We recently crossed into new territory as a stepfamily. With the departure of my stepson for his freshman year of college, and with my stepdaughter just entering her senior year of college, we have been confronted with a new stage in stepfamily living: No more stepchildren at home.
Is it a thing to say we are stepkid-empty-nesters?
Granted, we certainly aren’t anywhere near being actual empty nesters, with three young “ours birds” in the nest. Indeed, we’re still right there in the throes of the parenting years.
But we’re different now. It think it’s fair to say that the nest feels a little lopsided.
It seemed so far away.
Eight years ago, when our first “ours baby” was born, I remember thinking that some day WAY in the future, when she turned eight years old, her older brother and sister would be out of the house and she would become the oldest child in our home.
And then for a while it looked like she would have to wait for a time to claim that position, as my stepson dreamed of traveling around Europe for a year, which would have required him to stay home and work quite a bit before realizing that dream. But in the end, he did leave for college; albeit not without the promise of studying abroad in his near future to secure the deal!
So now here we are, with both of the older kids out from under our roof. Their shoes might be missing from the entryway, but what’s left are many colorful memories and reflections.
There are reflections of the years behind us that show both victory and struggle, investment and sacrifice; and there are reflections that show us fighting for our family when sometimes the odds seemed stacked against us.
Most of all, though, the reflections show years full of blessings, joy and learning to give grace.
And now, after nine years of marriage, which include eight years of raising my husband’s children full-time as my own, it hardly seems possible to have entered this new stage of our lives together. As cliché as it sounds, it seems hard to believe how quickly eight years have gone by.
Eight Years
Eight short years ago, we had just moved to a new state and a new school to follow my husband’s new job. My stepkids were 10 and 13. I was, ironically, eight months pregnant.
Eight short years ago we were picking out a “baby gift” to give each of my stepkids as their new baby sister was about to make an entrance into our lives.
And eight short years ago, it was the first day of school in our new town. Our house that morning was full of new-student jitters and high hopes of making friends. My stepkids, who had moved to our new state with us as a result of gaining primary custody, indulged me on the front steps for a brave-faced first-day-of-school picture before we jumped into the car and rolled out of the driveway.
And there I was, their overly pregnant stepmom, squeezed behind the steering wheel, saying a quick prayer out loud asking God to provide them with good friendships. Then, as they hopped out of the car with a wave and smile, my words trailed behind them:
“You’ll meet your new sister after school…!”
It’s safe to say that I was equally filled with excitement and a bit of nervousness for what the day would bring. After all, upon bidding them farewell that late August morning, I myself had a very important appointment to attend. So I proceeded to drive myself home and pack my bag before taking myself to the hospital for a 9 a.m. induction.
My husband met me at the hospital shortly thereafter. He had just begun his new college administrative job, too, and had some business to attend to before his new daughter was to arrive that day.
He showed up as I was being handed a hospital gown, and we made our way down to the delivery room. And after a long day of laboring, our baby girl was there. She arrived in the afternoon — a squishy little red-faced bundle. In those sweet, tender moments of embracing her small fingers and stroking her cheeks, we looked forward to introducing her to her older sister and brother.
One of the benefits of the move was that my parents now lived under an hour away. So on this momentous occasion, they were the ones who picked up the older kids from school and brought them to meet their new sister, but not before spoiling them with goodie bags of little gifts, as a sort of acknowledgement for all the changes they were undergoing that day.
And on that first day of school eight years ago, as they entered that delivery room with great trepidation, that’s where my stepkids learned their new sister’s name — and told us about their new teachers and the friends they had met — all on the same day.
So now, eight years later, after recently celebrating my daughter’s eighth birthday, here we are. She has reached the age I hardly thought possible when I held her tiny, swaddled body in my arms. These days, she hardly fits on my lap anymore. She is the oldest kid in the house now, after all.
It’s not like they are just visiting their bio mom for a few weeks. It’s finally sinking in: My stepdaughter and stepson have both graduated and moved out.
On our wedding day, that mild day in the middle of May nine years ago, when my stepson dragged his feet down the aisle, begrudgingly holding the rings with a scowl on his face, I would never have imagined that nine years later on the night before he was to leave for college, he’d pull me aside and say he was sorry he was for rejecting me all those years; for fighting with me and disrespecting me.
In fact, it would have seemed impossible.
And he probably never would have realized just how close we could become, once the animosity was set aside and we were allowed to simply enjoy each other’s company.
It’s true – a lot has transpired in the eight years since that rather chaotic first day of school. Yet, after adding two more “ours babies,” managing to make another move to another state, which meant another new school, and a few (okay, a lot) more gray hairs and extra pounds for me, here we are.
And here THEY aren’t.
But they are. They are so close to my heart. And let’s face it: They’re really only one text or phone call away.
Before we know it, October will be here and my stepdaughter will be visiting and introducing us to her new boyfriend. And then it will be Thanksgiving, and my stepson will be home from college till January. The house will once again be full of him telling stories and recounting events from his daily life — this time from his daily life on the campus of his new college.
And I’m glad. I feel beyond blessed that we have made it to this point — the stepkid-empty-nester stage — and yet, I’m glad we still have the satisfying memories and reflections behind us, and the hope of a relationship before us.
But, let’s be honest. Time really can stand still now. Because don’t get me started about how old my little ones will be in eight years!
