My Dad married my stepmother when I was 8 years old. My mom had died in a car accident a year prior. After my dad remarried, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to love my stepmom. I did love her, don't get me wrong, but I was riddled with guilt over it. My stepmom saw things in me others had not. She signed me up for piano lessons and bought me my first guitar. She drove me to tap, jazz and ballet lessons as well as to auditions. When I landed the part in a play, she sewed all of my costumes and helped me practice my lines.
What was hard was trying to grapple with what loving my stepmom meant. In my young mind I worried that if I loved her and treasured all of the opportunities that came with having her in my life, that somehow meant that I was glad that my mother had died. I judged myself and thought I should be grieving my mother and not traipsing off to work with my stepmom on Saturdays. But I loved going to work with her and volunteering. It made me feel special.
Could it be possible to love my stepmother and miss my mother at the same time? The grief was real, for sure. But so was the love I had for my stepmom.
The first time I met her, I climbed into her lap and asked, "When are you and dad getting married?" I'm grateful she didn't panic. She laughed instead. They did get married, though 10 years later she and my dad divorced. I don't think I really understood how much I loved her until she was gone, and I felt the loss.
How could I have lost two moms? But I didn't lose her. After a few years of quiet between us in my early adulthood, we rekindled our relationship. I guess you could say I kept her in the divorce.
Before my mom died, my parents were also foster parents. We always seemed to have six children in the house: three biological children and three foster kids. My mom loved each of them and she cried when they left us for permanent placement. If my mom opened our home and filled the void for other little girls in crisis, I can only imagine that she would want the same for us when faced with the hardship of her untimely death.
Perhaps loving my stepmom (whom I call mom these days) and loving everything she brings to my life is one of the most pure ways I can honor my birth mom, her legacy and the love she offered children who also missed their moms.
Now that I'm a parent, I understand that the more people who love your child, the better. There is no competition, and love is not pie: there's always enough for everyone. Children need to know they can love both biological parents and stepparents -- guilt free.
In May we celebrate Mother's Day, Stepmother's Day and National Foster Care Month. All three converge in me, and all three are opportunities to honor the incredible two women I call Mom.
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