I have finally come across a term that describes my recent bouts of sadness, “Stepmommy blues.” I refuse to use depression because I have been actually very happy lately. Things are going well in my marriage and to account for my happiness last night I danced with my 6 month old Dobie while my son played, “Peanut butter Jelly” for his dad who was entirely clueless to this upbeat tune.
I will pause to suggest that you google that song and listen to it to get the full on visual effect.
Now that you have a full on scene of me dancing in the living room holding my dogs two front paws in my hand prancing to the beat as my husband amusingly stares at me and our son laughs at the moves he did not realize his stepmom had, we can move along.
I am a stepmom to a 9 year old son and it is painful more than it is joyful. To start, if I could do it all over again I am not 100% sold that I would have chose this path. No offense to my husband as I am blessed to have him in my life, but being a stepmother ladies, lets face it. This is not a stroll in the park. This is a marathon race that pounds on the doors of our hearts like feet hitting pavement. I don’t want to be his MOM as he has a mother who is involved in his life and from all accounts does her job well. I do want to be apart of a family and that I am not. I am a mere extension looking through the window pane waiting to be let in. To be frank as possible of my feelings my husband is not much help in this area. His son is his pride and joy in which I would never want to come in between, but I do want to feel included which I am not. At every corner I am reminded that I am the S-T-E-P-M-O-M! As if I needed a reminder that I did not push this boy when he was seconds away from birth through a canal that gets wider than any man could ever imagine. I GET IT ALREADY! That is what I want to shout every time I hear, “My son.”
It is frustrating and I am trying to be patient as the realization that I signed myself up for this constantly rings the evolution of my life into my red hot ears. I just wished this marriage came with a warning label.
CAUTION: CHILD FROM PREVIOUS ENGAGEMENT ON BOARD ANYONE WHO PROCEEDS TO WED THIS MAN WILL FEEL NEGLECTED, NOT IMPORTANT, AND AN INTRUDER/ OUTSIDER.
Maybe had I read the fine print I would not be in this position. For those reading my blog for the first time I grew up in foster care. I already felt the feelings described above for 15 years of my life and as an adult the last thing I wanted for myself was to feel outside in a world that I built. There was nothing more that I wanted to have a family and the happiest time of my life has become the biggest blues that I am not sure Postpartum blues can compare to. I am not this kids mother as much as I may try to be apart of his life. It just is not my position and it will never be. He handles that well. He never makes me feel like I am not apart of this family, his family with him and his dad. Sure he has referred to me as “stepmom” but it had no condescending effect. It was used as a matter of fact. With my husband it is another ball game and it makes me so sad. I am not apart of him, I am just the woman he married. My position has no weight. I am not his flesh and blood, more importantly I haven’t created anything that is his blood, nothing that is an extension of him that connects him to me that would replace this neglect with some basic form of unconditional love. This results in a very painful, very real, stepmommy blues that took root the day I moved in and has festered and reared its ugly head the past 72 hours.
The sad thing is I love this kid, I love kids period. I have my childhood to thank for that. It was bitter sweet but it taught me a lot. Mostly it taught me to be sensitive and attentive to children and perhaps though in my twenties I am still that child. Who is longing and waiting for someone to be attentive to me, my needs. My need for love, for family.
I guess I have been singing the blues far longer than what I thought. I sang the foster-care blues, post foster-care blues, out-on-my-own blues, looking-for-love-in-all-the-wrong-places blues, and now I’m singing the S-T-E-P-Mommy blues.
I think I just found the titles for my next three blogs….
Thank you for reading my blues….
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