Mother's Day was this Sunday and it was a hard one.
My beautiful little girl brought home a lovely gift that she made for me at school, along with one that her new step mom helped her make. While it was very nice of step mom to do that, my raw emotions couldn't quite process it in a healthy way, so I'm still not sure what exactly to think.
What was more painful, though, was the Mother's Day gift from school. It was a place mat with my daughter's handprints on it and it had little "facts" about her "mommy". Every year, I get something like this that makes me feel special and loved in a way that no one else can be, because no one else gets the privilege of being her mommy. My little six year old is the sweetest girl on the planet, and it is to her credit that, not wanting her step mom to feel left out, there in her backpack was a second place mat for step mom, complete with the "facts" about "my mommy".
My Mother's Day was crushed.
So here it is. I am grateful that she has another person in her dad's home to love her. The more people that love her and her sister, the better. I am happy that she is thoughtful and kind enough to think of the feelings of her stepmother on Mother's Day. And I smiled graciously and praised her for that very kindness.
But....my heart broke just a little, knowing that another woman is being called "Mommy" by the girl I carried, the little princess for whom I would give my life.
Dear stepmother to my daughters. Thank you for taking care of my children. You did not ask to be in that role, and that you take it is commendable. But know that I didn't want anyone else to have to stand in for me. Know that if I could have them with me every night, snuggled in my bed, that I would do it. Know that if I had my way, I would rather wrangle three children, exhausted and alone, than have to have a piece of my heart and soul go missing every other week. Know that you are not needed because I have given them up to you, but because they were taken from me by a court; that to me, they are not property to be equally divided, but manifestations of myself that I would sacrifice (and have sacrificed) anything and everything for.
Dear stepmother, it is not you that I am angry with. It is not you who makes me choke down tears on those nights when my children are happy and cared for in your home. It is not you who my bitterness and vile is directed towards. It is the man who told me once "If we ever get divorced, I wouldn't dream of separating you and the girls. They know you and are closer to you than anyone else. They would have to be with you." It is directed at that same man, who then went on a campaign to smear my name and reputation, who told countless strangers and the court of law that I was mentally unstable, who manipulated, stalked and lied to me and others to fight in court over something he knew wasn't best for our children. The man who admitted afterward to putting pressure on me with the express intention of forcing me to get a restraining order so he could tell a court that I was crazy. The man who told me that my kids deserved to be in primary custody with him and not me because he moved a complete stranger into our house to have a two-parent home for them; who told a judge that they were better without their mother because he had already replaced me and he could give them the stability that "we always wanted for them". The man who responded with "Well, that's why I don't believe in divorce. It's your own fault," when I begged him to have mercy on them and me.
I am angry at the man who's purpose in our divorce was to emotionally, spiritually, and financially bankrupt me so that I couldn't fight back.
I am angry at the man who fought dirty when I was at my most vulnerable; who kicked me when I was down; who saw my position as an advantage that he could take. And I am glad every day that I am away from a person who is willing to treat the mother of his children the way he treated me, because no one should treat even their worst enemy that way.
Dear stepmother, the wounds that are still healing for me are deep and infected. It will be a long time before the scar tissue swallows them up. I know I am raw. I know I am angry. I know I am grieving, and with time, I will be less angry, less raw, and more gracious. When I became a mother, when I first felt that precious six year old stir in my tummy, when I laid eyes on the baby girl who just gave you a Mother's Day gift, I believed I would never let her be apart from me for a second. She and I are bonded in a way you might understand if you looked at your own daughter.
So if I act standoffish towards you, or if my face turns to stone when you try to give me advice about parenting, please be patient with me. I am a work in progress. I am trying to be kind. I am trying not to judge. I am trying not to be petty nor will I be vindictive or cruel to you.
But I'm begging you to respect this one thing:
I will always and forever be their first and only mommy.
My beautiful little girl brought home a lovely gift that she made for me at school, along with one that her new step mom helped her make. While it was very nice of step mom to do that, my raw emotions couldn't quite process it in a healthy way, so I'm still not sure what exactly to think.
What was more painful, though, was the Mother's Day gift from school. It was a place mat with my daughter's handprints on it and it had little "facts" about her "mommy". Every year, I get something like this that makes me feel special and loved in a way that no one else can be, because no one else gets the privilege of being her mommy. My little six year old is the sweetest girl on the planet, and it is to her credit that, not wanting her step mom to feel left out, there in her backpack was a second place mat for step mom, complete with the "facts" about "my mommy".
My Mother's Day was crushed.
So here it is. I am grateful that she has another person in her dad's home to love her. The more people that love her and her sister, the better. I am happy that she is thoughtful and kind enough to think of the feelings of her stepmother on Mother's Day. And I smiled graciously and praised her for that very kindness.
But....my heart broke just a little, knowing that another woman is being called "Mommy" by the girl I carried, the little princess for whom I would give my life.
Dear stepmother to my daughters. Thank you for taking care of my children. You did not ask to be in that role, and that you take it is commendable. But know that I didn't want anyone else to have to stand in for me. Know that if I could have them with me every night, snuggled in my bed, that I would do it. Know that if I had my way, I would rather wrangle three children, exhausted and alone, than have to have a piece of my heart and soul go missing every other week. Know that you are not needed because I have given them up to you, but because they were taken from me by a court; that to me, they are not property to be equally divided, but manifestations of myself that I would sacrifice (and have sacrificed) anything and everything for.
Dear stepmother, it is not you that I am angry with. It is not you who makes me choke down tears on those nights when my children are happy and cared for in your home. It is not you who my bitterness and vile is directed towards. It is the man who told me once "If we ever get divorced, I wouldn't dream of separating you and the girls. They know you and are closer to you than anyone else. They would have to be with you." It is directed at that same man, who then went on a campaign to smear my name and reputation, who told countless strangers and the court of law that I was mentally unstable, who manipulated, stalked and lied to me and others to fight in court over something he knew wasn't best for our children. The man who admitted afterward to putting pressure on me with the express intention of forcing me to get a restraining order so he could tell a court that I was crazy. The man who told me that my kids deserved to be in primary custody with him and not me because he moved a complete stranger into our house to have a two-parent home for them; who told a judge that they were better without their mother because he had already replaced me and he could give them the stability that "we always wanted for them". The man who responded with "Well, that's why I don't believe in divorce. It's your own fault," when I begged him to have mercy on them and me.
I am angry at the man who's purpose in our divorce was to emotionally, spiritually, and financially bankrupt me so that I couldn't fight back.
I am angry at the man who fought dirty when I was at my most vulnerable; who kicked me when I was down; who saw my position as an advantage that he could take. And I am glad every day that I am away from a person who is willing to treat the mother of his children the way he treated me, because no one should treat even their worst enemy that way.
Dear stepmother, the wounds that are still healing for me are deep and infected. It will be a long time before the scar tissue swallows them up. I know I am raw. I know I am angry. I know I am grieving, and with time, I will be less angry, less raw, and more gracious. When I became a mother, when I first felt that precious six year old stir in my tummy, when I laid eyes on the baby girl who just gave you a Mother's Day gift, I believed I would never let her be apart from me for a second. She and I are bonded in a way you might understand if you looked at your own daughter.
So if I act standoffish towards you, or if my face turns to stone when you try to give me advice about parenting, please be patient with me. I am a work in progress. I am trying to be kind. I am trying not to judge. I am trying not to be petty nor will I be vindictive or cruel to you.
But I'm begging you to respect this one thing:
I will always and forever be their first and only mommy.
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