How sad that little girls don’t dream of becoming stepmoms when they grow up

Here I am the same as before, but different in every way.


wanting to be there for them every second, but knowing full well such things are impossible.

I have to let go everyday.

Every morning when I wake up and they are not there.

Each time we get in the car headed South again.

They inspire my every thought and they hold my dreams in their ever-growing hands, their smiles are like granted wishes and their laughs like answered prayers.

How can I describe the place they have in my heart?

I have read the words of many women in my situation and though some come close,

all are off by a long shot,

because every situation is unique in and of itself.

I did not bear them and I can never claim them as my own

and none of that matters in the slightest to me.

Their pictures hang in my office, our bedroom, all over the house; they are tucked in my wallet and always behind my lids as I rest.

My sleep filled with hopes of the next time we meet or memories of the last time we saw each other.

Every time they call to me, reach out to take my hand or we share a silent joke, I am born again.

Reminded why I do any of what I do and why it is all worth the effort and pain.

It is not their reaction that matters, what is important is that every second we have together I try my best.

They know how much they mean to me and they are comfortable in the space we share together,

absolutely sure of their station in my life.

We are bound by their father, but we have found a common ground apart from him- not that he is apart from us, only we are not dependent on him to hold us to one another.

We build what we can with the time we have, we do not fret when we part, only hope for more time in the future.

Years pass like minutes, flying ever closer to the unsure future. I try not to be greedy, but I can’t stop wishing for more of their time.

Missing them completely, but knowing they never really leave me when they are gone,

this is what it means to me to be a stepmom.

Giving all that you have without any assurance or guarantee, only the constant choice to put them first,

to hold them up and let them shine.

It’s not about me and it never was,

it’s about them.

We all like to find snakes, what’s not to like?!

6 Comments on “How sad that little girls don’t dream of becoming stepmoms when they grow up

  1. Pingback: A Week On the Fog-line. | Wicked Rural Homestead

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