the outsider

Caution: Living child mentioned. Though, apparently, not mine.

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I just found out that I have no legal rights to Lilly. I do not even have the right to sign a school permission slip for her.

I should have investigated this before, but I didn't. I just assumed. Silly me. When Brian and I got married, I absolutely committed to parenting Lilly. We even included her in our wedding ceremony - pledging together to nurture her and strengthen her and love her forever. Taking her fully into my life was never even in question.

And this man I love? Well, let's just say, single dads are hot. Right from the beginning his commitment to Lilly showed me what a quality guy he is. I wanted him, I married him, and that meant becoming part of his family.

Did I also want to be Lilly's mommy? It wasn't the first thing on my mind. I knew I could help care for her. I knew there were some areas of nurturing that were missing from her own mom that I could fill in. Other than that, I couldn't know what stepmommying would be like. I just jumped in. But I didn't do my homework.

Let me say, I am big on homework. Me, the Google, and the library - usually, we are tight.

Not this time. How are stepfamilies different from other families? What does the research say about the life of modern stepmoms? What are my legal rights and obligations to this child? I get a D in this class. I didn't use my head. But sometimes that's what happens when you are all heart.

If I had a doctor's note to excuse me from this homework, here's what it would say: quick engagement, move #1, wedding planning, wedding, move #2, positive pregnancy test, scary bleeding, morning sickness, more scary bleeding, husband's hernia surgery, laid off from job, trip to emergency room, bedrest, dead baby, fog of grief, tax season, Lilly's mom to hospital, dead baby due date, husband's Lyme disease, Lilly's mom disabled, more fog of grief, medical tests, grief, medical tests, grief, Christmas, grief, TTC, grief, tax season, grief, planning move #3, grief, and grief.

Excuses, excuses, right? I just didn't think to sit down and figure out, what does being a stepmom mean? And the thing is, I was doing okay with it. In the midst of everything I actually managed to parent Lilly and to love her very deeply. Never have I checked so much math homework or cooked so many square meals. I am here, every afternoon, to pick her up from school, to go to the library, to set up her yoga DVD, to arrange playdates, to drive her to soccer and to horseback riding. I sign permission slips and make snacks and take her to the doctor's office. I dole out the medication and hold her while she cries. And the other night was my first ever midnight vomiting event! Very exciting, another milestone passed.

This one year, when my insides have been torn out and my self-esteem has been on the floor, caring for Lilly--at least meeting her baseline physical needs, and maybe, I hope, a few emotional needs too--has been the one thing I've done right. The one thing I've stuck to fiercely and refused to give up on, no matter how much I didn't want to get out of bed. The one thing I could be proud of.

The state, however, doesn't care. Unless Brian signs a legal affidavit, I have no right to make any decisions regarding Lilly's health or education. If Brian dies, I will have no right to either custody or visitation. She will go to live with her mom, S. If S. doesn't want her, she will go to a biological relative. I might parent her, but I am not her parent.

I have been encouraged to see the upside of this: If I make a million dollars, I don't have to give any of it to Lilly's college education. If Brian and I get divorced, I don't have to pay anyone child support. Is this supposed to make me feel better?

Oddly, the "helpful" research out there on step-parenting says the same thing. If her mom is in the picture, I shouldn't mother her. I shouldn't discipline or make any big decisions. I shouldn't think of myself as her parent at all, because she already has two parents. I should be a mentor and role model and focus on being Dad's wife.

That's all well and good, except... I live here. What do I do when she asks if she can go to a friend's house? If she talks back to me over dinner? If she is vomiting in the middle of the night? Brian is not here 24/7. Of course I am going to parent her. Of course.

I understand the point. Blended families are hard. They are built out of grief and loss, especially for the kids. Lilly already has a mother and father, and it is primarily their job to raise her. I don't want to be, or be seen as, separating Lilly from her mom. It is already confusing enough for her. And healthy boundaries will help me to stay sane while negotiating dynamics that were in place long before I got here.

And her mom does have roles and rights that should not be ignored. So let's skip right over the part where I talk about how much I disagree with her parenting decisions. And how she gave up custody of her five-year-old, because she "couldn't deal with it." And how she is on the chemo pill but still smoking in front of Lilly. And how jealous I am that she, with a bad medical history, was able to pop out a healthy baby girl at age 46, while I am seemingly normal, but have a dead baby girl and am raising her kid for her. Yeah, let's skip over that.

Because legally, medically I am no one to Lilly. I am just a "legal stranger." And legally, medically, I am no one to Angel Mae. Because it is like she was not even here.

Childless parent. I have two daughters. Except I don't. Invisibly, frantically, I parent absent hearts. I love them so fiercely. And yet I wonder, to myself alone, will I ever get to do this "for real"?

I have been thinking of myself as a mother. What if that identity doesn't fit - yet? Am I causing myself too much suffering? Is there some other way to think of myself on this journey? Can I love my girls without hurling myself repeatedly against the social and legal boundaries that tell me how much of a parent I'm allowed to be? Do I need to be "Mom"?

I am sitting here with these thoughts, outside those boundaries. Lawlessly parenting someone else's child and my secret dead baby. Signing permission slips willy-nilly and celebrating the birthdays of someone who was never born. Out here, in the wild west of motherhood, it probably doesn't matter what I call myself or what other people think. And while it kind of hurts, I have to ask myself, how many more ways can I get kicked out to the fringes? And what if I like it out here?