Stepmothers
are vile, mean, ugly and wicked and there is plenty of evidence to back those
claims up. Ok, so they’re actually not “evidence”
per se. They’re known as fairy tales but
you have to admit that fairy tales have ingrained a stereotype of stepmothers
into our brains. You can hardly say the
word “stepmother” without thinking the words “ugly” or “wicked”
beforehand. In fact, I have actually had
someone come up to me in all seriousness and say, “Oh you must be the wicked
stepmother!” Yet, here I find myself,
smack-dab in the middle of my every own fairy tale, where I have the starring
role as the stepmother. (Please hold all
applause until the end of the performance!)
After
my divorce, when the possibility of being a stepmother became more real, I
thought more about finding a good stepfather for my own children than I did
thinking about the day I would become a stepmother. To me it was never a question of if it would
happen but when. (In the Mormon
community it is a rare thing to find a 30- or 40-something without children so
I was quite certain the man I married would have children of his own.) I heard horror stories from friends about
their experience with step-motherhood.
Many times I heard the phrase, “I’m just not sure I could love them like
I love my own children.” At the time it
didn’t faze me. I didn’t worry myself
sick whether or not I would be accepted as a stepmother or whether I would like
let alone love my future stepchildren.
Since
my marriage to my darling husband and love of my life, I have pondered (many
times in fact) my role as stepmother and the feelings and love that have come because of this role. (Yes, you read it right! I love my stepchildren and I love being a stepmom.)
Today,
I was told that I couldn’t love my stepchildren. That I may try but I could never them with
the same love I have for my own children.
Why not? Why can’t I love my
stepchildren? Why can’t I love my stepchildren
as if they were my own? For you see I
do, I love my stepchildren so much! I
love them with a love I never knew was possible! I didn’t give birth to them but I love them
as if I had! And I defy anyone who says otherwise!
It
seems so natural to me to love them with my whole heart. I love the way their eyes twinkle at exciting
news. I love their laughs and
giggles. I love their playfulness. I even love the way they roll their eyes at
me, it makes me feel like a real mom. I
cry their tears of sadness and long to hold them tight. If they only knew how my arms ache to comfort
them, to sooth away the hurt, heartache, and sorrow they feel. (I wish someday they will allow this of me.)
I
did not give birth to them but is that really a requirement for love? I don’t think so. I think God sent them to me through a
different manner than birth and expects me to care for them and love them as if
they were my own. I believe He has
entrusted them into my care with the same expectations as with my original
two. And since it is God that is asking
this of me, how can I say no.
I
want to love them. I want to help them
reach the potential that is in each of them.
I want to show them all the beauty and wonder this world has to
offer. I want to teach them the joy of
service and the happiness the gospel brings.
I do not require them to call me mom or mother. (That is an honor I would never take away from
their mother.) I’m ok with them calling
me Rachel. They don’t ever have to love
me back for that is their choice. I just
hope and pray that they look back on this time and think of me fondly and know assuredly
that I loved them and looked upon them as my own.
