Mothering & Stepmothering

The Children of My Heart

by Nicole Leon-Guerrero

Kate and Max are amazing children. They are the children of my heart and as unique as they come!

I don't mean to say they are perfect, though -- like any children, they have their moments. On any given day, they can jump from wonderful to horrible without warning.

Kate is my girl; the daughter I always knew I would have. She is and always will be my beautiful, brilliant girl. But she came into my life already partially-formed. She struggles with the concept of motherhood -- mine of her, that is -- and at times resents my mothering her. She is moody. She has emotional swings that are impossible to keep up with. She is as stubborn as they come, and, as loving. Kate has a loving heart and a sense of fairness that extends to everyone around her. She is such a fascinating person I marvel how blessed I am to have her in my life.

Then there is Max. Max is hyperkinetic and full of life -- he wants to be going, doing, experiencing life all of the time. He has a thirst for knowledge at odds with his hatred of formal learning born from being failed by the school system over and over. He and I have gone through the wringer and come through victorious. Through the flames of adversity we have forged a mother-son bond, not to be broken. He can get furious in a heartbeat and then within seconds look at you with his big brown eyes that beg for unconditional love: a promise to never leave him and a neediness that is overwhelming at times.

Kate and Max are the center of my heart. I met them six years ago and over the years they have slowly taken over my life -- I have fallen in love with them. Because I love them so absolutely but know I am not their “real� mother, I find my feelings easily hurt. I am constantly wondering who I am to these children.

The answer is not simple, but it defines what it means to be a true mother. I am the woman who knows their favorite foods -- who knows Max hates peppers and Kate hates fish and mushrooms and. . . (the list goes on). I am the woman who listens to their heartbreaks and their joys. I am the one who celebrates their happy moments and who lies awake at night crying over their sorrows. I'm the one who knows where they are at all times and who helps them with their school projects (usually growling as I run to the store the night before to get supplies). I am the one who lectures them about honesty, integrity and, of course, GRADES. In reality I am all the things a mother is to any child, save one: I have no genetic link to Kate and Max.

As a result of this lack of genetic connection I often worry that they are not completely sure of my love for them -– their mother left, so how do they know I won’t? I believe that they reason that the love they have for their “real� mother is unique and special and they know in their hearts that they don’t feel the same for me, so with their childish logic they fear that therefore my love for them is not a mother’s love. It's not true, but it affects our relationship all the same.

The love I have for Kate and Max is a wonderful thing. It has helped me through my infertility and my choice to give birth to future children using a donor egg. Here are these children who have no genetic connection to me and yet I love them with all my heart and soul. No mere genes could alter the soul-bursting adoration I feel for these children. I know that they love me too.

But love, unfortunately, is not the cure-all for life. Our love can’t erase our insecurities; in fact the risk involved in loving completely leaves us so vulnerable that perhaps it exacerbates them. The day-to-day frustrations of life that come out in snapping and bad moods might not cause such gnawing insecurity if we didn’t love each other so much.

The craziest part of being a stepmother is dealing with society’s belief that somehow I am doing Kate and Max this incredible favor by loving them. Loving and raising Kate and Max isn’t what is hard. What is hard is my own insecurity about coming in second to the woman who gave birth to them.

On my good days, though, I remember that she is the one who is really missing out. She was not there for Kate’s first period, or her first boy/girl party. She didn’t get to watch Max grow from a child to a young man. She missed him writing his first story and getting his first "A" in math . She didn't get to see Max becoming a social butterfly or Kate learning who she is inside, and every other "first" that has happened in their lives since she left to live somewhere else.

I get to experience all of it. I get to watch them grow up. I get to share their childhood with them. When I get jealous or my feelings get hurt, I'll try to remember that I get all the real stuff.

I get Kate and Max.

Nicole Leon-Guerrero is a long-time Cafe member who lives in Virginia. She and her husband became custodial parents to Max and Kate in January, 2003. She works as an attorney.

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