or romping in the yard with basketballs and bicycles. But there are new joys to be had: it is one proud aunt who walks into their respective schools, entrusted with their little selves at the end of the school day. Their faces light up when they see me, and my oldest nephew literally jumps into my arms every time he finds me there. The very first afternoon when I met them in the hallway, the little one who has a speech delay walked up to his oldest brother and called him by name. My heart melted, and I knew that the help he was receiving could only be a benefit to him;  and when he naps at school, it is still sometimes my arms that pick him up – arms where he knows he is safe and comfortable. I whisper, “It’s okay. It’s Aunt Sissy,” and he snuggles into my shoulder as we walk to the car. My middle man is less outwardly demonstrative – he’s like his mama in that way – but we talk about school and what he is learning – his mama says that he’s like me in that way. I am still Aunt Sissy.

We have started what I like to call “Aunt Sissy dates.” The boys are still a bit too young to understand the significance of individualized time, but I’ve committed to taking them one by one on excursions with me so that they each know they are important. Often, it’s just running an errand, but we usually end up with ice cream or some other treat. They get their own cuddle time and talk time with me, and I learn more about their individual personalities and not just the character of their three-pronged unit. This knowledge is essential – Daddy will be leaving soon for the Air Force Reserves basic training, and Aunt Sissy will be something of a temporary “ParAunt,” a role I will happily oblige.

As I continue further into Aunthood, other moments of angst await. But what will worrying add to their days or their security? Instead, I try to lay down my concerns for them and for myself and realize that their success and security are not entirely dependent on the adults in their lives. We are present, no doubt, to usher them into mature and mindful adults, but as that reality is yet a few years away, I choose to enjoy my blissful time with my boys now. They are precious. Rotten, too, as I always remark to anyone who will listen, but precious. Love them so much. They are my favorites, and I am their favorite Aunt Sissy.

Photo: phanlop88
Published: September 17, 2012