Walt Disney seemed to have no love for mom's. Most classic Disney cartoons either have no mother or mom is a silent backdrop to use for close ups at either the beginning or the end of the movie. Many of them even had the anti-mother: the Wicked Step-Mother.
"Not my real mom."
Or this lovely example.
Well, that's me. I'm a step-mom.
I'm pretty lucky in that while ours is a blended family, we never had a lot of contact with either ex's and functioned much more like a nuclear family. Plus, our kids were all under five when we married and under six when we had one of our own.
Motherhood is a pretty awesome calling. Not everyone who can conceive a child can be a mother. It takes a certain selflessness. You know - mother is the one who takes the thigh and swears that it's her favorite piece of the chicken. And for most of us, falling in love with our children is like breathing. Automatic. Without conscious thought.
But this is for moms who love someone else's kids.
We didn't have nine months to start falling in love with an anticipated bundle of joy. Often, when we come onto the scene, a bond is already strong for that first mother. And sometimes, falling in love with a man does not always mean you will fall in love with his children, as the article linked above demonstrates.
Very early in my career, I read a bit of profound wisdom: God is not going to cut me any slack as a mother just because those four little letters precede my title. God is not going to look down through my life and see messes made and things not said or love not given and say "Well, you were only a step-mother, so that doesn't really count."
Many believe that God is the one who gives us children. I'd have to agree. Sometimes, he gives them to us the traditional way, with stretchmarks and 16 hours of labor. But sometimes, he gives them to us from someone else's womb.
I was blessed to be able to deliver into this world two remarkable sons. They are like me in myriad wonderful and irritating ways. They make me grind my teeth in frustration and beam with pride. I take credit for their successes. I accept blame for their failures.
I was also blessed to raise two daughters who were given birth by another woman. They are like me in myriad wonderful and irritating ways. They make me grind my teeth in frustration and beam with pride. Plus they've given me four wonderful grandchildren. I take credit for their successes. I accept blame for their failures.