I never thought I’d be a mom and being a stepmom was definitely something that never entered my mind. Then, I met my husband and here comes the chubby, blonde headed boy into my life.
He had a mom. He called her mom and he called me Amanda. There were people who would question how I...interacted with him. Did I act like “mom?” Was I tougher on him? Did I cut him slack? Did I ever feel like this or like that? Or would say things like, “When you have kids of your own, you’ll understand.”
What did I feel? It was easy. I loved his dad and I loved him. From the start I never looked at him like he wasn’t mine. I did have a kid of my own. It’s him.
This brings me back to the “I”, the letter I’m supposed to be focusing on. There is an image, a picture that touches my heart. It was taken a few years back, but it is one that I will never forget as long as I live. I get emotional just thinking about it.
In that image, I saw how he saw me. I see it when we’re watching Doctor Who together or talking about our favorite books, when I make his favorite meal, or give him a kiss before bed. No, I didn’t carry him or give birth to him, but he is mine.