A New Life

"Sita, can I have a popsicle?" I heard a little voice say. I immediately got up and walked to the freezer to get a treat for that curly headed 3 year old boy. This is a new life for me, a new role I've chosen to fill. Here I am, taking care of a home with a 1 year old and a 3 year old. I look down upon my left hand and see a ring. I had to stop and think, is this what that rebellious, partying, thinking only of herself, teenager was so "afraid" of happening to her? I remember the words like, "I'm not getting married" or "I'll never have the desire to be a mother". Those words were now distant memories. I'm married, and I have two wonderful stepsons. I wouldn't change anything for the world!

I never wanted to take the place of their mother, so we had come up with a 'name' for the boys to call me. It was Sita, short for momasita (a nickname dad had tagged on me). I was satisfied with that, it felt right. Many people would ask why they called me that, not knowing they were my stepchildren. That was a wonderful revelation to me. To know people couldn't tell they were my stepchildren. I felt like I had shown them love, and not that 'wicked stepmother' love we hear about in books, but the true love of a "mother".

I have been told that I will never be able to conceive and have my "own" child. Hearing those words is very hard. They cut deeply every time I hear them. I can imagine they are even harder for a woman who isn't a "mom" to someone. There are times when it's hard to be around the newborn of a close friend or family member. I hate feeling that way, but this struggle that goes on inside of me is so real. I long to hold that newborn of my own. The one birthed from my womb. I wait and pray, hoping that someday it becomes a reality. Until then, I have two boys that are my life, they're the sunshine on my dark days. They may not be children of my womb, but they are without question children of my heart.