Jacqui Knight

If my childlessness felt unseen in society, and amongst my friends and family already (and it did), then becoming a childless step parent was akin to falling down a gap and becoming a mere inconceivable dot in the far and dark distance, hardly noticeable to the naked eye.

Now when those around me are talking about their children they simply ask me about my husband’s children. There isn’t a need to acknowledge or be sensitive to the fact that I don’t have any myself, because surely now I do? Well, no I don’t. I am childless not by choice, and that hasn’t changed. I will still never be a parent or a grandparent. I will never live that life. Being a step parent doesn’t change that.

I love my husband’s children, really love them. When they hurt, I hurt. When they are celebrating my heart bursts with pride. I love being in their life. I love that I have a role in their life, I best describe it as being a mentor, I am their champion, I am a confidant when they want me to be one. Quite frankly I am anything they want me to be. As I am with my nieces and nephews. I love and adore them all…. But they are not my children.

I will still never be called mum. I will never hold that unquestioning space in someone’s life. I am instead more like a parenting support team – have you phoned them? Did you return their text? Have you invited them to….? Have you heard from them? I want my husband to have the best relationship he can with them, and I want to have the best relationship I can with them, but these are two different things.

It's not my step children’s job to make me a parent…. It has been suggested to me (by a well-meaning therapist with four children) that this belief may be holding me back from fully embracing being a step parent. She may be right. I am clear of my boundaries and my role, that’s true. Am I protecting myself from the hurt of wanting too much from our relationship? Probably. Do I want to change this? No, I don’t think I do. I’m holding myself safe.

My relationship with my husband is strong. We are close, we talk about everything and work hard to see each other. He has held me when I’ve cried about being childless. He listens and supports me in the best way he can. However, it’s something we will never share. He will never really know the loss that I carry every day. It’s mine to hold and to navigate. Do I feel lonely as a result? Yes. Do I also feel blessed and supported? Yes.

I’ve often felt like I’ve fallen down a gap in our childless community too. At the same time as discovering that endometriosis was stopping me conceive, my first marriage broke down in the most spectacular fashion. I subsequently lost 10 years of my life to my grief and depression at the loss of that relationship. My childless loss was in there, but really only surfaced when it was too late. For me, that meant I was unsure if I had the right to be seen here. Do I feel even more invisible in our community as a result of now being a step parent? I thought I did, but the fact that you’re reading this means that I am being seen and I feel that support.

Photo by Katja Anokhina on Unsplash