A letter to the other woman

By Hush   

I'm working on something... it's a painful piece. I never wanted you here, because there's been so many more before you. I don't need you here to take my place, to raise my kids, let alone be my friend; you're a threat. You don't get to step in and act like you know my kids and what's best for them. I've carried them in my body for 9 months, gave birth to them; in fact, I died on the delivery table with my last one. You can't begin to fathom what I've have taken from me in order to keep my life. I try to put myself in your place since I'm sure it can't be easy figuring out what your place, your purpose-who you are to these children. I'm in the same place as you and so lost, trying to figure out the same thing as you. I know I'm not mom, I'm just me; but what does that mean? I fight to be seen, and acknowledged as a mother to my own children, so it makes it harder for me to know who I am to him. I know you don't want me here, and don't need me either, but this is a choice we both made in our own respective ways. So... thank you for being there. Don't ever think that I chose not to be there or that I failed at my responsibility as a mother. Just be happy I'm allowing myself to step aside and let you be here. I heard what he called you, "stepmom", without skipping a beat. I wasn't mad, or sad- I was relieved that my son was comfortable enough with you to call you that. I try to be kind, just as I wanted to be treated. Sometimes I get defensive, and mean, feeling threatened because I'm afraid that I'm just as unwanted and easily replaceable as a mother too.

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This is written from the perspective of \"being the other woman\", in a motherly like role to another\'s child, but also lost in that identity of who I am to them. I am also on the side of fighting for my title of a mom to my own children, when It\'s not one that I have ever felt respected or seen in. I constantly reflect on how both of those identities intersect, seeking guidance on how to fulfill those roles.