But, what does she call you?

"But, what does she call you?", this is often asked out of good will and curiosity. Rarely is it asked out of malice. Yet, it is asked often. Out at the store with my family, usually I have the 2 and 4 year old's in the grocery cart trying to appease their unending level of energy and the task at hand while my husband and the older kids walk and grab what's needed. The 2 year old has yet to conquer the chaos of the store in a manner that doesn't lead to destruction, yelling or frustration. So, I am left trying to entertain,  bribe, and survive while the 4 year old gives the side eye at her brother and seeing how far she can get away with crazy antics since he is. I'm sure it is rather comical to the outsider, or maybe it's annoying to the older generation. But, it is what it is. We run into friend's of my husband often, usually it's everywhere we go in this small town. I walk off trying to tackle the list and the two babies of the family, knowing the 2 year old is a ticking time bomb and as I walk off I usually hear the conversation turn to our blended family. By the time I return I hear whispers of how well adjusted the kids are and the end of a question asking, "But, what does she call her?". 

They are referring to me and what my husband's youngest daughter uses for me. This isn't a question ever asked for the older kids. Quite frankly, it boggles my mind how this is the question people ask. It isn't, "Is she a fair stepmom?" or "Is your daughter treated well by your wife", or "how does your family handle this or that". Nope, it is pure and unadulterated curiosity about what title my bonus daughter has bestowed upon me. More often than naught my husband is blunt and straight forward. He lets people know I've been around since D was 6 months old and she doesn't remember a life without me, that she calls me mama. This makes me insanely uncomfortable for various reasons. But, he is calm, clear and honest. "Her mom designated her as Mama J, D chose to call her Mama after that." I want to make excuses because somehow this question makes me feel as if others think there is more to this than there is. She has been around since infancy, she's listened to all the other younger kids call me mom and mama. I'm not trying to replace her mom and I didn't make her do this. And then, I stop myself. 

Society has deemed my discomfort be the appropriate response. Society has shone a light on the judgment I feel. And why? Is she loved? Yes, dearly and deeply. Do I replace her mother, no never, ever, ever. Did I pressure her to identify me in any particular way? Nope, until about a month ago we referred to me by my name and when it started causing confusion for our 2 year old we finally dropped it. D had chosen what she called me long before that. As step-parents we are judged carefully and harshly, especially as mothers. Our society has stopped teaching our children we can have too much love and begun telling them possession is love and to only let a select few love us. As step-mothers we either are women trying to make the mother's life hell and overstepping our boundaries or we are harlots stealing women away from the mother of said children and refusing to contribute a penny to them. I am neither of those things because I grew up with a blended family and at the end of the day I learned any distance, boundaries, and harshness I felt towards this child's mother would result in the eventual heart wounds of a vulnerable girl who didn't ask to be in the midst of any of this. I realized my sole purpose was not to become her mother, or raise her the way I wanted. My role was to just love her and accept her. 

This has been one hell of a journey, trust me. I spent many a night crying over never being able to have a girl with my husband after my hysterectomy. I was bitter, I was sad, I was resentful. I was mourning and grieving so many things tied into that one thought that really were a dozen other heartpains. Then I put on my big girl panties and realized . . . God had given me a girl. Maybe she doesn't have my DNA and maybe she wasn't grown under my heart. Maybe she has her mother's beautiful blue eyes and not my own dark hair. Maybe I only get her half the time. I'll never know what a girl from mine and my husband's genes would look like, act like, or be. But He still gave us a girl, one to share. One to love. One to honor. One that is no less than a daughter we would have had between our DNA, between our families, made from our love. She doesn't replace anyone because she was in her own right, before I came along. And so, I fell in love with her for exactly what she is. For who she is and who she is becoming daily amidst the struggles and reality of a life of a child going between two homes and loved immensely by ALL of us. 

And so, so calls me Mama. A name I pride and cherish because she chose me. She fell in love with me, much like I have with her. Because her and I share a relationship of choice not one deemed by fate. At any time the other could walk away or choose not to love the other, but we've chosen to be fully in. She loves like her father - deeply, vulnerably, without fear while trusting the other person at face value. A gift I know a child of ours may not have possessed and it makes me thankful because God know's what He is doing. It may not be how me or my husband or D's mother intended for any of this. But there is one little girl loved deeply and fully by more people than I ever was loved by and loved for herself as she is without retribution of who she was born of or without needing to replace anyone. I grew up with a different reality and I work daily to offer her that unconditional love that only a parent can hold for a child, it isn't the same but it is a willful love. One that is intentional and purposeful. I hope one day she can say she was loved by all 3 of her parents and know that I am the one blessed by what she chose to see in me, who she demanded me to be, and how blessed I am to be in her life. 

What she calls me doesn't matter. What she refers to me doesn't diminish anyone or anything. It only enriches HER life. I'm ever so grateful for the lesson God shared in this and how he has opened my eyes. I pray to always meet the needs and expectations of this sweet, beautiful girl I am blessed to love and help raise. What she calls me doesn't matter at the end of the day, it's how she opens her heart to me and how she settles into the crook of my arm and looks up to me while asking me to sing her to sleep. It's how she walks into this home knowing it is hers and that she is held by the same accountability and loved by the same love as her siblings, regardless of the amount of blood she does or does not share with them. It is her contentment when she walks in the door and says loudly, "I'm HOME!". She doesn't feel as if she is less then, she doesn't feel as if she is missing out on anything, she doesn't feel different. She calls me a name that is just a name to her, because at the end of the day she is 4 and has no idea the gravity or weight we put into names and picking sides and divorce and custody and all that ensues with those worlds. To her, she is just a girl who will see her mom in a few days and is coming to her other home to spend time with her dad and other mama. Tomorrow if she decided to call me by my name, I'd be fine with that too. She taught me a lesson that I hold onto now for my kids with my ex as well. It isn't about the titles or the names, it's about love and if each of our kids are loved deeply without judgment or resentment, each of them can become their fullest selves free from fear of the definition of a name or title. They will be enough just as they are. And that, that should be enough always. It doesn't matter what others call you, it matters that you love yourself. And I pray each of our children love themselves enough to just simply, completely love.