“You are not her mother. You’ll never be anything more than a glorified babysitter.”
Those were the first words I ever got from my stepdaughter’s mom sent in a MySpace message, because MySpace existed back then. I had not even met her or my now-stepdaughter yet. I had only been seeing my now-husband for a few months at that point.
That message was the surprise start of our blended family’s journey two daughters from my first marriage and one from his. When I met my husband, my girls were six and three, and his little girl was one. Today, they’re 21, 18, and 16.
When we met, we were both lost. I was rebounding from a bruising marriage to an abusive alcoholic, and he was a young man searching for a path after years of living life without direction. In some way, our paths converged at the perfect time. We were wed within a year.
We didn’t realize it at the time, but the peace that we had in each other’s lives would be the strength we’d need to withstand the storm that lay ahead. We were soon to encounter years of emotional turmoil, battles in the courts of law, and conflict things that might have easily shattered us apart if not for love and our faith.
Shortly after we were married, my husband’s former wife relocated a great distance away with their daughter in defiance of court orders. She was convinced he would not take the drive to visit his child. But he did, every weekend without fail, even during snowstorms. She would drop their daughter off with lunch and letters that stated, “She’s not permitted to eat Jana’s cooking.” That was the level of pettiness with which we routinely coped.
Meanwhile, my then-husband relocated from 1,500 miles away to our community after we were married because, he said, he didn’t want to be “replaced as a dad.” His emotional instability and alcohol use made living hard. He was charged in a matter of weeks with a DUI hit and run. It was during this time that we learned two valuable lessons: healthy boundaries make unhealthy people nuts and that my husband and I could tackle anything together.
Both the custody fights were vicious. My husband’s ex was forbidden from calling us directly and was only able to communicate through a court-appointed coordinator after a night of calling him fourteen times in a ten-minute period. All the voicemails that we received were burned to CDs for the judge to listen to because the truth sounded too crazy to be believed otherwise.
Then, one holiday Christmas, I had every mother’s worst fear come true. My ex took our girls to visit and texted me a message stating, “I’m not returning them. You’ll never see them again.” My heart froze. It required five terror-filled days, constant phone calls, and an emergency court order to get my daughters home in one piece.
Over time, court decisions stabilized things. My stepdaughter began spending more time with us, and my girls had limited visits with their father. Yet the comments from my husband’s ex never stopped she said I’d always just be a babysitter and that my daughters would never be sisters to hers. But in our hearts, they already were.
We chose not to have another baby, instead showering all of our time and energy on the girls we already had. There was some jealousy, some insecurity, some exhaustion along the way, but we just kept showing up for each other. My husband would remind me, “You are the best thing that ever happened to her.”
Years afterward, my former husband went out of our lives after another alcohol-impaired driving accident left him disabled for life. My husband and I attempted to finalize the adoption of my daughters, but the court denied our request. Nevertheless, he was their true father in all ways that count.
As our daughters grew into young women, they found their own voices. My stepdaughter eventually chose to live with us full-time, finding stability and peace under our roof. Now, when people meet our family, they don’t realize we’re blended. The love between us feels natural, not labeled.
When my youngest became 18, my girls requested that my husband formally adopt them as adults. And when I asked my stepdaughter which she would like me to present her as stepdaughter or daughter she smiled and said, “Daughter.”
That said it all. We’re not perfect, but we are real. We’ve ridden out the storms, nursed the wounds, and discovered that love doesn’t flow from bloodlines it’s constructed through time, tears, and unshakeable faith. And my husband and I? After all these years, we’re still crazy in love truly, madly, deeply.
