LexTalk

There’s a certain ache that comes with being a stepmom that no one prepares you for. It’s not always loud. It doesn’t always announce itself with tears or conflict. Sometimes, it just sits with you quietly. On a crowded bleacher. In the middle of a softball tournament. While the world buzzes around you, unaware that you’re slowly unraveling on the inside.

Today was one of those days.

The morning started at the pool, where we were cheering on the kids at their swim meet. It was supposed to be a day about them—support, encouragement, community. But then someone walked by. Someone familiar. A coworker of my husband’s, who had helped set up a celebration for him before we got married. She smiled, said she had heard so much about me… but then asked what my name was. Several times.

Then came the inevitable question: “Do you have kids here?”

I replied that we had a few kids swimming.

“Oh—you two have children together?”

I smiled and gently corrected, “No… they’re my bonus kids.”

She paused. Tilted her head. “So… you don’t have any kids?”

And just like that, the air left my lungs. I nodded. “No. I guess I don’t.”

She didn’t mean anything by it. She was actually kind in her delivery. But that didn’t stop the words from piercing. It was a subtle reminder of something I carry with me daily: I’m not their mom. I’m here—I show up, I support, I care deeply—but I am still, in most people’s eyes, just the stepmom.

There are moments that reinforce this feeling like echos. The kid’s mom is visible in a way I’m not – whether it’s through gear that celebrates her role or simply the familiarity others have with her. I don’t fault her for it. She’s earned her place, but I can’t help noticing the contrast. She holds the title everyone recognizes. I hold the effort that’s often unseen. No matter how many snacks I pack, games I attend, or rides I offer, I’m quietly reminded that I exist in a space just outside the lines.

I feel invisible sometimes. Especially in the mom circles, where invites for playdates or coffee don’t seem to land in my lap. Even when I’m friendly. Even when I try.

After the meet, we headed to another sports event for one of the kids. A parent from the team was friendly and chatty—until she pieced together who I was. “Ohhh, you’re Tony’s wife,” she said, with surprise. And then… the conversation changed. Again, I felt like a visitor in a life I live every day.

A child—innocent and curious—later asked if I was really a stepmom because she thought I looked like I could be one of the older siblings. Then came the kicker: “Are you even old enough to be a stepmom?” I’m 36. I smiled, but inside, I felt embarrassed. Diminished. Othered. Again.

By the time I sat down in the middle of the bleachers, everything around me felt heavy. People were on either side of me, but no one sat close. I looked up and realized the rows on both sides were full… except for my section. In that moment, it felt symbolic. Like I was somehow untouchable. Alone. Even in a crowd.

I miss my people. I miss Florida. My friends. My family. The ease of being known.

Out here, I feel like I’m always explaining who I am. Always wondering if I’m being judged. Always questioning if I’m enough. Enough of a wife. Enough of a stepmom. Enough of a woman—even if I’ve never had a child of my own.

Sometimes I want to scream: I AM HERE. I show up. I love hard. I pour into these kids with every ounce of myself. But my presence often goes unnoticed, or miscategorized, or simply overlooked.

It’s not about wanting credit. It’s about wanting to feel like I belong.

To anyone reading this who’s ever sat on a bleacher feeling like a ghost—I see you. You are not alone. Whether you’re a stepmom, a guardian, a foster parent, or a childless woman walking alongside someone else’s children—you matter.

And if the world ever forgets to tell you that…

Let this post be your reminder.

You’re not invisible.

You’re invaluable.

For my fellow stepmoms:

If you’re looking for a meaningful way to capture your journey, A Stepmom’s Story is a beautiful life-story journal designed just for stepmothers. It offers space to reflect, celebrate, and document all the moments – big and small – that shape this unique role. You can find it here on Amazon. (As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases – thank you for supporting my blog!)