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We weren’t programmed to love each other. Yet we do.
I can only imagine.
The pure joy.
Of seeing a child that you created, born.
I can only imagine.
The pure joy.
Of hearing a child you created, call you daddy.
I can only imagine those things. Because at the age of thirty-two, I have never experienced either.
And the truth is, I may never experience either.
And that’s ok.
For all the amazingness that I can only imagine would come with being a dad, I can say this: I think being a step dad is even more rewarding.
We weren’t programmed to love each other. Yet we do.
I fell madly in love with Michelle in High School. We were together for a year before she broke my heart. Eight years after that, we were reunited.
As we spoke early on, Michelle told me in no uncertain terms that I would need to love her daughter as much as I loved Michelle, if not more, if it were ever to work between us.
That mission was easily accomplished.
I can vividly remember that beautiful, sunny day that I first met her. I was so nervous as I waited for Michelle and her daughter to arrive at my condo. I knew that after eight years apart Michelle and I were going to make it work this time around. I knew that I would be meeting a little girl that I would be spending the rest of my life with.
What if she didn’t like me?
My anxiety was sky high. I felt like I was going to throw up.
And then, they arrived.
And.
I loved her instantly. ust as I knew that I would.
Michelle and I waited until the time was right, and we eventually told her daughter that Mommy and Johnny weren’t just friends, we were dating.
The story of my life does not simply consist of one love story. No, it consists of two.
Michelle. And my step-daughter.
Throughout the years the relationship between Michele’s daughter and I has grown to levels that even I, a man who has always wanted to adopt a child as opposed to having one biologically, could never have imagined.
We have been through the best of times together, and we have been through the worst of times together.
We have laughed together. We have cried together. We have grown together.
Together, we started a new life with Michelle.
Together, we enjoyed the happiness of a new family born.
Together, we saw our love, Michelle, fall sick to cancer.
Together, we saw her die.
And, yes, together—some way, somehow—we picked ourselves up. We dusted ourselves off. And, full of grief and fear, and through the loss of our everything, we moved forward.
The laughs we have shared, the tears we have shed, the hugs we have had.
The pure love and raw emotion behind so many of our experiences so powerful, that even the most articulate of words cannot do them any justice.
There is a special feeling that comes with taking care of a child you did not create.
We weren’t programmed to love each other. Yet we do.
There is a special feeling that comes with loving a child you did not create.
We weren’t programmed to love each other. Yet we do.
In my step-daughter, I see a child that I love with all of my heart. With all of my soul. My pride. My joy. The apple of my eye.
She is ‘step’, only in name. Never in my heart.
In me, I hope – and I believe—that my step-daughter sees a man who has always, and will always love her, and her mother. A man who has always treated them well. A man who has always put them first.
A man who has absolutely no obligation to her, but simply loves her for who she is. An amazing little girl that brightens his each and every day.
A man who she can love as a dad, even if the word ‘step’ will always be there.
My step-daughter doesn’t call me dad, or daddy. She has a biological father who she uses those words for.
No, she calls me Johnny. Or John Polo from Volo. Or yes, sometimes she is brutally honest with me and tells it like it is. Sometimes she calls me Butthead.
Alice
Michelle’s everything. Her pride. Her joy. Her love. Her life. Her everything.
Loving her. Raising her. Being there for her: These are the greatest honors of my life.
I am not a biological parent. I am a step parent.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
© Copyright 2017 John Polo
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Photo: Getty Images
Thank you for the article.
I don’t have any kids of my own, and I never will.
But I am fortunate to have a bunch of nieces and nephews, whom I have tried my best to be a close and active uncle to. I babysit, help out with homework, cook dinners and take them on adventures in forests and mountains.
And sometimes, I’ve had the fortune of one of them calling me “dad”
You are an an amazing stepfather. Emma is blessed to have you in her life!
You should not be using the child’s name!
Great article. My step daughter is 22 her mother and I have been divorced for quite a few years. She is in college and lives with me she is truly the Apple of my eye. During the divorce I was worried I would lose her it was after that I realized I was not her Mothers husband but rather her “Dad”.
Yup! While I wish, harder than ever, that I could turn back the clock and figure out a way to have somehow become a biological father, I’m extremely proud of everything about my stepson. I chose him, as a central part of why I chose the life I’m currently living. At age 5, I could tell that he was an awesome kid who would fulfill all of the things about raising I child I ever wished I could do. Was I ever right! Now at 18, he’s got his life in a kind of order that I could only ever… Read more »
“I can only imagine those things. Because at the age of thirty-two, I have never experienced either.”
I hear ya.
“For all the amazingness that I can only imagine would come with being a dad, I can say this: I think being a step dad is even more rewarding.”
I hear that too.
I have not ever spoken in these terms to date, but we are a special breed of man, and a pat on the back, for all we’ve let go, for all we’ve given, is well deserved.
Nice job of putting that into words, sir.
Hi DJ. Thank you for reading my piece and for the feedback!