I had no idea what it meant to be a mother, let alone a stepmother.
Nor did any of my friends.
I didn’t know that I would have such a hard time relinquishing some control over my house.
I didn’t know that I would be going through the turmoil of infertility while trying to be ahppy when my husbands’ girls were constant reminders of what I couldn’t give him.
I didn’t know that the youngest daughter would eventually want to come live with us.
I didn’t know how emotionally taxing it would be, and how it would be my hard earned money that I would see go into the hands of our attorney to write countless letters in the hopes her mom would sign the paper and be done with it.
I didn’t know anything.
When problems arose I had no one to talk to. No one that could related to what I was going through. I felt utterly alone.
It took almost 2 years before we gained custody of my youngest daughter. Something we thought would be a walk in the park because her mom was on board…at first.
I didn’t know that I would be 8 months pregnant when a blonde, bubbly, 12 year old would move in.
I didn’t know that she would be an answer to my prayers when my husband was deployed for 3 months, 1 month after the birth of our son.
I didn’t know that there would come a time when all those feelings that I had for so many years wouldn’t matter.
During those 3 months I learned how to be a mother not only to a newborn but to that blonde, bubbly, 12 year old and I thank God everday.
photo credit: Matski