If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story. Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma has a career in sales. Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: firstname.lastname@example.org Please continue to share the blog with others.
May 14, 2017
This is my 7th Mother’s Day without my daughter. I had 16 Mother’s Days with Emma, and actually the 16th was pretty lousy, so I really had 15 good Mother’s Days with my daughter. It was just before that 16th Mother’s day,of 2010 that I had had told my sister in Ct. about Emma’s accusing the priest of sexual molestation. I think that was about the time Emma really began to hate me. I remember picking her up in the car and telling her that I had spoken with her aunt, and Emma was so furious she wouldn’t even speak to me. We were planning a trip to go visit, and my sister and brother-in-law would know something wasn’t right, so I felt I had to tell them. Emma’s control-freak, micro-managing mother was taking things too far, talking to police, counselors, family, friends, etc. The snowball was rolling down hill and picking up speed. All Emma wanted was attention, and she didn’t want the church, the police, the therapists, DFACS, multiple therapists involved. Well, actually, Emma did like some of the attention. She just wanted to pick and choose which attention she received. She loved her hour with the therapists where she had their undivided attention all focused on her for an entire hour. I remember when Emma was middle school age, and Phill kept calling her a drama queen. I thought he was overreacting a little bit to what was a typical pre-teen girl. Maybe he was, but it turned into what Phill used to call a “self-fulfilling prophesy” and Emma became that drama queen that he so often said she was. (And on the flip side, Phill became that dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks-dad that Emma always claimed he was.)
Mother’s Day was usually a quiet holiday in our home. We didn’t do big exciting gifts. Phill might get me some flowers and take Emma out to get me a small gift. That was fine. It was more the attention from Emma, when she was little, that made it a special day. She would hug me multiple times in a day and tell me “Happy Mother’s Day” over and over again. That was what made is special. Or just doing something together was what made it special. Phill might cook me dinner, and do the clean up, and that was a nice treat as well.
I was pretty disappointed in my 2016 Mother’s Day. Emma wanted to play for the Mother’s Day Fashion show after church. She loved all the attention she got for playing the piano, and that was fine. All I had asked for was that afterwards, we have an afternoon at Ft. Yargo, the local state park. I didn’t assume I would have to spell it out, but what I’d meant was a hike and a cookout at the park. For whatever reason, Phill was particularly dense and didn’t bother to get things together for the cookout, and Emma was sulky and sullen, a total non-joy for the afternoon, although at times, she’d put on her fakey smile and pretend like she was enjoying the day. My mother’s day gift from Emma was some candy from the dollar store. No thought or effort involved. I don’t think Emma even got or made me a card that year. Yep, definitely not a banner day.
If you have teenagers, you know how self-centered they can be, and I sure felt like an afterthought, but I knew that was typical for a kid Emma’s age. Occasionally, she could be so sweet and thoughtful, and then on a special day like Mother’s Day, Emma went to absolutely no trouble at all. I was disappointed, but thought that was a typical teen. There were other times, when Emma did something special for me, or was out and brought me home a little something when she was out, which showed me she did think of me, or did appreciate me. One of the sweetest things Emma ever did was to be nice to me when I had a migraine.
I suffered from migraines for years and would go lie in the darkened bedroom with the pillow over my eyes, and Emma would come in and hold my hand and always want to make me a cup of tea. Often times, I was nauseated and really didn’t want the tea, but Emma loved to do it for me, so I took it and thanked her and sipped on it. It was those things she did with love that meant so much to me.
Mother’s Day is difficult for a lot of women, and men too. Some people have lost their mothers. Some couples struggle with infertility and don’t know if they will every be parents. Some mothers have children far away in the military, or in prison, or just far away in another country. And many mothers have children like Emma, who are estranged or mentally ill or on drugs. The internet makes the world a very small place, and I’ve found that many mothers (and fathers) are dealing with the same thing that I have endured for the last 7 years.
I’m sorry Emma has turned out like she has, but I still had the joy of being a mother. The first few years were amazing. How I adored my precious little girl. When she was a baby, it seemed like whatever I did, I did with her in my arms or on my hip. When she was preschool age, I was still the one she wanted to help her with things or to kiss her boo-boos. It’s funny how you go from being that “My mom can do anything” kind of mom to the “My mom is so stupid” kind of mom in the blink of an eye.
In Emma’s case, I think homeschooling was a mistake. Someone pointed out to me that Phill and I didn’t want to see that there was a problem with Emma, and we didn’t realize how much she lied. This person mentioned that other kids would have caught on to Emma pretty quickly and she wouldn’t have been able to pull off a lot of the lies that she did. Kids her own age would have been a lot more savvy than her parents who were blinded by the love for their daughter. Of course, that has also made me wonder if it could have made Emma even worse, and maybe she would have turned into an even better liar had she attended school and been around other kids, some of who were probably just as devious as our sweet Emma.
But, for some people, homeschooling is amazing, and I did get to see some glimpses of that. It was amazing to see Emma grow and learn, and when she really was interested in a topic, seeing her research it on her own. Homeschooling sort of opened up the world to teach one that we are learning all the time, not just until 2:45 when school lets out.
I know for some kids, pulling away is normal. Just before going off to college, kids can be so obnoxious and unpleasant, that the parents want them to go away, and it helps the kids to break away and become more independent. Of course, most kids don’t go to the extreme that Emma did, lying about sexual abuse, accusing a priest, making up stories about a fake suicide attempt, lying about a friend’s mother’s illness, lying about her own mother…
I was reading some books recently and wondering if Emma had read them. We used to have a lot of good discussions about books. I miss that. Other times, I think how I was that boring “mom” and I was just a mom, the lowest of the low in Emma’s eyes. I’m lucky now that I have job I like, and working with the public, I definitely acquire some stories about work, and I miss being able to tell Emma about things, like when I worked at Master’s Academy and we would talk about our classes. Sometimes something will happen at work and I’ll think that instead of that boring introverted mother, Emma might actually think I was cool, and maybe now she wouldn’t look down on her ol’ boring mother. I wish we could talk and I could hear about her job selling insurance. How did she choose to go into this field? It’s a long way from the pediatrician my little girl wanted to become, not that that’s a bad thing. Most of us don’t choose our career when we’re in the 2nd grade. I would love to know how Emma became an insurance agent? Did she finish college or does she plan on it? I’m assuming Tyler is working on his Master’s, only because I’d always heard that you couldn’t really do much with a B.S. Architecture, even from a school like Notre Dame. Does Emma like her job? She does have the personality to make a good salesperson, I think. I would think all her drama classes would contribute to convincing people to buy insurance too.
I was also thinking lately about how lucky I am that at least I know Emma is not alone out in California. She is married and with Tyler, so it does give me some comfort knowing my daughter is not in this big bad world all alone. I’ve known several people who are or were the parents of addicts and often (sometimes for years) had no idea where their children were or if they were even alive. As bad as this whole experience has been, I know it could be worse. At least I know Emma’s safe and not living on the streets somewhere.
So, for all you Mothers out there who are the parents of those “nightmare children,” just know that you are not alone. We may life in the shadows, because we have that child that we can’t brag about, and we are that mom that no one wants to be, but we are still moms, and just because our baby has taken a very bad turn, they are still our baby. Some kids will turn their lives around, and give their mom that happy ending. Others will go on whatever destructive path they have chosen, and they may have broken your heart, but you’ve survived. We mothers are a tough bunch.
Lots of Love to you, dear readers. You can contact me through the website or e-mail me at email@example.com