Tonight, I’m restless, sleep eludes me. My mind is filled with half-written poems, blogs, and snatches of literature, but tonight I need to write this confession. Here it is: I’m a step-mom. I have two beautiful children by marriage because I have not given birth to any of my own. Already, some of you reading this have demonized me, made me into the “other” woman who is nothing but a man-stealer. I’m not. I will readily relate the whole incident, but not in this post(quite funny, I might add the story). I’m a step-mom. These are some of the struggles.
My struggles are not most mothers struggles. Most mothers don’t understand how it feels to have your children lie about you to their birth mother, or understand the grace needed not react to this(I don’t always act gracefully). Most mothers don’t have to fumble around and defend their right to be called “mother” even though these children live full-time with me–I do the laundry, cooking, cleaning, story time, and any illnesses. Yet, I will always be just the “stepmom.” Most mothers do not have to hide the pain when your child makes the school craft project, gives it to me, then says “no, it is for mom” and gives it away. Stepmothers are treated differently, frowned upon, second class citizens in the mothering world.
As a defense mechanism, I hide these feelings–locked away, where no one sees or feels this. Secure in the position that I am alone, and no one else understands. Struggles are not easy, nor will I sugar coat them in a high fructose corn syrup kind of faith. But there is hope. I have faith that in the end His grace is still sufficient. For now, that is the only hope I have.