How I Found Out I'm A Step Mom

It was a day before DJ and I’s four-year anniversary. We had just moved into our first rental home, Lulu was just shy of four, I worked at job I hated with my mother, and DJ was at work. He tends to…how do I put this delicately…ignore his family and Facebook. They got mad at him constantly. Back then, I used to remind him to call his mother, call his father, check his messages, the whole shebang before the “Great Fallout” happened. Don’t worry, I will go into that…extensively when the time permits. I guarantee that will be a whole slew of blogs under it’s own crazy name like “TALES OF THE RACIST MONSTER-IN-LAW!” That has a nice ring to it, but I digress.

Early morning, I checked his Facebook to see if anyone had gotten in contact with him. Usually, I would read the contents (he gave me permission), message him a rundown, and then tell him “Call/text so and so.” Only this time was far different. There was a woman in his inbox. She left a long, long, long paragraph and in an instant I felt worried, but I was damn curious. So, I read the letter. It was a kind, beautiful, and well-thought-out message. I could tell from how she’d written it, she was just as scared as I was in that moment. There was a picture of a boy and he was beautiful. The funny thing is, I didn’t react with anger, or hate, or irrational thoughts. I honestly just wanted answers. Of course, there was the passing thought of “Damn, she couldn’t wait until the day after our anniversary?” but when it comes to a child, there shouldn’t be a waiting period. He was older than Lulu by twenty-three months and one day, so I knew DJ didn’t cheat on me. Because, let’s be frank, if he did, I’d be in jail. I had a moment where I just knew in the deepest part of my soul she was telling the truth. But, leave it to my husband, he denied everything.

Now, don’t think he was an asshole or anything. He told her nicely, “I’m sorry, I don’t think we slept together. I really hope you find his father.” And left it at that. He was more terrified on how I was reacting. As the days went on, I stalked her, alright? I’ll admit it! We all stalk someone someway! I looked at her pictures of the boy and he looks exactly like DJ. Just prettier. He was denial, I kept trying to tell him “Hey, maybe we should get a paternity test.” But, being the stubborn, Cajun he is; he refused. Not one day went by that I didn’t think about her or her little boy. Now, I know I could’ve messaged her myself but honestly, I was terrified. I was scared to go against DJ, I was scared on what my family would think about him, I was terrified because I didn’t want drama. He’s three states away from us, so I was unsure on how we’d even meet him, or if we could be there for him. There were too many variables for me to jump out on.

Now, I wish I had because four months later there was high call volume coming from his mother. Every other day, every weekend, she was constantly asking us when we’d be visiting. DJ and I thought nothing of it, but I wish we did. By the end of the year, I brought up my curious concerns and talked him into meeting with her, meeting the boy, and possibly getting a paternity test because I hated the thought of him not ever finding out. So, we agreed that come February of the next year, we would reach out once we were in town and schedule a meeting. OOOOOH BOY. Enter the monster. I’m going to give you the quickest rundown ever. She already knew about him for four months and kept it from us, she took it upon herself to do her own paternity test, told the mother not to say a word to us, lied about me and how I would basically destroy their family, already had plans for the mother and her fiancé at the time to meet us, and had everyone in DJ’s family at the house to yell at my husband for his “Fuck up.” Let that marinate.

When I tell you that the mother was completely terrified when she met us, I will never, ever forget the look on her face. I hugged her because I knew what she’d gone through with that woman (DJ’s mother). DJ’s mother was begging us to take our son from his own mother for hours before she’d arrived. And get this, give DJs son…to her. Excuse the fuck out of me. Let me stop now before getting carried away.

The light of this story was how our boy and Lulu were attracted to each other like magnets. DJ’s family live on about twenty-two acres. When he got out of the car, Lulu ran up to him and said “Hi, I’m your sister.” He hugged her and went off running to play. As Lulu put on her shoes, I told her “Val is playing already baby.” She ran outside in her little light-up sneakers, gasped, and said “He forgot about me!? I’M COMING!” and took off running. Val stopped in the middle of the field, turned to her, and said, “I didn’t forget you! Let’s go!” and they both went running off into the sunset. Guys, I shit you not, this happened! I literally looked from side to side and wondered what the hell kind of movie I found myself in!

Long story short, it’s been four years since I found out I was a step mother. A lot has changed, but there is one thing I’m grateful for. Is his mother. She is one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met inside and out. She and I are similar, and both been through enough crap to understand that drama in families never work. I love that little boy as much as I do my own daughter. In that time, I have cut all contact with my husband’s mother. I’ll explain that on a rainy day. I have kept in close contact with Val’s mother, and I couldn’t ask for anything more. I’ve watched her bring another child into this world, added with Val’s younger brother, and I’ve loved them as well. Among us, there are four kids. Sure, only one is biologically Lulu’s brother, but she doesn’t treat the younger ones any different. Those are her siblings. In time we hope to move closer to them and vice versa. The only thing I wish was different between us all, was knowing sooner. I would have loved for the kids to grow up together as babies. Other than that, I wouldn’t change my little family for anything. If there are any step-parents out there, share with me your stories. I would love to hear them, I’m always in the mood for a good cup of tea. Be safe out there and thank you for stopping by to read another portion of my chaotic life. Remember, every day is just a different variation of a hot mess!

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