When James and I were first trying to conceive, I was a bundle of nerves, crying at every turn, especially when getting pregnant didn’t go how I had (meticulously) planned it. We stopped using contraception and proceeded to “try” for the next year. When about 14 months had passed and I still wasn’t pregnant at the time of my next gynecologist appointment, I asked what we should do. She referred us to a few fertility specialists in the area. I was devastated. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. We had been so careful to make sure we didn’t get pregnant before we were ready, I hadn’t considered it might be a challenge once we were ready.

Despite fertility treatments becoming more and more common and hearing extended family members’ stories, I felt ashamed about my inability to conceive.  I had been open with friends about wanting to start a family, but now that we were possibly not going to be able to, I shut down. I stopped talking with my family as often. Whenever friends asked how it was going, I brushed it off with a “hasn’t happened yet…” and changed the subject. It took six months before I was finally ready to pick up the phone and schedule an appointment with the specialist. It was another month before they could fit us in as a new patient.  We were finally ready to take action and we jumped in with some initial testing before two failed rounds of IUI.

Our infertility wasn’t fully explained, but the test results and failed IUIs were enough for our doctor to recommend and our insurance to support moving on to IVF. We were so incredibly lucky. Despite the heartache of the two prior years and the misery of hope, month after month, our first IVF cycle resulted in three healthy embryos. Transferring our first one resulted in implantation, pregnancy, and finally the birth of our daughter. Then, 18 months later, we were ready to do it all over again with a second embryo transfer, in hopes of another child to join our family.

There was such a relief in starting this process a second time since it worked for us the first time. I know there are no guarantees that it will work the second time around or even the third, but since we were able to have Louise, I know it’s possible. I empathize with all families who continue to struggle to conceive. We were lucky our pain of not being able to conceive only lasted a year or two, but the worry that it wouldn’t work the next time still lives on.  Despite that strain, I’m more optimistic than before about our hopes to create the family we want.

Six Months Later

It’s ironic to read back the first half of this post having drafted it months apart. I was full of optimism for our future and a new hope to move on from the struggles of infertility. We underwent a frozen embryo transfer several months ago and the long story short is that it didn’t take. We’re not expecting. After an update consultation with the same doctor who helped us have Louise, we followed a very similar protocol of medication, tests, and timing leading up to the transfer. A week into the 10-day wait to find out if it worked, I turned to James that evening and told him I didn’t think it had worked. Call it women’s intuition; call it a 50-50 guess that turned out to be right, but I just knew it wasn’t happening that time. Unfortunately, that didn’t ease the knot tightening in my stomach when the doctor finally did call to confirm the result.

That night and the days that followed, I cried just as hard as when it didn’t take with the IUIs or naturally. But I didn’t cry as long. I am constantly reminded by Louise’s infectious laughter that it has worked once. We will hopefully be fortunate again. It may work next time. It may not. In accepting the grief that comes from each failed attempt, I’m better able to pick myself up and move forward. I am present with family and friends, pursuing other passions, all while acknowledging the tiny ball of hope in the back of my brain saying it will work again one day.

 

This post originally appeared on Happy Optimizing.

Hi!  I’m Lauren, a recent convert from professional career-woman to stay-at-home mom and wife.

Why waste time on the mundane if it can be done more efficiently and you can get back to the fun parts of life? I hope these posts help you save time and money.

Happy Optimizing! 

If you’ve attended a childbirth class or talked with a brand-new mom, there are plenty of things you’ve undoubtedly heard about—from pain-control options (hello, epidurals!) to that sweet moment you first hold your baby—but you might be surprised to learn there are details about giving birth no one seems to talk about. Keep reading as we shine a light on ten of those rarely discussed labor and delivery secrets.

iStock

1. Anyone may deliver your baby.
Okay, not literally anyone…unless, of course, you have a side-of-the-highway baby. (Quick! Knock on wood.) But keep in mind that your OB or midwife may not be the person to deliver your baby. Because of how doctors and midwives schedule their shifts, it’s possible that someone you have never met may be on call on D-Day. Rest assured, you’re in good hands, and though it may seem hard to believe now, when you get to that stage of labor, you won’t care who delivers your baby.

2. Your birth plan may take a turn.
When you’re expecting your first baby or two, you may head to the hospital with a birth plan in hand, typed clearly and concisely in 12-point font detailing all of your wishes for the birth. But don’t be surprised if at some point in your labor, all of those “musts” seem to fade into oblivion and are replaced in bold font, all caps with GET THIS BABY OUT.

3. Total strangers seeing you totally naked will seem totally normal.
Unless your past includes time spent in a nudist colony or you have a special affinity for skinny-dipping, chances are the thought of being bare-butt naked in front of strangers probably makes your toes curl. But when the transition phase of labor hits, we can all but guarantee you’ll throw caution—and your hospital gown—to the wind. If the thought is discomfiting, take heart: Baby will be in a birthday suit, too, so at least you’ll be in good company.

iStock

4. You have an alter ego.
When your labor amps up, you may find you have a hidden drama queen or foul-mouthed sailor living inside of you. You might make animal noises so impressive you would put a drama student in a performance of the Lion King to shame. (Yes, growling or even roaring like a ferocious animal happens in the delivery room.) Or, you might find that you suddenly have a new and expanded vocabulary not fit for tiny ears. (Don’t worry, baby is well-insulated in the birth canal.)

5. The nurses may ask if you want a mirror.
And, they aren’t wondering if you want to check your makeup. In the middle of the most dramatic, life-changing (not to mention painful) moment of your life, a nurse could ask if you would like a mirror to see baby crowning. Some women do; some women really don't. You do you.

6. Everyone poops.
Especially moms in labor. While you may feel nonplussed at the thought now, it’s actually a good thing! It means you’re using the right muscles to push that baby out into the world. In the moment, it won’t even register on your embarrassment radar, and your childbirth team have seen it all before.

iStock

7. You go through delivery twice.
We’re not talking about twins! If you’ve ever sat through a childbirth video, you know it typically ends a few moments after baby enters the world. So what you don’t see (and your OB or midwife may never mention prior to delivery) is that you will have a baby-size, liver-like organ come out of you within an hour of your little one making his or her entrance into the world. But don’t worry, though mildly uncomfortable, the placenta-expelling process only lasts a minute or two. (Also, be prepared for the nurses to ask if you would like the save the nutrient-rich organ. Post-hospital placenta smoothie, anyone?)

8. You don’t leave the hospital wearing your own underwear.
We’ve all seen those photos of a celebrity walking out of the hospital after giving birth, holding a newborn baby and sporting perfectly coiffed hair and heels. (Kate Middleton, we’re looking at you!) It’s easy to forget that underneath that glam exterior is sure to be…mesh, boy-short-style underwear. Yep, it’s true. The reason? You will likely bleed for weeks after delivery. Mesh panties, giant maxi pads and postpartum cold packs, also known as “padsicles,” will become your new BFFs. And, while you may have heard about the possibility of going period-free for a while after giving birth, keep in mind you could get your period as soon as four weeks post-partum.

9. How quickly you may (or may not) forget.
People like to say that you quickly “forget all the pain” once baby arrives. For those who don’t experience that euphoric selective amnesia, the events surrounding your labor and delivery, particularly if complicated, may stay fresh in your mind for months or even years after. That clear recollection can trigger a sort of PTSD (not to be confused with postpartum depression) that includes emotional distress, flashbacks and even physical responses, like sweating, nausea or trembling. Apparently, birth is the one time a forgetful memory is a positive thing!

10. Everyone bonds differently.
The first moment you hold your baby may be forever etched in your memory. Or, it may be a blur. You may be instantly overcome with love for your baby, or it may take time to develop a connection with this new human being. There is no right or wrong way to experience motherhood. Every baby is different. Every mama is different. And how you experience each other for the first time through labor, delivery and those first moments of your new life together will be, too. 

—Suzanna Palmer

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What happens when you physically can’t be in two places at once? And, all of a sudden, you’re relying on someone else to pick up the slack, the slack you dropped, regardless of what circumstance caused you to drop it. Then, imagine that the person you have to depend on is (a) someone you hadn’t counted on in a long time and (b) someone you certainly wouldn’t want to know you needed help.

On a snowy day soon after my divorce, that’s what happened, and, for the first time, I got a taste of what being a divorced single parent was all about. Despite being newly free from a marriage that brought me pain and dragged me down, I hadn’t counted on the rush of emotions I would experience after missing something as simple as a 20-minute parent-teacher conference.

And, damn it, I deserved that romantic getaway, too! It was my off-weekend or, as I like to call it, divorce’s silver lining. I had recently started dating a man, someone I liked very much. I was living in Minnesota, co-parenting with my ex-husband nearby. The man I was seeing, however, lived in Seattle. So the night before Thanksgiving, I dropped the kids off at my ex’s and got on a plane to the West Coast to spend some time together.

I scheduled myself to fly back to Minnesota on Sunday, right in time for my daughter’s sophomore parent-teacher conferences on Monday. Up until that point, I had never missed a parent-teacher conference for any of our four kids. But as I sat at the Seattle airport looking at unseasonal snow everywhere, I realized there was a first time for everything. I was beside myself with guilt.

Reluctantly, I called my ex-husband and told him that I would need him to attend the conference. He had only gone to a few such conferences over the years, but I knew he’d be fine. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same sense of confidence I did. Believing he needed a cheat sheet, he instructed our 15-year-old daughter to write a paragraph about each class.

She was horrified. How could her dad ask her to do homework when she already had so much, and only so he could attend her parent-teacher conference? It was ludicrous. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I think I did both, along with our daughter, although for different reasons. Could my missing something as basic as a parent-teacher conference cause such pain to all of us?

Our daughter did the “assignment” and then blamed me. After all, if I hadn’t brought this new man into my life, which meant into our family, I wouldn’t have fallen short on missing yet another important “Mom” thing. She was right. But she was also wrong because I knew in my head that as a single woman, I should have the chance to find a partner I would be happy with and want to share my life with one day. Either way, it didn’t stop my heart from hurting. Because of my trip, my so-called selfishness, I was the one who failed. I was sick with guilt.

As for the conference, my ex-husband passed with flying colors. He heard all about our daughter’s classes, how she was doing, and what areas she needed to work on throughout the school year. He relayed the information to me, and although I felt guilty that I missed hearing the information firsthand and that my ex punished our daughter because I wasn’t there to listen to it directly, I felt relieved.

Even in my absence, the sun still came up the next day, my ex-husband survived the ordeal, and our daughter eventually forgave me. I knew then I wasn’t the only one who had to be in a certain place at a certain time or do everything with and for my kids just because my title was “Mom.” With that one missed flight and one missed conference, I was liberated from all of the pressure I put on myself. It was life-changing—for the better, for all of us as a family, including my ex-husband.

Years later, when my new husband (the same guy I was visiting in Seattle) and I were traveling and both unable to attend my son’s sixth-grade parent-teacher conference, my husband’s daughter, a recent college grad, was up for the challenge. She went on mine and my son’s father’s behalf, as he still lived back in Minnesota and was unable to come. (He later moved to Seattle, too, to avoid missing such moments.)

Everyone at the school commented about how “cool” it was that my son’s older step-sister came to the conference, how many insightful questions she asked, and how supportive she was of him and his learning. And she did it all without making her stepbrother do extra homework, sending my newly blended family straight to the head of the class.

Elise Buie, Esq. is a Seattle-based family and divorce lawyer and founder of ​Elise Buie Family Law Group​. A champion for maintaining civility throughout the divorce process, Elise advocates for her clients and the best interests of their children, helping them move forward with dignity and strength.

Photo: istock

It’s been over a week since the murder of George Floyd. Are you tired? I’ve seen a lot of you say that the weight of the nation is exhausting right now—the anger, the sadness, the confusion, the constant news updates. The fear that you’re going to say or do something wrong sits heavy on your chest. I ask you to sit with that weight, that exhaustion, that vulnerability. It’s so important to do so now more than ever. Why? Because that’s the weight that our black community has been carrying alone for decades. It’s time to carry that burden with them.

The way that you’re questioning every move you make, every word you say, is what POC have to do every day. Those little things build up. Do you text your friend the night before a job interview to ask them if you should straighten your hair because you’re afraid you won’t get the job if you wear it natural? Do you hide your bottle of water before you walk into a store because you’re afraid they’ll think you stole it? Have you ever had to talk to your kids about what to do if they ever get arrested? And those are just the small, everyday things. But they build up.

I’m probably in the minority when I say this, but now is the time for uplifting, hopeful messages. I’m seeing a lot of you say, “We need some goodness in our lives right now.” And while it’s good for everyone’s mental health to carve out some moments of peace for yourself, so that you can smile even just for a second, it’s important that we sit in the hurt, discomfort, and overwhelm right now. Why? Because if we don’t, then this fire that we all feel right now is just going to burn out. We’re going to go back to our everyday lives after a few days of posting meaningful quotes and this will just be another protest that goes nowhere. We owe it to the black community to feel uncomfortable right now.

So I encourage you to spend some time in the dark. In the hurt. In the pain. In the confusion. In the sadness. In the anger.

Natalie Fuertes is the owner of Industry Gymnastics, a gymnastics facility in NYC that focuses on creating a space that is welcoming to all children, regardless of race, gender identity, or sexual-orientation. She is a proud Nuyorican, racial justice advocate, wife, and mama of two. 

Someone’s cutting onions! Kevin Hart’s newest movie finds him as widowed new dad navigating life with a baby girl. Based on a true story, Fatherhood is fittingly set to premiere over Father’s Day weekend, June 18 on Netflix.

The official trailer dropped this week and Hart took to Instagram today to express his excitement about the film. “Can’t wait for y’all to see how special this one is. You guys are going to love it!!!!” he wrote, accompanied by a short movie clip.

President Barack Obama and Michelle Obama’s production company, Higher Ground Productions, will present the film along with Netflix and Sony. Fatherhood is directed by Paul Weitz (About a Boy) and also stars Academy Award nominee Alfre Woodard and Emmy Award nominee Anthony Carrigan. It’s based on the book Two Kisses From Maddie: A Story of Loss and Love by Matthew Logelin.

Dads are special and this Father’s Day weekend you can bond together over the beauty and pain of Fatherhood. Save the date and add this one to your Netflix queue!

—Sarah Shebek

Featured image courtesy of  DFree / Shutterstock.com

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Sometimes you just have to love your way through.

My son is 16. He is semi-verbal on the autism spectrum. He was diagnosed as severe. Sometimes he can speak a little. Sometimes he can’t. Sometimes he has good days. Sometimes he does not. There are hopeful moments. Like this year he is starting to trace letters for the first time ever! A huge milestone. We celebrate those achievements.

Once in a while, I send him messages from my phone and he sends me a sweet word back. Other times there’s silence. We are grateful for the times he has some language.

Sometimes it’s hard, like really hard, the hardest of hards and it hurts my heart and makes it so heavy. I worry for the future when we’re gone. Who will take over? Who will love him as much as I do but be able to bear this all too? Sometimes it’s confusing. Like when he cries and we don’t know why. Is he in pain? Is he sick? Is he just sad? He can’t tell us. We just guess and love our way through it all.

Sometimes he seems so capable and we’re like, ‘We got this! It’s not so hard after all!’ Then he has regressions. We watch as he slowly loses a skill that he worked so incredibly hard at. It just slips away. Sometimes it comes back. Other times we have to start from square one.

We change bedding almost every day. Sometimes, we need to change clothes during the day too. Sixteen years in. You can’t really call it ‘potty training’ anymore can you? It’s not about the laundry. It’s the setbacks after working so hard to overcome obstacles and difficulties. It’s feeling like you finally made it out of the baby stages only to go back again. It’s the regressions without explanations or reasons. It’s the constant ‘why’ without answers. It’s the starting over again and again. It’s going backward when everyone else seems to be going forward. Sometimes it’s everything at once. Beautiful, heartbreaking, hard work, celebrations, hitting milestones, regressions, starting over. It’s a constant roller coaster of emotions. But the one constant that will never change is our enormous love. A love so strong it carries us through.

This post originally appeared on https://www.facebook.com/theautismride.
Feature image via iStock

Hi! My name is Laura and I'm a mom of two beautiful kids in Vancouver, Canada. I write a blog on Facebook called The Autism Ride, all about the ups and downs in life with our teenaged son on the spectrum.

Editor’s Note: Here at Red Tricycle, we respect and celebrate every mom’s feeding journey. Bottle? Boob? It doesn’t matter—we believe fed is best. Our Spoke Contributor Network is inclusive and open to all parenting journeys—yours, too!

This really is quite a big question and one that does divide those that work with people who breastfeed. Should we do an assessment before or after the baby is born? Once they’ve got an issue or beforehand to prepare them? Personally, I think it’s best to be prepared as new motherhood can be such an overwhelming time so let’s minimize some of that worry but there are others who feel that breastfeeding support should be given as needed.

Before the Baby Is Here

If you wonder/worry about any of the following:

  • PCOS: Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome can result in lowered milk production so you can struggle to begin with.  The good news is that your milk supply will increase the more babies you have but it’s still worth getting information on how to manage.
  • Previous breast surgery: Whether it’s due to a medical issue or cosmetic surgery, medical interventions can result in damage to the delicate tissues contained within so again it’s good to get some resources ready so you can spot any potential issues.
  • IVF: Now it all depends on why you had it and to be honest there isn’t a whole heap of research on this but it is believed that it can cause issues with breastfeeding for some—so again be prepared!
  • If you’re worried you just can’t: Now a lot of babies (the vast majority in all honesty!) will latch with no issues and minimal intervention but again it’s worth having a chat with a professional who can give you lots of little tips to avoid you stressing when you don’t need to. C-section, induction, vaginal birth, medication in labor can all have an impact. Flat nipples, small nipples. inverted, big, uneven nipple size, big breasts, small breasts, one side bigger than the other—we’ve seen them all (it’s our job!) and we are trained to advise you on how to feed your baby.
  • Do you need all that stuff that comes with breastfeeding? Do you really need a pump? Manual, electric, silicone, one you wear, a double or single—which one will work best for you? A pillow? Shields or shells? Isn’t a Hakka something they do in New Zealand? Confused as you just thought you needed your boobs and a baby? Then ask a breastfeeding counselor!

After the Baby Is Here 

If you have any of the following:

  • Pain: Honestly I cannot stress enough—pain in breastfeeding indicates a problem and needs to be addressed. You should not suffer when you feed your child. It doesn’t matter where that pain is in your breast or nipple or stomach or neck and shoulders, having discomfort indicates an issue somewhere. If your emotions are being impacted by your feeding choices/routine that is considered pain as well—ask for help.
  • Questions: So you’ve had the baby and received brilliant help from the breastfeeding counselor in the hospital however you still have lots of questions and she has lots of other patients to see. A one-on-one session with a breastfeeding counselor will give you the time to fire away all those little ‘does this look right to you?’ worries.
  • If you are worried about supply: Not producing much when you pump? Does the baby seem to feed a lot? Breasts suddenly don’t seem as full? Will one bottle of formula a day make a difference? All of these are questions that breastfeeding counselors are trained to answer and can reassure you as we are trained to get to know you first before making any comments.
  • If you have concerns: How often should your baby poo? How will you know that they are full? How will you know that they are hungry? How will you know if they’re full? Feed on demand or to a schedule? Should their poo look like that? Why do they want to eat all the time? Your sister says that [….] shouldn’t happen—is she right? Are you going to spoil your baby by doing too much skin-to-skin? You know what I’m going to say about this don’t you?
  • If you want to stop: It is believed that our ancestors may have breastfed their young until the age of 7. The natural age of weaning is thought to be between 2 and 4 years of age. Now there are a whole host of reasons why we want to stop breastfeeding and seeing a breastfeeding counselor can make sure that you are doing it in a safe way as sudden cessation could result in mastitis, engorgement, and other complications for you.

But does seeing a breastfeeding counselor actually make any difference? In a study in 2019, participants in a breastfeeding support program were “on average 66% less risk of cessation of any breastfeeding and on average 54% less risk of cessation of exclusive breastfeeding at any point in time.” A significant decrease in women still breastfeeding after ten days postpartum was noticed if they did not receive support is shown in a study from 2015.

The facts are that getting breastfeeding support doesn’t mean you’ve failed or you’re not doing it right—it just means that you want to do it well or better. You shouldn’t be judged for asking a question (believe me I’ve been on the receiving end of judgmental breastfeeding support and that was one of the main reasons my oldest was formula fed!) Seeing someone trained in breastfeeding means you will get support and understanding, from a person who can acknowledge how important, frustrating and wonderful this journey is.

This post originally appeared on Bahbabelle.net.

I'm certified as a doula, breastfeeding counselor and Lamaze childbirth educator.  I'm British, living in Bahrain in the Middle East for the last 14 years. I have three daughters and I just want to show them that it doesn't matter your age, dreams can be followed. 

Photo: Cody Speaks

I think back to how we got here and how great Cody is doing and it’s hard to remember the really hard times. The passage of time lessens that pain and for that I am grateful. I do remember for so long I just got up day after day putting one foot in front of the other just doing but not really understanding where we were going or if it truly will get better. Just in survival mode really.

As I sit here thinking how far we’ve all come and how we’re all still together loving each other and still learning from one another I am grateful. I used to pray every night the same prayer to simply make everything better—to simply make my son better. I was bartering with God that I would give absolutely anything to help my son money, health, my life—anything! I would scream this over and over.

Instead, I was given insight, patience, wisdom and perception of better understanding. I now know that’s what I should have been praying for all along.

I am grateful for so many things.

I am grateful I haven’t lost my mind.

I am grateful I learned how to connect with my son.

I am grateful I now know this different life can be amazing and I’m in no way saying it’s easy but whose life is easy anyway?

I guarantee every single person has that “something”—their own struggle. I count my blessings every night when I’m struggling with anything whether it’s a thought or circumstance—still I count them. If I went back in time and could have looked into my future I don’t think I would have believed how far I would come or how far Cody would come. I was sure I wouldn’t make it but I have. We all have.

Our family has been through so much in this journey and if you’re living this you completely understand. Learning how to navigate the world when things are different and learning what to be grateful for. Cody is now able to tolerate shopping and even window shopping. I remember when he was little the screaming—the tantrums—the floppy drops—the running and just how exhausting it was and how every single time we went out it was the same as the time before, never seeming to get any better.

I’m telling you it can change and it has changed. But I am also telling you it has not been by accident this has happened or by some miracle. It has simply been for the sheer fact that we have worked so very hard to achieve these things. Think of it this way: If you were never taught how to act or practiced better behavior or given the tools when you needed them where would you be? We all need tools and coping strategies and to be taught how to navigate the world and simply to be great examples. Study and learn and be that great example and figure out how best to relate to others that perceive the world differently. Try to see from a different view and maybe just maybe you’ll have a better understanding. Most of all love all no matter what differences and be grateful we can learn from one another.

 

feature image via iStock

I am a parent to a son who is diagnosed with nonverbal severe autism with ID. I share our journey on facebook Cody Speaks. Cody has come farther than we were ever told. We were told to institutionalize him he would never learn. He learns every day and speaks.

Our daughter is 3 years old and was just recently diagnosed with autism.

This came with so many emotions, but the one I felt the most was peace. Finally, we knew. We were finally out of the unknown and we could move forward! It’s like I had a backpack on, and someone took out a bunch of rocks. I felt free. It was empowering. But, the road before her diagnosis was dark.

When you know something is wrong and you can’t fix it, as a parent it’s debilitating. It makes you feel so lifeless and weak because you can’t figure out what’s wrong. And doctors are great too, but they can only recommend so many things, cross off their lists, and ultimately, it’s not their child. It’s yours.

I felt so alone. I felt like no one in the whole entire world had ever gone through this. I had an aching in my heart for my daughter, Opal. I wanted to help her, but I didn’t know how.

That unknown area is the hardest. I was stay at home mom and it felt like it was my fault that my child wasn’t on the same level as all her peers. It was hard to celebrate other children’s victories when my child couldn’t relate. And the questions. Everyone asks why your child isn’t talking or if they know the alphabet or their colors, when I’m struggling to even get my child to eat food with some kind of nutritional value.

If you’re on that middle road right now, I want to encourage you. It’s not your fault. You are an amazing parent. Your child is amazing. You are not alone.

My heart goes out to you. I know how you’re feeling. I know the pain. I know the heartbreak. It’s one of the worst feelings ever. But, hang in there. You may feel like you want to raise your white flag and escape it all, but you have a child who needs you. You don’t have to pretend you’re strong or put on a brave face, but you do have to keep moving forward. Cry, let out your emotions, don’t bottle them up. But once you’re through, hike up your momma leggings, and fix that cape. You can do this. I’m rooting for you!

Hi! I'm a wife and mom to two beautiful girls! I have a three year old, Opal, and a one year old, Lucy. My oldest was just diagnosed on the Autism Spectrum. I love to watch reruns of "FRIENDS" and drink chai tea whenever I have a free second!

For a lot of parents, the idea of becoming a step-parent would be out of the question. But for many others, when the love for a partner and their kids is so great, you don’t question your love—you solidify it.

My journey as a step-parent probably sounds the same as many others. Step-parents are widely portrayed as evil, self-serving people who have an agenda of pain and fear (thanks, Disney). A step-parent oftentimes becomes a scape-goat for issues and problems, when in reality, a lot of the personal or emotional problems probably existed prior to or after the bio-parents divorced or separated. 

Someone once called me a saint for marrying a man with three kids and taking on the role of caretaker. In reality, I’m getting just as much, if not more than I’m giving. I have been given a gift of having a beautiful family, and the opportunity to learn from and teach my kids mutually.

But before you decide if marrying someone with kids is in their or your best interest, maybe you should ask yourself some of the following questions. Marrying into a blended family does have it’s challenges, and in my experience, it’s worth it. But it might not be for everyone.

1. Do I love these children as if they were my own?

2. Do I have the capacity to care for these children as if they were my own?

3. Do I know that despite loving these children, they will always put their biological mom or dad first, even if that means being loyal to their mom or dad by bad-mouthing me?

4. Do I know that I don’t know all that happened before I was in the picture, and I will never know the whole story?

5. Am I willing to learn integrate new changes, while respecting there were “other” ways of doing things before I got into the picture?

6. Do I know that in their mom’s eyes, I will (likely) always be a source of contention?

7. Do I vow to put my family first?

8. Do I vow to love myself, even when criticized?

9. Will my spouse work alongside me in parenting the children?

10. Do I believe I can add value and purpose to these kids and my partner, as well as myself?

11. Do I accept that my beloved husband or wife must maintain a healthy relationship (or try to) with his ex-spouse?

If I had the choice, I wouldn’t trade my family for anything in the world. Blended families are extremely hard, but I’m not sure raising a “non-blended” family is all that much easier. People are people and that means we are all different and we must all have patience and desire to work together.

This post originally appeared on MomsCandidConversations.ca.

Hi, I'm Deanna. Mom and step-parent and I'm dedicated to positively contributing to the parenting community!