The other day, Becky Fawcett from Infertile Blonde, and had a t-shirt give away on her blog, to the first twenty readers who emailed her about what their family means to them received shirts.  The shirts are so cute, and another conversation starter, which I love.

I really love telling people about our adoption story.  I love being able to share how special my girl is to us.  It had dawned on me before about what a difference Mea has made in the lives of my family.  I hadn’t really been able to put it all together, into words before I shared my email with Becky.

My step-daughters were all teenagers when my husband and I got married.  Mack was only eight.  Originally, when we were first dating, the girls and I had pretty good relationships.  After we all moved in together, and my husband and I were married, things just took a downward turn.  I can understand why.  I’m not stupid.  I wasn’t that much older than they were, and here I was suddenly their step-mom.  They had other step mom’s before (someday we’ll discuss this, it is plural).  In addition to the fact that they were doing regular teenage stuff, it was all stuff that they had gotten away with before and weren’t any longer, I was the reason their Dad had decided to finally enforce rules.  It was me.  I knew it, he knew it, and they knew it.

It was a rocky road.  When the oldest two girls started having their own babies, things got marginally better, but really only marginally.  They needed us to babysit.  They knew that as much as they loved their Dad, I was the one who was doing the majority of the babysitting.  Things did start turning around.  Then Robin’s Mom died.  Then we had D as a foster placement.  When we got the call for Mea, and she came home, it was the change in our family dynamic that was needed to fix everything.  We have a common ground.  We have Mea, they have their girls and baby boy, the kids are all around the same(ish) ages, and it has made us closer than ever.

Without Mea joining our family, I don’t know if these relationships could have been fixed.  Mea made us all a family.  Without a doubt. 

Now, I didn’t talk about Mack’s piece of this much, but Mea did help with some of the bonding issues between Mack and the big girls too.  The funny thing is Mack and her oldest sister, have the same age difference as I have with her older sister.  When we got married, and they had this instant 8-year-old sister, it wasn’t that they didn’t like her, it was more that they just didn’t make time, or have much interest in her.  Mack always wanted to have a younger sibling.  Always.  As she got older, I think she wanted a sibling more than ever.  She wanted to be able to form the kind of relationship that she hadn’t ever had with the big girls.  Mea gave her that.  It also gave her a common ground with the big girls, they were all sisters.  All of them.


 Here’s my girl in her Chosen shirt.  She’s doing her crazy eyes again.  I swear every picture I take of her, she’s looking off somewhere else.  We were the only ones home, so it’s not like she was looking at someone else!

Also, I did my first attempt at Bantu Knots in Mea’s hair this weekend.  This style is definitely a keeper.  It has held up for 3 days.  It doesn’t seem too hard on her hair, and is making hair time, so much more bearable.  I watched a video on Happy Girl Hair, and I am so glad I did!  Super cute.  She has gotten lots of compliments on them.


2 Comments on “Chosen.”

  1. Libby says:

    No wonder she’s the boss!

    And I LOVE the knots!

  2. Jen says:

    Thanks for sharing your story. It is helpful to read of other family’s struggle for harmony and helpful to see how it can change.

I like thoughtful comments!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s