His, Mine, Ours
Will my stepsons feel betrayed if I have a baby?
by Lily Burana
April 12, 2007
As much as I'm excited by the idea of a bringing a baby into our
family, I'm afraid. I don't want to find out that my heart is partisan
— one chamber overflowing with love for my own offspring, the other,
stingy half-measure leftovers for the steps. I read an essay by a
stepmom who'd had a child with her husband, in which her stepkids
were referred to as some roiling, homogenous adolescent rabble, while
her toddler son was "her special little guy." The favoritism was
obvious, and in my stepmother eyes, baldly tacky. I got a pukey taste
in my mouth. "Please," I thought. "Don't let me be a gross 'me-my-mine' mom."
I would hate, too, for my boys to think that a half-sibling would
fracture their father's devotion. Talk to anyone who was shunted
aside when one parent remarried then all but ignored the kids from
the first marriage once they started Family 2.0, and you'll see the
pain of betrayal fairly radiate from their skin. I am loathe to have
any part in such a bad feeling, to make a kid feel like a castaway. Awful.
Still, I have that desire to get to know and raise a child from Day
One, to be someone's unqualified, unblended m-o-t-h-e-r. As much as I
love my boys, I readily accept that they will never love me as much
as they love their own mom. If they did favor me, it would be a weird
victory — Pyrrhic, pathetic. (Should any stepparent make dramatic
insistence on the Number One Love spot in their stepkids' hearts, I
suggest counseling. Possibly euthanasia.) It's confusing, pondering
this swirl of loyalties and longing. If this is how it feels for me
just pondering the notion, how will it feel for them if it moves from
idea to reality? Is it worth the risk?
During a business trip to Baltimore, IThe birth of a child is miraculous, but the birth and growth of a
happy blended family is a miracle all its own. stopped at a Starbucks. In the
seating area was a fifty-something guy with two sons. One was about
twenty, the other a grinning, tow-headed two, dissimilar enough in
appearance for me to think, yep, different moms. The little boy was
in that hilarious always-falling-over stage when every ottoman and
table leg presents a safe port. His big brother was clearly delighted
by his efforts, scooping up his baby brother after every tumble. In
that little coffee shop scene opened a window of possibility.
Somehow, someway, this family was doing it with a measure of success,
so maybe ours could, too.
I guess the key to having both stepchildren and babies is to follow the golden rule of parenting: you give as much as you can, and then, just when
you think you're stretched to the very limit, you give a little more.
The birth of a child is miraculous, but the birth and growth of a
happy blended family is a miracle all its own. I feel blessed that
while I'm not obligated to hold any fondness for my boys, I cherish
them beyond measure. I'm doubly blessed that they don't have to love,
or even like, me, and yet they do. My desire to add more love, and more members,
to our family was predicated by their awesomeness. If I do this right, every kid in my family will suffer no anguish greater than a three-way tie for first place.
©2007 Lily Burana and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Lily Burana is the author of the alt.country romance Try and the memoir Strip City. Her website is lilyburana.com. |
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