All Kinds of Mothers by Compilation

Author:Compilation
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Deseret Book Company
Published: 2020-03-30T18:19:45+00:00

I have come to know that we can all,

both men and women, rejoice in the

sacred calling of motherhood. To give birth

is but one part of this sacred calling.

—Ardeth G. Kapp

About three years ago, I asked for a priesthood blessing of comfort during a difficult time. Though I was fully expecting the Lord to speak words of affirmation (which He did), I was not expecting what came next. I was distinctly told by the Spirit that the comfort I sought could be found in building a relationship with someone I desperately did not want to know—my stepchildren’s biological mother.

This?!? This was the road to comfort and peace? I mean, my husband’s ex-wife Nikki was great . . . at a comfortable distance where I could sort of pretend she didn’t exist.

Let me explain. Some other people in my position might tell you that they never imagined they would end up as a stepparent and that it was never part of their plan. But not me. I truly believe that I was divinely prepared to take on this type of mothering. At a young age, I became obsessed with the idea of adoption and always seemed to visualize my future with ten babies who looked nothing like me or my husband, Brad Pitt. I was single well into my thirties and often dated men who had children from previous relationships. I found it easy to fall in love with children I hadn’t borne myself and never felt squeamish at the idea of an insta-family. My longtime obsession with adoption seemed especially merciful when I had a few health issues later in life that curtailed the possibility of bearing children of my own. As compensation, I feel like Heavenly Father made it easy for me to imagine my life as a stepmom. When I met and fell in love with my husband, a huge part of our romance and future revolved around his amazing kids, who were six and eight when we got married. Loving our little insta-family fiercely was the easy part.

What didn’t come easily was sharing. Because I will never have biological children of my own, I pour every ounce of my mothering energy into my two stepchildren. There were strange moments when I found myself resentful of the fact that they were not fully “mine.” I had all kinds of plans for how I would raise my kids from infancy—what I would teach them, how they would view the world, what I would tell them about life. But they had a mom who was already building that sort of familial infrastructure with them. Intellectually, I understood that I hold a special and unique purpose and place in their lives, but I couldn’t help mourning the loss of control that coparenting with another family brings. And though I never expected the kids to ever call me “Mom,” it still stung to hear them correct someone who accidentally referred to me as their mother when we were testing out bunk beds at Ikea.

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