More Than Just a Stepmom: I’m the Only ‘Mum’ He Knows

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“Did you know that when Dad and I marry, I’ll be your stepmum?” I caught the basketball he tossed my way and cradled it against my stomach, bending down to meet his gaze, curious about his response. At seven years old, I wasn’t certain what my soon-to-be stepson truly understood. He had been playing wedding games with his toys and seemed excited about the concept, but it can be difficult to read shy children.

“Actually, you’ll be my only mum,” he murmured softly.

I never envisioned myself raising boys. Before I had children, I fervently hoped for daughters. It’s not that I would have been upset with a son, but the thought of managing a high-energy boy frightened me. I pictured myself overwhelmed, constantly sending them outside to burn off energy. I imagined a chaotic house with broken furniture and muddy clothes everywhere. I knew it was an irrational fear, but it lingered. Having grown up with sisters, I felt well-equipped to handle girls. Eventually, I was blessed with two daughters, which eased my worries.

When I began dating my partner a couple of years ago, knowing he had a young son made me anxious. At first, we kept our relationship from his son, wanting to ensure it was serious before introducing the kids. But I suspected he had an inkling; I could feel his sideways glances, as if he was trying to figure out why this unfamiliar woman was spending so much time with him and his dad. I made an effort to give them space for father-son bonding while I adjusted to the idea of potentially being a stepmom. Yet, the longer we were together, the more I wanted to win him over. Despite my initial fears, I started to think that raising boys might not be as intimidating as I had imagined.

To my surprise, my stepson is not the typical loud, rambunctious boy. He’s a thoughtful, quiet child who takes his time to warm up to others. When he finally relaxed around me, I felt privileged. One day at the pool, while my partner and his son were playing and splashing, my stepson swam over and wrapped his little arms around my neck. He whispered, “Let’s push Dad under! Don’t tell him!” His giggle was infectious. I felt my heart swell; he was inviting me into his world. Later, when I shared this with my partner, he beamed and said, “He’s finally accepting you!” After months of getting to know each other, my stepson had decided I was okay.

I often reflect on whether my stepson’s initial wariness stemmed from my role as a mother figure. His birth mother transitioned to a man when he was very young, so he doesn’t remember a time when he had a mother. To him, the concept of a mum is foreign. My partner usually receives the Mother’s Day cards and crafts from school, but last year, none came home. Perhaps the school is realizing that these days can be complicated for some children.

When my stepson said, “You’ll be my only mum,” it struck me. I have no idea how to be a mother to a boy, and he has no real understanding of what a mum is like either. His perceptions are shaped by movies, TV shows, and friends’ mothers—most of whom I’ve yet to meet. Unfortunately, the portrayal of mothers in films is often problematic. My daughters and I have joked about how many movies depict mothers dying early on. “But wait,” we say as a sad scene approaches, “the mother’s going to die.” It’s such a frequent trope that when my youngest was a preschooler, she asked, “When are you going to die, Mummy?” She was convinced that young deaths were a common fate for all mothers. At least mothers are generally shown as kind and loving. If my stepson has seen movies with stepmothers, he might have a drastically different understanding of what a mother is like. Why are stepmothers so often depicted as wicked in films?

A few months ago, after two years of dating, my partner and I tied the knot. My stepson seemed excited, albeit in his understated way. I’ve learned to recognize his subtle cues. I noticed how proud he was to wear his new black “grown-up” shoes, just like his dad’s, and how special he felt being entrusted with the rings. We decided to have just our kids at the front with us. Our daughters were bridesmaids and flower girls, while my stepson stood by his dad’s side, looking dapper in a pinstriped vest and navy tie.

After the ceremony, while everyone enjoyed chocolate cake and mingled, I found my stepson sitting quietly by himself at the front. “You’re my son now,” I said, smiling. “My only son.” He nodded, and I asked, “What does a stepmum do?” I pulled a silly face and joked, “Do I have to kick you and wipe boogers on you?” (He finds humor in butt and booger jokes.) He laughed and shook his head. “No! I do that to you!” he retorted. “No!” I chuckled, sitting beside him. “What do only sons do? Do they make Mother’s Day cards?” “I don’t know,” he replied. “Neither do I,” I said, and we sat together in silence, gazing at the stage.

Three weeks after our wedding, we were having dinner when my stepson piped up, “Oh yeah, I should start calling you your new name.” “What one?” I asked, expecting a silly response. “Mum, of course,” he said. I suppose we’ll figure out together what that truly means for us.

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Summary:

In this heartfelt narrative, a soon-to-be stepmom navigates her feelings about becoming a mother figure to her partner’s son, who has never known traditional motherhood. Through playful moments and deep reflections, she realizes that they are both on a journey of discovery about what it means to be family. Their evolving relationship highlights the complexities of love, acceptance, and the shared experience of learning together.

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More than just a stepmom, motherhood, blended families, parenting, stepmom advice, raising boys, family dynamics, home insemination.