Love Hurts

Love hurts, love scars
Love wounds, and marks
Any heart, not tough
Or strong enough

As a step-mom, I feel called to a number of challenging tasks.  The increased workload, the additional schedules, the fine line of discipline.  For me, the most difficult of all is to love them, fully and passionately.

It's not that I don't feel that way naturally, because I do.  I remember the very first time I saw each of them and I distinctly remember falling in love with them that day and many other days since.

What's hard about loving them as though they were my own is simple.  They're not.  Although I gladly share a portion of the responsibilities for them, I am not a voting member of this congress.

This has recently come into play with Mr. T's youngest.  We call him The Rockstar.  The Rockstar is 8, going on 9, and is in need of some pretty heavy duty dental work.  The dentist wants to put him under general anesthesia to perform this work.  I feel strongly that a second opinion should be had.  It doesn't seem like that will be happening, though.  Bleh.

Mr. T actively seeks my ideas and feelings on kids matters and this was no different.  Except this time it was different for me because I realized I was extremely anxious for this little man and I had to remind myself that he isn't mine and I don't get a say.

He's not mine.

No say.

I was called to love these kids.  Somehow I loved them instantly and felt like they were home.  These kids have become my kids' siblings and I feel most whole when they are with us.  It hurts to be so invested and yet not really be a stakeholder.

Even though hitting this wall hurts, I believe that knowing it's there will help keep me from meddling where I don't belong.  I'm strong enough to do that for them.  Because I love them.