After weeks of my daughter crocheting caps for sick kids, we returned home the day my husband left on a business trip to discover that all of her hard work had been abandoned, and my mother-in-law was standing in the doorway, acknowledging that she had thrown everything away. She believed she’d won, but she didn’t count on what my husband did next!
The father of my daughter, who is ten years old, died when she was only three years old. It was us against the world for years.
After that, I wed Daniel. He reads Emma’s favourite stories to her every night, helps with projects, and packs lunches for her as if she were his own.
He’s her dad in every manner that matters, but his mother, Carol, has never seen it that way.
She once said to Daniel, “It’s cute that you act like she’s your real daughter.”
Another time, she added, “Stepchildren never feel like true family.”
Last but not least, “Your daughter reminds you of your dead husband. That must be hard.” This statement always made my blood swim.
