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A Letter to My Stepdaughter on the Brink of Motherhood
Dear Lily,
I had two lovely chats with you yesterday, each lasting about half an hour. Both times, you ended our conversations with, “I love you.” Your once-awkward half-hugs have blossomed into warm embraces, and I can’t tell you how much joy that brings me.
Do you remember when you and Grandma crafted those adorable turkey magnets out of faux leaves and straw? Mine has proudly claimed a spot on our fridge all year long. Sure, it’s missing one googly eye, but its felt feet and ribbon bow tie are still intact. On the back, you wrote, “I like you.” That was a big step forward.
I’ve always cared for you, even during those challenging moments when you wouldn’t speak to me, or when you scratched my face out of family photos. Even as you slammed doors and declared, “You’re not my real mom.” Through all the arguments over school and grades, and those sleepless nights when Dad and I worried about where you were, my love for you never wavered. Who would have guessed that an unexpected pregnancy would bring us closer together and fill your life with happiness? It’s been beautiful to witness your growth and the excitement you and your partner share about becoming young parents.
Our recent shopping trip for maternity clothes was by far the best we’ve had. No debates over whether something was too short or too pricey—just pure gratitude and concern for costs.
You often call me to discuss nursing, your doctor’s appointments, and your anxieties about giving birth. Our conversations have become richer, more engaging, and truly meaningful.
You’ve matured remarkably since we first met when you were just 5, full of freckles and sporting crooked teeth, trying to mask your sadness with attitude. Your dad fought hard to bring you to live with us, and your excitement was palpable when we arrived to take you on that five-hour drive to a new city. You were thrilled about the move but not quite as enthusiastic about having me as a stepmom. Honestly, I never pictured myself in that role either. But when I met your amazing dad and saw his beautiful daughter, I knew right away I wanted to create a loving home for you both.
At our wedding, I wanted to commemorate not just our union but the merging of our family. I found the perfect gift—a silver charm bracelet with three hearts, one for each of us. I promised to cherish you in both good times and bad. And oh, how we’ve had our share of both as we navigated our relationship!
I had much to learn, and since there’s no manual for being a stepmom, I relied on what felt right. I thought that by sharing my favorite childhood activities with you, we could bond as mother and daughter. I bought you cherished stories from my own past, each one inscribed with the date and a personal message, starting from our first Christmas together.
But you weren’t interested in cuddling up to read or my cheerful wake-up songs. You rolled your eyes at my jokes and preferred your dad’s tuck-in routines. Still, I continued to say, “Sleep tight, see you in the morning, love you, goodnight.” You never replied, but I kept trying.
During our family vacations and holidays, I picked out special charms for your bracelet that reflected your life at that moment: a scooter, a soccer ball, a sand castle. I organized birthday parties and cheered you on the first time you conquered the monkey bars. I navigated the orthodontist’s office for your braces and brought you to my workplace on “Take Your Daughter to Work Day.” All of these moments were attempts to connect and prove my unwavering support for you.
You and I are quite different; you’re athletic and naturally stunning, while I was always the chubby kid who struggled with sports. But in spite of our differences, you still longed for your mom. I often wondered, why isn’t all this enough? A decorated room, undefeated sports teams, a best friend by your side—what more did you need?
As you step into motherhood, I want you to know that I’m here for you, ready to support you as you navigate this beautiful journey.
With all my love,
Becky