ArcaMax

Last weekend I visited my aunt and uncle. Their 30-plus acres tucked into the foothills of Appalachia has been my place of refuge for more than 20 years. It's where my husband proposed to me, and it's where we return to again and again with our son. Last weekend, we enjoyed the birds and played in the garden, weeding, mulching and identifying the green sprouts emerging for the season. Two early bachelor's buttons had already bloomed after reseeding from last summer.

Bachelor's buttons always take me back to meeting my stepmother. She came into my life when I was 8 years old. It was the summer after my mother had died tragically in a car accident. We bought a packet of seeds and planted them in our backyard. I made a row in the dirt and tucked the seeds neatly inside loose soil. The flowers grew leggy and sparse, but I was proud. I had grown them. I liked my stepmother immediately, though loving her took time.

In my young mind I thought that if I loved her, and all that she brought into my life, that somehow meant I was glad my mom was dead. How could I possibly hold space for grief and loss while enjoying every advantage my stepmother brought to my life? This made holidays like Mother's Day complicated.

My stepmother loved me anyway and never expressed jealousy over my longing for my mother. It had to be hard for her to step into a home aching with grief, but she did. She was the one who recognized my interest in music and signed me up for piano and guitar lessons. She taught me to sew and craft. We beaded earrings together. She took me to work with her so I could volunteer. We went on adventures to snorkel with manatees in Florida, and I learned screen-washing with her paleontologist friend. She encouraged my writing and drove me to auditions so I could pursue acting in local theatre productions. And yes, it was even because of her that the aunt and uncle we visit most are in my life. That uncle is her brother.

My stepmother and my dad divorced when I was in high school, and I fell out of touch with her. It was the loss of her that made me confront how much I really did love her. After a five-year estrangement, we reconnected. Oh, how I had missed her. Now, I like to joke that I kept her in the divorce.

As an adult, I realize that loving my stepmother does not betray my mother. It honors her.

When my mom was alive, my parents were also foster parents. They began fostering children before I was born, while my two older sisters were still babies. My mother was actually en route to pick up a foster child when that fatal crash occurred. She died in service to children in need of a mom. Of course my mother would want someone to step in and love me, raise me, in her absence. She would want me to have a life full of love, and I now know as a parent that the more people who love your child, the better. There is no such thing as too much love. It's what my mom did for so many children as a foster mother. Being open to the love of my stepmother means that I have not shorted myself in this life, and it also honors the work my mother gave her life for.

This understanding set me free from the guilt I felt as a child. I let it go. It allowed me to not only accept the love of my stepmother but to wholeheartedly love her in return. That's why I call her "Mom" now. She is the mom I've known most of my life, and I am so grateful for her love and for her incredible support. So, on this Mother's Day, I want to honor her and all of the women who stepped in and stepped up for a child when they didn't have to.

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