So glad you had a great summer…I have two weekends before my hubs leaves for the middle East for a year with the NH National Guard…and we’re making the most of them…bring on the mindless beer commercials…

I get all the unconditional love and loving without attachments and all the philosophy and feelings that go along with that and that’s how I live my life as much as I can.

But…….and it’s a big but, it’s not the same when you don’t have kids of your own. I am not angry at stepmothers who have children and want to give me advice, I just think they really don’t know, they haven’t walked in my shoes, so I’ll consider it and then make my own decision.

Whether you misinterpreted your husbands comments, projected onto what he said more than was there or not, I hope you will not minimize your feelings or your desire to be included. Your need for reassurance from your spouse about your place and role in the family is valid and natural. I hope you will not make it your own fault any more than that you’ll sit in dejection waiting to be invited back to the party.

I think your response sounds beautiful. You backed away, did some self-soothing and then when it felt like a good time to share your feelings (present) with your s-son, you then did so. Sounds pretty healthy to me. And health can include the need for extra reassurance and touching base with our partners to feel included and part of the process. According to Sue Johnson, Hold Me Tight, even adults need the attachment bonds that children need as they grow up.

Glad I found your blog!

Every step along the way is a learning step. The clearer we are with ourselves, the clearer we are with everything else

xo
Peggy

As a childless stepmom, I can relate to the whole ‘responsibility without authority’ dynamic; very frustrating. I never thought I’d want kids of my own, but I have found myself wondering if I should, just so I could have some control and could prove what a better job I could do at it, not exactly a pure motivation!! Not to mention having an outlet for all my newly discovered, yet unrequited mothering tendencies…

What I always come back to is loving without attachment, just as you say. I’m so very thankful to have an awesome stepson, and I try my best to create quality time whenever we are together. This is something I do have control over, even if I can’t control the other stuff. Over time, I’m learning how to let go as well!

Thanks again, and keep up the good work.

I remember the first time one of my step-daughters landed in the hospital…she was in a car accident, just a fender bender, but was taken to ER because she hurt her neck. I had just gotten home, had a long day, when hubs got the call. He knew I had had a long day. When I asked him, “do you want me to go with you?” he replied “No.”

I felt everything from complete rejection to complete rejection. Hubs back tracked after seeing the look on my face (we’d been married 2 short months) and said, “yes, of course I want you to come”

But in my complete rejection, I told him NO. He had to beg me to get in the car and boy did I feel like a complete idiot as he held the door open for me.

Turns out – when he originally told me “No” it wasn’t that he didn’t want me to go – he KNEW I had a long day at work and knowing that SD really was ok, he just thought I’d want to stay home and chill.

Is it possible that your husband thought along the same lines? That this was pretty much a very common type of surgery and he made and assumption based on thinking more of you and your time?

My husband learns every time we find ourselves in a new “uh-oh” moment, and so do I. I’ve learned to say stuff like “I’d like to be there” or “I’d like to go” or “I’d rather stay home…”

Did you want to be at the hospital? How did you approach your husband? Was it more like my first attempt, “would you like me to go?” or was it more like “I’d like to be there” ?

After learning from SD’s trip to the emergency room, I learned to rephrase how I approached hubs. Because when SS had to have surgery to fix his deviated septum, I simply said, “I’ll be there.”

And I was.