Becoming a Mom

I don’t know the exact day I became a Mom.

It was gradual. Slow. Kind of like how one day you wake up and realize you’re not a kid anymore. One day I just realized, “Huh. I think I’m some version of a Mom now. Weird. When did that happen?”

I know it happened somewhere in between being “Daddy’s friend” and the day she watched me marry him.

Somewhere between the nights of singing, dancing and giggling and the nights of “YOU’RE NOT MY MOM!!!!! I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU! I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU!”s.

Somewhere between the early, awkward, forced hugs and the familiar grabbing of my hand and clinging to me in public.

Somewhere between keeping each other at an arms length and the taking care of her in the night when she was sick.

Somewhere between the testing and the trusting.

Somewhere between the “Are we a family?” and the traditions.

It wasn’t always easy. I wasn’t used to having a kid around and kids don’t really respect privacy the way my previous roommates had. Sometimes I resented the space and attention she demanded: in my house, in my schedule, in my boyfriend’s heart and mind, in my decision-making, in my future. And sometimes she resented me too. She missed their old house and their time alone together. She didn’t exactly sign up to share her Daddy.

I hated that my boyfriend’s ex would always be a part of his life…and mine. Not because of anything specific about her, I just missed the days where the “ex-factor” was as simple as random encounters in public or a saved love letter. In this relationship, I had to look – and smile – into a human face created out of my boyfriend’s past love. I had to support communication between the two of them, not get mad or jealous about it.

And sometimes that hurt. Sometimes that was really hard.

Loving my future stepdaughter didn’t come naturally either. Getting to know her did. Having fun with her did. Caring about her did. And maybe loving her would have eventually too, I don’t know. What I know is that I made a conscious decision to fall in love with her.

It was a day when it was just the two of us. I was tired and my patience was low, I don’t remember why. I asked her to pick up her room and she proceeded to yell and scream and throw things against the wall. For some reason, that day, it pushed me over an edge. “How dare she talk to me like that! How dare she damage MY HOME! How dare she disrespect me and my things after I welcomed her into my life and space with open arms! HOW FUCKING DARE SHE!”

Unfortunately, and I am not proud to admit this, I said most of those things out loud. In a very mean voice. At the top of my lungs. I was scary. Her eyes were wide and wet with tears….watching me fall apart. She kept crying and crawled up in a ball on her bed as I stormed out.

My heart was pounding and every muscle in my body was tense. When my emotions quieted and my mind came back to my body, I was mortified. And honestly…terrified. How could a child have this affect on me?

Later that week, I had a somewhat hysteric breakdown to my best friend. I questioned everything. Myself, my relationship, my capacity to be any kind of parent to this child or any child ever.

A few days after THAT, I was alone, reflecting on the week and asking myself the tough questions: Is this guy worth all of this? Yes. Am I cut out for it? Maybe. I want to try. Can I open my home and heart to her in the way that she TRULY deserves? Only if I love her.

And so I decided to love her.

Up until that point, I had been trying to gain her favor to gain the favor of her Dad. Now….I was open to her in a different way. My relationship with her became about her and I….not her Dad. I shared things about me and my life with her. I asked different questions and listened with new ears.

It was one of the most important decisions I have ever made. And one of the BEST.

By the time she stood next to me as my Maid of Honor on my wedding day, becoming her stepmom felt like a public stamp: Our relationship was finally being given a title that would convince others of the weight and credibility we already knew it carried.

And I only cherish it more and more as the years go on.

On the other hand, I remember the exact moment I became a MOMMY.

It was distinct. Defined. Impossible to miss or forget. Like most Mommies, I fell in love immediately as the doctors placed her in my arms and I held her for the first time. And like most Mommies, I was terrified as we walked out of the hospital with my new, tiny baby in my arms.

But then I thought of my daughter.

“I know you’re going to be a great Mom because you’re already a great Stepmom to me. You’re just good with kids. This baby will be lucky to have you.” She had said it casually, supportively, as I frantically panicked on a random pregnant day questioning whether I was cut out for being a new Mommy.

She was so sure. So matter of fact.

Her words gave me confidence as I left the hospital that day. They made me calmer. Stronger.

I may still be new to this whole Mommy business……but I became a MOM a long time ago.

And if my daughter believes in me…I must be more capable than I know.