Birth

It's almost a whole year since I went through labour and I've been meaning to write this post for all that time, I want to get it down in words before I forget it all. I guess this post is more for my memories more than anything else so sorry if it's not very interesting to read and it's a long one I'm afraid!

My due date was 6th June 2016 and that day came and went, I'd finished for maternity leave the week before and started drinking raspberry leaf tea, eating pineapple and dates, walking as much as I could and bouncing on my birthing ball. On the 9th I went for a sweep, the midwife said she couldn't do it though as my cervix was only 1/2cm so that evening I went for a long walk/waddle with my other half as I was adamant I didn't want to be induced. I was adamant about a lot of things but more on that later.

I woke on the 10th with what felt like occasional mild period pains, I didn't really think anything about it until they carried on all morning. I decided that maybe I was in early labour, text my Mum and other half but told them not to worry and ran myself a bath. It was only at 4pm that the contractions picked up and started to get stronger and more regular. I rang the maternity unit and they said to stay at home until I was having 3 contractions within 10 mins, so far so good!

My OH was home by this time and started to time my contractions once they were at 3 every 10 mins, at about 8pm, he was ready to head to hospital. I remember actually saying "I expected it to hurt more" to him but off we went. I was assessed and as I'd expected, told to go home again as I wasn't in active labour. We decided to get ready for bed and try to get some sleep but by 10.30ish each contraction was too painful for me to even think about sleeping so off we went again to hospital.

I was once again assessed and told I wasn't in active labour but because I was too distressed (I was crying) to go home they agreed to send me up to the ward. We were taken to the ward waiting room, where we kind of expected to just be for a short time until there was a bed BUT this wasn't their plan, as I wasn't in active labour they just wanted us to wait, in the waiting room! I assume as punishment for not just going home but my OH was not amused in the slightest, and I'd kind of expected more than 2 paracetamol.

My OH complained and I was initially given a TENS machine to help with the pain - it did fuck all to help to be honest - and a codeine to go along with the paracetamol, but we were still asked to just stay in the waiting room. It was now around midnight and after some more complaining by my OH I was assessed again and told that if I wanted a bed my OH would have to go home and that I could have a shot of pethidine to allow me to get some sleep. We happily agreed to this as we were both shattered! The shot of pethidine worked, I still woke at every contraction, but only to kind of register the pain and then drift back to sleep....oh sleep, how I miss you zzzzzzzzzz

Saturday morning came around and although the contractions were stronger and regular I felt pretty good and positive for the impending birth and getting to finally meet baby Rushwood. I was given more paracetamol and codeine and was eventually assessed by a student midwife AND her mentor - it's true, you loose all dignity when giving birth, I didn't care one bit who had a look or feel - and was told I was 6/7cm dilated so I was definitely in active labour and could move to the birth centre, hoorah!

Off I waddled to the birth centre and I'd got the room with the pool (purely by luck) so that was busy being filled whilst the gas & air was explained to me. No one asked to read my birth plan - not that I was bothered as it basically said "I'll go with the flow" - and the midwife explained that on the birth centre they just keep you well fed and leave you to it. So I got in the pool and was left to it.

That's when I started to feel like I wasn't in control any more. The pool wasn't helping with the pain and the gas & air started to make me feel dizzy and sick and the midwife was just sat in the corner of the room. I felt like I needed a wee, but couldn't (sorry if too much information, but it's only going to get worse from this point in!) so I assumed that maybe that was how it felt when I was ready to push. I had no clue, I hadn't done it before!

The midwife examined me and said that she thought I was only 5cm dilated, so that I'd gone backwards from the 6/7cm I had been that morning. In the back of my head I was saying "WHAT THE FUCK, that's not possible" but I didn't verbalise that, I should have done in hindsight. Anyway, because of that and the dizziness from the gas & air the midwife asked if I wanted to move to the delivery suite as there I could be assessed by a Dr and I'd have more pain relief options available. I agreed to move as the birth centre just wasn't working for me, I didn't feel supported/safe enough and the idea that there would be Dr's and monitors was reassuring to me.

Off I waddled, past a group of mum's to be having a tour, down to the delivery suite.

The delivery suite looked much more like I'd expected it all to look, proper hospital bed, monitors, lights, a Dr in a white coat. Much better, much safer, much happier Zoe. The new midwife that I was handed over to examined me, I've no idea by this point who hadn't had a look! She took one feel and asked if I needed a wee, I did feel like I needed a wee but nothing came out! So the Dr had a feel and decided I had a full bladder and they would do an in/out catheter. Sounds horrible, it wasn't pleasant and if I had any dignity left that was the point it all went out the window, but oh the relief when it was done. The contractions didn't seem to hurt quite as much and I finally felt empty (if you know what I mean), from memory they got 600ml out so no wonder I wasn't feeling too comfortable. They decided that baby was back to back and that their head wasn't fully flexed, hence it had been pressing on my bladder at a funny angle which had stopped me being able to wee.

By now it was Saturday afternoon and the Dr decided that they would burst my waters to try and move things along a bit faster. OMG the amount of liquid that comes out is unbelievable, it feels like gallons and it keeps on coming out when you move too, very strange feeling.

When I moved down to delivery suite the Dr had asked me about pain relief, all I could say was that I couldn't continue with just gas & air as it wasn't doing anything to ease the pain never mind the dizziness, plus I was exhausted. Basically I'd agreed to an epidural. It was one of the things that I had been adamant that I didn't want to have, that and a c-section, unless obviously it was needed in an emergency. So I felt like I was failing, myself, my baby and strong natural birthing mothers everywhere. Ridiculous, I know, but even now when I think back about it I wish that I'd had the strength of mind to calm myself down and ask what other options were available to me, I know I wouldn't have agreed to an epidural quite so easily if I'd had other options to try first. Hindsight and not being in excruciating pain are wonderful things.

I cried as the midwife held me steady and the anaesthetist put the epidural in, the tears were because I felt I was failing myself, this wasn't how it was supposed to go, this wasn't what I'd planned or wanted, I felt like I was cheating and in my mind I was. The anaesthetist explained the boost button to me, I knew I wasn't going to use it, I was already cheating I wasn't going to numb my body even more. I had a hormone drip, fluids and had a catheter put in and I was hooked up to constant monitoring for baby's heart rate, I looked and felt like a pin cushion.

The boost button went unused and luckily the epidural only took on my right hand side so on my left I could still feel the pain and contractions. Yes, I know, weird way to feel lucky but I was so pleased I could still feel what was going on and know what my body was doing, I didn't feel like a complete fraud. The downside was that it took so well on my right hand side my right leg went completely dead, I couldn't feel it at all it was literally a dead weight, I had to use my arms to lift and move it or the midwife had to help me!

At around midnight on Saturday the midwives became concerned about baby's heart rate dropping when I had a contraction, so they consulted Drs and decided to do fetal blood monitoring.

*Sorry but it's going to get a bit TMI again now so stop reading if you don't want to know*

The midwives helped me onto my side and hoisted my dead right leg up into a stirrup, I then had 2 Drs (1 a trainee) basically poking a long sharp thing up inside me to scratch baby's head and take a blood sample from her to test blood oxygen levels. They needed 3 blood samples and the trainee Dr just didn't seem able to get them so the other Dr took over and got them at her first try. I however was laid silently crying as I was petrified that the test would show baby's blood oxygen levels were low, that they were in danger of brain damage or even worse and that I'd have to be rushed off for an emergency c-section. I have never been so scared in my entire life.

Thankfully the test results came back fine and I was allowed to continue as I was, although they increased the hormone drip to help my contractions and hopefully speed up the dilation so I could deliver baby sooner rather than later.

The Dr was back at about 1.30am on the Sunday to repeat the fetal blood monitoring, again the tests came back fine but I was now fully dilated. Hoorah! As baby was obviously in a little distress, the reduced heart rate during contractions and some meconium in my waters, the Dr said she would give me 30 mins to have a go at pushing baby out by myself, before they would step in and help.

It turned into about 10 mins to have a go myself as an emergency had come in and the Dr needed to help me first but also needed to go to surgery with the other patient asap. So the word forceps was said and then "I'm just going to do a small cut", I just nodded my acceptance. The episiotomy was painless as it was done on my right hand side which I couldn't feel, thankfully! Once the forceps were in place it felt a bit like a tug of war, the Dr certainly wasn't messing around, I felt like she was going to pull me off the bed. I was also aware that the room had filled with even more medical staff, including a paediatric Dr and a incubator I was trying to ignore her and I was told she was only there "just in case" which I know is a good thing, I'd want her there should anything be wrong but I didn't want to think about that possibility.

Once baby's head had been delivered it became clear why the heart rate had been dropping as the umbilical cord was round the neck, twice. Waiting for the next contraction to finally push baby into the world felt like it took forever but when it did come I pushed and that was it, baby was here!

The Dr lifted her onto my chest and went back to sorting me out, I was yet again in tears (of happiness) but still didn't know if we had a boy or girl. It was my OH who had a look and said we had a baby girl.

I hadn't noticed, but the room had cleared of medical staff, the incubator and paediatric Dr had gone so had the extra midwives and Dr's. The Dr was just delivering the placenta and sewing me up, all done very quickly and I barely noticed as I had our beautiful much longed for daughter in my arms. She was fine, I was fine, nothing else mattered the world contracted to just that room and that moment.

Terrifying. Excruciating. Traumatic

Incredible. Breathtaking. Wonderful

12.6.16, 02.37am, 8lb 7oz, Skye Juno

Lucy the bump

I've had a baby! I could not be happier, she is a perfect bundle of soft, gorgeous loveliness. However this post is about my pregnancy, I'll get on to birth and the immediate aftermath in another post along with one about actually being a real Mummy another day.

One day, sat in a staff briefing about a department restructure I got a migraine with an aura. Migraines were a regular occurrence (I've not had one since though and long may that continue) but not with an aura. In the moment that I popped my ever faithful pink migraleve tablets I wondered if it was due to me, maybe, being pregnant. I didn't do a test for another week or so, but I was indeed pregnant, it was the best reason for having a migraine I've ever had, although I can think of no other good reason to have one to be honest.

I was both elated and terrified in the same moment, I've known forever that I wanted children but who isn't at least a little terrified of bringing a new life into this less than perfect world? Another small problem was that I was hoping for a promotion at work and I didn't want to give them any reason to put a black mark against my name. I know, you can't discriminate, blah blah blah, but (sorry PC brigade) if I had two almost identical candidates but one was pregnant......well, I know who I'd choose.

The other issue that I struggled with was telling my stepchildren, it wasn't that I didn't want them to know, but I didn't want my other half's ex to know. It was nice to have something that just belonged to us two for a short time. Also, this was my first pregnancy, but wasn't for my other half, it made me sad that we weren't sharing it as a "first" for us both.

We told very close family and friends, but otherwise kept it quiet. I was lucky that I stayed small, for a long time you couldn't tell, unless you knew. The recruitment process at work was painfully slow but I desperately wanted the promotion, not for the money, I truly loved the job and I just couldn't let anything stop me getting it. When I was finally offered the job I let out the breath I'd been holding for 24 weeks and told my boss. He was over the moon for me, as was his boss, and it wasn't an issue in the slightest. Yes, they are pretty awesome and I probably shouldn't have worried, but I did.

We told the stepkids on Christmas Day, I thought it may soften any shock for them if they had shiny new things to be distracted by when we told them. They were all fine about it, with the youngest only being worried about not knowing how to be a big brother. On Mothers Day, whilst I was up a ladder painting the nursery, I had a text from my stepdaughter "Happy first real Mothers Day" which was totally unexpected and made my day.

My pregnancy went smoothly, at each check up and scan we were told everything was normal. I enjoyed my growing bump, although found being slowed down slightly annoying, but feeling wiggles and kicks more than made up for that and the 100's of times I needed the loo! The bump was known as Lucy, when my youngest brother was born I remember my Dad calling from the hospital and me asking him if we could call him Lucy, so what else could I have called my bump! If you follow me on any form of social media you would have seen weekly updates of my growing belly too, sorry for all the spam, which has now of course turned into baby spam!

I adored preparing the nursery and buying all the things we needed, I'd waited my entire life to be able to do it. I really struggled at points to share it all with my stepchildren and I honestly tried my best to do so, but when the youngest "tried out the cot to see how comfy it was" I cried myself to sleep. It probably sounds stupid to most of you, but to me it felt like I couldn't have anything that was just our child's, that it would always have to be shared.

Even my other half's ex was fine, at one point she even practically asked to touch my bump. The answer was no, sorry that's just a bit too weird for me. We get on fine, but we're not mates and I even had an issue with most of my mates wanting to touch, never mind my other half's ex wife! I sometimes had to stop myself from moving away when my stepchildren wanted to touch, not because I wanted exclude them, but because they were an ever present reminder that this wasn't a "first" with my partner and that always left me a little sad and still does.

I was loving my new job and decided to work right up to the last minute, well 10 days before my due date. My work colleagues looked after me brilliantly, forever stopping me from doing too much and making me cups of tea! But I think they all breathed a sigh of relief when I finally finished without giving birth in the office, I'll be back before they've had chance to miss me though.

Anxiety

This isn't a stepmother post, so if that's what you're looking for I'd suggest you stop reading now.

Still here?

OK, let's go.

Anxiety, lots of people suffer from it in varying degrees and I'm one of them. If you know me you may well be surprised, I'm not an anxious person in general, I tend to go with a "fuck it, lets do it" attitude to most things and always follow my heart not my head! I'm also a very logical person and strongly believe in science and maths, factual based anything really, no mumbo jumbo, religion or fairy stories.

For the reasons above I struggle with my anxiety as I know it's not logical, not that I'm saying it's made up, I know it's not. But it is all in my head and because of that I should be able to deal with it, talk myself out of it, make myself better.

So far I've avoided even saying what my anxiety is, that's how stupid it sounds to me, it's a struggle to even tell anyone as, in my head, it's completely ridiculous!

Driving.

My anxiety is about driving. I can drive, I've held my licence for 14 years, I've never had a crash, not even as much as a bump. A tyre once blew up and almost rolled my car, but that's not when the anxiety started, my car breaking on me doesn't even enter my head.

Stupid, isn't it.

Anyway, this has been bugging me and only getting worse so I took the step last week to see a counsellor, it felt like a massive step to me as I'd have to actually tell someone! They'd laugh and think me a fool, tell their mates down the pub so they could laugh too, maybe shout it out the window so people on the street could laugh too. None of this happened, obviously.

He actually said it's really common anxiety to have and that the main thing I had to do was accept it, not try to figure it out or fight it. That once I accept it, then I can start to move on and improve it. So here I am blogging about it, to try and accept it, to stop hiding it and thinking I'm a freak because of it.

My anxiety stems from me starting to have dizzy spells - some years ago - which despite GP visits and all sorts of tests and monitors being fitted to me there was no explanation for. They were just "one of those things" and it was nothing to worry about. But it has happened a few times when I've been driving and it started to worry me, I could have a dizzy spell and loose control or pass out and crash injuring myself or others, or worse. From this I started to worry about having a dizzy spell when driving, which started to make me feel anxious, breathe shallower, faster, make my heart race. Basically making myself feel like I was going to have a dizzy spell and pass out, stupid, yes? I know!

I worried most on fast, busy roads, motorways, where I couldn't just pull over and stop. I've actually been in tears whilst driving, just through my own thoughts/anxiety around this, totally freaking out making myself dizzy and thinking I'm the only one like this! So slowly I've just stopped driving on motorways. Stopped driving much at all really, I don't need to drive on a daily basis so why put myself through the trauma? I know this is actually counter productive and is making my anxiety worse but I can't help it! The counsellor told me I'm not alone and he has seen 100's of people with similar anxiety issues. Made me feel slightly better, although he may have been lying.

He also asked me if I enjoyed driving. I don't, I never have really. It was a necessity to learn since I lived in the middle of nowhere. Now it's a necessity so I can get back to that middle of nowhere. Put me in my car on the roads in that middle of nowhere and I'm quite happy, I'll throw my car round the winding little roads like I'm in a rally. Plus I know I can just pull over and stop and ring my Dad to come rescue me if I need to!

I've never been a confident driver either and this was eroded more by my ex husband who would comment and question my driving at every opportunity even though he couldn't drive himself! My partner now is a very confident, quite aggressive driver and terrible passenger, which does nothing for my confidence in my own skills. Although really I know that I'm a perfectly good and safe driver. Talking of passengers, this makes my anxiety 100 times worse as I'm responsible for their safety as well as my own! Never ask me for a lift.

However, I have bought a new battery for my car (which is awaiting help from my ever suffering Dad to fit it) so I can get Erika (yes, my car has a name) back on the road and start to take myself out again, start to build my confidence and take some little steps back to being what I perceive to be "normal". Maybe one day I'll get myself back on the motorway and not have to take some ridiculous winding way back to that middle of nowhere, or maybe I'll just carry on with my scenic route and stop beating myself up about it. That would be a start.

Z x

The Ex

The ex, someone who you hope you'll never have to meet, never mind deal with on an almost daily basis but when you're a stepparent you don't really get a choice, they come with the package along with the kids.

Most people would throw a fit if they knew that their partner was in daily contact with their ex, it's something I, and every other stepparent, has to accept and live with.

I know my partner only contacts his ex about his kids, however, that doesn't always make it any easier to accept. She is still there. Not gone like an ex should be, relegated to the back of the mind in the "well that was a mistake" drawer and forgotten about. Never mind brought along into the next relationship.

As a stepparent you also probably have to meet and at least be civil to your partners ex, although you'd probably rather punch them in the mouth. I know some stepparents who have never met their partners ex, but that's not me and I actually think that would be worse. At least I know who she is and she knows me so there are no stories passing between the houses via the kids, no backstabbing or wondering or getting the kids to ask questions to get the measure of each other.

I actually get on ok with her, which is weird, we should hate each other. right? This year she actually text me on Mothers Day with "Happy Mothers Day, thanks for doing such a good job with the kids when I'm not there" That was definitely weird, but kind of in a nice weird way. At least she recognises that I'm doing my best for her kids even though I sometimes feel that she see's me as free childcare. We also text each other about arrangements for the kids and if there are any issues, missing shoes, nits, homework. I do it because it makes my life easier, I like to be organised and know what is going on in my own home and what to expect when the kids arrive.

Sometimes however it goes to far, like when she rang me, drunk, when my partner was in hospital and talked about us all being one big happy clappy family. That's not going to happen. Ex's are only present in a stepparent's life because of the kids, nothing more. As the kids become adults I expect her presence in my life to diminish, although I appreciate that she will always be there even if just on the edge.

In my ideal world, she wouldn't be there at all, no ex would be. Apart from to laugh about and wonder if you were actually mentally deranged during that period of your life.

So although you may hate or be jealous of your partners ex, just be thankful that you don't actually have to know them, speak to them or make small talk with them. By all means carry on facebook stalking them for your own entertainment but be thankful they're not actually part of your life.

Z x

If looks could kill.....

If looks could kill, everyone I've even so much as glanced at today would be dead.

I'm not quite sure what caused this mood, everything and nothing I guess is the answer - yes, us women are impossible to understand! I'm mainly blaming it on a cold I've got, the disrupted sleep last night and probably some of those pesky woman hormones. Mostly the sleep thing tho, if I'm either hungry or tired woe betide anyone who crosses my path, just give me food, a brew and a bed and retreat to a safe distance.

Because of this mood I am also particularly annoyed with, well, everything. I shall list it all...
The kids for shouting, screeching and walking round the house like a herd of elephants this morning when all I wanted to do was sleep.
Every room in the house needs tidying and hoovering.
There are coco-pops across the living room floor.
The bathrooms need cleaning.
The beds all need to be stripped.
I haven't phoned my Gran for 2 weeks.
There is a never ending pile of washing.
My car is dead.
The garden needs weeding.
I haven't been home for too long.
The kitchen needs putting back together.
I had to play Nitty Nora the nit nurse this morning to my stepsons who both seemed to have been very successful at breeding the horrible little things.
The stepkids Mum for not dealing with the nit infestation herself, apparently not even noticing it.

Oh and myself, very annoyed with myself for being annoyed with all of the above because I shouldn't worry about it all, but I do.

Basically the only thing I'm not annoyed with is the cat, who is sat with me on the bed as I write this.

However I look at this list and have no motivation to do very much of any of it - I've stripped our bed and will hoover the living room later, that may be about it. Which makes me even more annoyed with myself especially as it's Monday tomorrow and I know I'll be pissed off with myself for wasting my Sunday by being in a mood! I don't even want to phone my Gran in case she can sense my mood over the phone which will make her worry about me.

ARGH!

I just want to curl up and cry, about nothing and everything, about just not feeling strong enough to do it all today.

I walked round Tesco earlier and had to bite my lip to stop myself from crying.

I'm crying now.

I will force myself to do some stuff off this list to stop myself from crying.

Sometime though I just have these days, hopefully some of you reading this have them too and it's not just me that needs sectioning.

I'll be fine tomorrow, I always am, but just now I'd just like to run away from the world.

Z x

Inspiration comes from the strangest places

I know I started this blog to follow my ups &downs, trials & tribulations as a Stepmother, but I thought I'd do this post to kind of explain as I ended up as one in the first place. Inspiration has come from Karen Danczuk of all people, which I find strange as she's not someone who I would normally see as a role model.... her blog post which inspired me can be found here,
http://selfiemadewoman.tumblr.com/post/128495508205/starting-again

Before I met my current partner and became a Stepmother, I was married. Yes, hence the inspiration from Karen.

Met in 2007, engaged 2010, married 2012, split (officially) 2013, decree absolute 07.07.2014.

What happened? Looking back now I know that I should never have married him in the first place. Life was coasting along fine, but that was it, coasting. We'd been together for 3 years before we got engaged, bought a house together, getting married and planing babies is just what you did next, isn't it? So that's what we did.

I was so caught up in the actual getting married bit, having my big day, huge white dress, flowers, guests, presents, all of it and more. I did have it all, but in the madness and excitement of planning it all I'd forgotten to actually think about who I was marrying and if he was the right man.

He wasn't.

There are lots of reasons why it wasn't right, but the final tipping point, the one that made my mind up that it was all wrong and there was no point in fighting, was when he accused me of changing and not being the same person anymore. Ask my friends, I've never changed, I've always been plain talking, ordinary, normal, average Zoe, just me. The worst part was him telling me he didn't like my home (Yorkshire), would never go there again and tried to blame me changing on my youngest brother being ill. In that moment I could have punched him. Hard (I didn't). Do NOT mess with my family or Yorkshire, I would kill for both, I love them more than anything.

This particular argument happened in Oct 2012, only 4 months into married life. Well done me I thought, done a great job here. How the hell do I clear this mess up? How do I get out? I was more worried about telling my Mum than anything else - she was fine once she knew this was what was right for me, obviously.

I went out with friends lots, worked late and drank lots, anything to avoid being in the same place as him, never mind the same house. I moved into the spare room with the cat.

There were lots of tears, behind closed doors, there were very few people that knew. I guess I was ashamed of being a failure (what I perceived to be a failure), crying over the mess and the wasted years rather than being upset over the end of the relationship.

Now I wish that I'd never said yes in the first place. But he proposed underneath the Eiffel Tower, on my birthday, with a Tiffany ring, what girl would say no?! I guess, also that I would have been worried about being a failure at that point too. Just a shame I wasted my dream dress and all that money on the wrong man.

I also wish I'd squeezed my Dad's hand as he walked me down the aisle, he'd told me on the way to the venue "If you change your mind, just squeeze my hand, we'll turn and run!" I knew he wasn't being serious, but I also know if I'd squeezed he would have run with me. It goes without saying that my Dad has been amazing throughout, never judging or questioning me, just being there and supporting me. He even offered to bring concrete wellies when he and my youngest brother came to help move my ex out.

However, I agree with Karen, if you're unhappy, leave. This life only comes along once and you're only here to make yourself happy, not everyone else, not to save face and do what is expected.

It's not easy, I know that. I was lucky to have such a good support network of friends close by who provided nights out, booze, listening, laughter and hugs. Also that my family just accepted it, not that I should have ever expected anything less from them. My middle brother made my cry when I told him (via text, I'm a wimp) as his reply was "As long as you're ok Sis" from that point I knew that I would be ok and that I'd come out the other side and still be me.

364 days after I got married my (now ex) husband moved out.

365 days after I got married my new partner moved in and I became a Stepmother.

Shit happens, but life moves on. Do whatever you need to do to be happy, sod what anyone thinks of you.

Z x

Love Actually?

It's been a while since I've blogged, life has been busy, but I've had this post forming in my head for a while, so here I am.

Love, it's a funny thing and something which is supposedly unconditional when it comes to your children, but what if the children aren't yours?

As I said in my last post, I told my other half right from the start that I would try and treat his kids as if they were my own. Did I mean love them as if they were my own too? I don't know. I do treat them in every other way as if they were my own, as much as I can.

Sometimes it all just gets too much and I have to escape and find some time for myself. At these times I try to remind myself that every biological parent feels like this at points, I shouldn't be telling myself to do better than them! Think about it, do your kids piss you off sometimes? Yes? Well guess what sometimes my stepkids piss me off too, surely that's no surprise.

But do I love them?
Yes, I do.

Do I love them as my own?
How on earth would I know that? I don't have any of my own to compare the feeling against. So I can only go with my heart (I always follow it) and say. No. But then again, how can I? They're not my own. Sometimes they do something that reminds me of me when I was a kid and I have to remind myself that they can't be like me. They're not part of me.

This doesn't mean I can float through this minefield of stepparenthood on a cloud of love and rose tinted glasses? No. I don't have those, they are reserved for biological parents, not stepparents. I struggle instead and try to tread the fine line and some days I want to scream and run away.

But on the whole, on a good day, I love them, actually.

Z x