Famous at last!

http://www.startribune.com/218/story/566680.html

Updated December 31, 2006: Story no longer available online.

Personally: Reflections from a young stepmother.
A young mother reflects on what it really means to love.
July 21, 2006

Just four days short of turning 5, Madison asked me a profound question; "Do you love my mom?"

I hesitated, not sure how to answer.

That's because Madison is my stepdaughter. I've known her since she was just shy of 2. I've been part of her day-to-day stuff, the big and the mundane. So, when she asked me if I loved her mom, I had to think a minute. I recalled the moments of anger, frustration, jealousy. The arguments, misunderstandings and miscommunications.

I thought about Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon in the movie, "Stepmom."

Child: "Mommy?"
Mom: "What, sweetie?"
Child: "If you want me to hate her, I will."

But I also thought about the joy that Madison and her brother, Tyler, bring to my life, and to their mother's life; the smiles, the laughter, the jokes exchanged.

Finally, I turned to her and said, "Yes, I do love your mom, because she is your mom."

Their mom and I share a delicate relationship. We are polite, reserved, yet cordial. We step gracefully around each other so as to not offend.

She respects me for loving the kids and helping to raise them. I respect her for being their mom and for "sharing" them with me.

We both have come to an unspoken understanding over time.

I was a young, naive college student when I met my future husband, Jeff. It happened unexpectedly. He was upfront and honest with me. He was divorced with two very young children. I immediately thought, "This is not going to work." But as time went on, I grew to love not only him, but his children, too.

Tyler took to me immediately, excited to have a new "friend." Tyler and I have always had a steady relationship, with normal kid stuff along the way. Madison was more reserved, unsure of whom I was to be in her life. When with her dad and me, she clung to him. When her mom and I were in the same room, she became a chameleon. Already, she had divided loyalties. It was amazing to me that someone this young was trying to figure out, "How do you love both your mom and your stepmom without hurting one or the other?"

Then, in April, our son, Henry, was born. Placed in his bouncy seat, he started to fuss. Madison walked up to him, and asked, "Do you miss your mom?" I immediately walked into the room, not wanting her confusing my newborn son (who I'm sure had full comprehension of the conversation!).

"I am Henry's mom," I said.
"Then, who is his stepmom?"

I told her that Henry would never have a stepmom.

She looked at Henry. "That's too bad, Henry," she said.

I was thankful that, at least for now, she views having a stepmom as a "good thing." I know it won't always be true.

"Someday, I want to go have pizza with you and Dad and Mom and Tyler and Henry. All of us together. Please tell me we can do that someday."

I am not a child psychologist, a therapist, a teacher or a doctor. My experiences are based simply on my own life, a life I never planned. Little girls don't grow up dreaming about getting a ring and an instant family at once. The Cinderella fantasy never involves diaper duty. Or children shuffled from one home to another, sometimes resenting one parent or the other, or both.

But many women are walking down the aisle today into the arms of stepchildren. Some days will be grueling and painful. Many more will be joyful, if they let it be.

When I was pregnant with Henry, I explained to Tyler and Madison that a baby was growing in my tummy. It would be their brother or sister. One week, after returning from their mom's house, Madison proudly told me that she had grown in her mom's tummy. I smiled, glad she understood that. Then she looked at me and said, "I grew in my mom's tummy, but I grew in your heart."

The author is me, a freelance writer who lives in Minnesota.