Mom

“Mom! Will you watch me? I’m going to go up so high that I touch the sky! Just you wait!” and off he zips to the nearby swing set to touch the heavens. “I’ve never seen a child look so much like his mother! He is the spitting image of you!” “Thank you but I don’t get any of the credit for his cuteness, he’s my stepson.” The woman looks incredulously from Carl to me and back again before asking what I seem to be asked multiple times a day… “Are you sure? He looks just like you.” I smile and say “I’m sure but thank you all the same. His father and mother are lucky to have created such a child and I’m fortunate to have him in my life.” Yes, at ten years of age my stepson has chosen to call me “Mom”. I have been in Carl’s life since the age of two and am a full-time custodial stepmother. I am actively involved in every aspect of his life and fully financially responsible for Carl. We are extremely close and bonded from the beginning. My stepson’s biological mother lives in a different town and Carl visits her some weekends. She was not married to my husband at the time that Carl was conceived and both went their separate ways before he reached the age of two. My husband has always been the custodial parent. As in many blended family situations, the adults do not see eye-to-eye and court has been a mainstay in our lives. But one thing is certain; we love Carl very much. “But how can she let him call her Mom?! He has a Mom!” I already know that at least half of anyone reading this article zoned in on the very first word of this piece and have not gotten off the bio-train. So let me just explain that my stepson started calling me “Mommy” when he was three years of age. My husband and I both corrected it repeatedly. By the time he was five he would have major breakdowns any time I gently reminded him that “I am not your Mommy, you have a Mommy. I am your Helen.” This was very confusing for him as I was the one who filled the Mommy role read in every book and described by all his friends. I was the one who tended to him when he was sick, helped him with his homework, bought his clothes, kissed his boo boos, threw his parties, baked cupcakes for his class, signed him up for sports, arranged play dates, took him to doctor appointments, read him stories, etcetera. When he woke in the night, he called for me. When he was ill, he reached for me. If he got injured at a sports game, he ran to me. In his world, I was “Mom”. “But where was your husband? He should have been doing all those things. You overstepped!” When Carl was five, my husband was diagnosed with an incurable disease. It is similar to Multiple Sclerosis and Lupus combined. My husband went from being the breadwinning Superman of our family to a shell of his former self. Pretty soon he was out of work. I work anywhere from two to three jobs at any given time. My husband is still actively involved in Carl’s life but now has to work around his physical limitations. Even at this point, Carl’s biomom was unwilling to help- with her time with Carl or even financially. If anything, she saw it as an opportunity to hurt my husband even more… and ultimately Carl. At one point she even sought to collect child support from me even though Carl lived with us full time. My days consisted of working twelve hours at night, coming home to get Carl ready for school, caring for my husband, working a few more hours, sleeping a couple hours, working on court paperwork, picking Carl up from school/sports, making dinner, and then going back to work. At night when things got slow I worked on crafts and projects for Carl’s class and more court paperwork. I was honored to be able to do that for my family but we definitely experienced a few dark years. Yet, through it all, I was so worried about his biomom and how she would feel about Carl calling me “Mom” that I pushed against it. It was one week before he turned six where I was approached by his therapist, his teacher, and his doctor who advised me that I should allow it. He could not define himself and his world without prescribing me the role of “Mom”. He had started to say that he didn’t have a Mommy. And as much as I had fought to assist his mother in connecting with her child, I could not force her to do something she was either unwilling or unable to do. I prayed on it. In the end, I stopped worrying so much about Carl’s mother’s feelings and started worrying about just Carl. I decided it would always be his choice… I simply stopped correcting him. He never looked back. He is VERY aware of who his stepmother is and who his bio-mother is. And now he is finally comfortable in who he is. Fighting for Carl in court cost us any biological children of our own as well as my doctoral degree. It is a sacrifice that hurts deep down inside on a personal level but one I would make without hesitation again if I needed to for Carl. My husband’s health has stabilized and Carl has grown. They are happy. I still work insane hours as we are still a single income household. And although we still experience some drama with Carl’s mother, I’ll even say that things there have calmed down some too. Our family is close and life is good. As a stepmother I get judged for no other reason than I am raising someone else’s biological child. I get judged just as much for handmade snowman cake pops and sending decorated goody bags for class parties. But above all I get judged harshly for allowing a child to call me “Mom” when there is no biological connection. Little thought is given to the untold script. It doesn’t matter what I am called or even what I say or don’t say; I hope my actions are actions of love and far outcry anything negative whispered. My sole focus is on raising a happy, healthy child who is secure in his world and given every opportunity to succeed in life. It is my sincerest wish for Carl that someday his biomom can be a better mother for him but, until then, my intent is just to be a good parent for Carl- by whatever name he decides to call me. “Mom! Did you see that?!” “Yes, Carl, I did. That was amazing! You are so awesome!! Let’s do it together this time.”