So, is this your first baby?!

I’ve recently been posed with this question a lot, and I am still not exactly sure on the appropriate way to answer it.

 I have been with Chris since about the time Dannika turned two and quickly became involved in her life. Over the past two years I have taught her colors, the alphabet, and countless songs.  I have helped her learn to count, tie her shoes, and zip up her coat. I provide her health insurance, have taken her to the doctor when she was sick, and comforted her during illness. I have fed her, bathed her, and clothed her. I have worn the badges of motherhood—poop, pee, and sneeze/booger at various times during our relationship. I have encouraged and I have disciplined. I have played with and I have taught responsibility. 

Do I consider myself a new mom? No. 

Is this my first baby? Yes.

Right now, I know more about potty training than I do breastfeeding and more about getting a fussy preschooler to stay in her bed than I do about getting a fussy baby to go to sleep. But I don’t think I would have spent half my night playing alphabet games, watching Caillou, and eating Spaghettios if I weren’t a mom.

 Being a stepmother before you become a mother is a very curious thing.  You suddenly have the responsibilities of a mother, but with little recognition. Naturally, people are skeptical of you. You are reading parenting books, researching preschools, worrying for your child, and providing for your child. But most people don’t see that. They know you haven’t had a child. You lack something. I don’t say this for sympathy, but to rather explain my position.  I agree. Stepmothers do lack something. But how much?

It may surprise you to know that one of my biggest fears is that my new baby will take away my attention from Dannika. I feel that as a stepmom I have to work extra hard to form a bond between us. I have worked hard to form such a strong and trusting relationship with my daughter—I don’t want that to go away. I want her to feel safe and loved by me in her home. In our home.

But I am not a fool. I am not naïve. I know it will be easier with my baby. I know that my baby will love me more than Dannika ever will—no matter what I do. And it is likely that I will feel the reciprocal, no matter how guilty that makes me feel. No matter how much I try to avoid it.

So what do I do? I pray. A lot. I pray that Dannika will know how loved she is by me. I pray that she will always feel comfortable and safe in our home. I pray that God will show me was to incorporate Dannika into Poppy’s care. I pray that I won’t feel guilty taking care of Poppy instead of Dannika. I pray that I won’t feel guilty taking care of Dannika instead of Poppy.  I pray for balance. For sanity.

I pray for peace.