This weekend, my stepson, asked, “Why is there a Happy Mother’s Day card on the fridge?” I answered simply,
“So-and-so gave it to me.”

Innocently, and accurately, he pointed out, “But you’re not a mother.”

I thought for a moment about my response, “That’s true. So-and-So was being kind, because she knows I think about you all the time, take care of you, and make sure you have everything just like any mothers. So, since stepmoms don’t get a day, she was being kind.”
“Oh, that’s true… Did I get you a Mother’s Day card?”
“No, but that’s OK. I liked helping you celebrate your Mama by picking out her gifts with you.”

I’ve found stepmoms have an interesting set of expectations set, and that the role is more complicated than I understood, even after reading books from experts and trying to prepare myself.

Because I was childless when we married, there’s an expectation in others that I should feel fulfilled in my longing for motherhood, because now I have a stepchild. And in many ways, I am! After all, I am wild about my boy, love my family, and enjoy my role within it.

But on the other hand, I am aware I must never try to take his mother’s place, overstep in my assumptions, or be too big. Nor would I want to: he has two parents already. And so I still pray to get to be someone’s “Mama” myself one day.

I distinctly remember a co-worker, long ago, scoffing at my suggestion of including a stepmom in our classroom Mother’s Day celebration. “It’s for the MOTHER of the child. It’s HER day.” I admit, as a stepmother myself now, that comment runs through my mind a lot.

There’s not any real celebration or party for becoming a first-time parent by becoming a stepparent. There aren’t congratulations given or gifts sent over. I think, deep down, it’s seen as very different than either having or adopting a child. And, to be fair, it is.

But, my entrance into this role was as shaky as any other new parents’ first months often are:
Worrying if I was doing it right.
Being expected to instantly bond, but it taking time.
Questioning my every-day choices.
Wondering if I was even cut out for it.
Reaching out to empathetic (life-saving) friends for advice.

And like any new parent, with time it has become easier. I know my little boy so well. I adore our slow Saturday mornings, and I just burst with happy to come home from work and see his face. I know his dad is confident of my adoration and intentions, and I am so proud those two are mine.

Still, I’m still not always sure of how I fit in outside the walls of our home.

Are “Moms” groups and Bible studies for me, too? Can I attend a parent-teacher conference if I’m not a decision maker but I am involved and want to help? Can I volunteer for events, or I am I overstepping? Should I help plan a birthday party, or is that the parents’ role? Can I introduce him as my child, or should I say he’s my stepchild?

To be a stepmother is to adore and care, but never to be fully sure if you have a seat at the table. I’ve sure heard endless, conflicting opinions on the matter.

For me, I have to believe that if my stepson knows he’s loved and enjoyed, if my husband is supported, if my stepson’s mother is treated with respect in word and deed, and if I pray to God for wisdom and grace, perhaps I’m doing alright.

I pray to fill this deeply-rewarding, occasionally-awkward role well. And, hopefully, to defy every “wicked stepmother” story, from fairy tales, to Disney movies alike.

I hope to be another adult who simply loves this boy to pieces, to support his growth and needs, to be an advocate in his corner, to offer wisdom gained through a thousand mistakes, and to remain an empathetic ear all his days. I’m so grateful that, in many ways, he is mine. Call it whatever you like.