I have to confess something: I faked it.
No, not sex. Never.
In journals, essays, and newspaper articles from the ‘80s and ‘90s (yes, I’m that old), I wrote about my life as if I were a mother. I talk about school lunches that I never packed. I wrote about PTA meetings, soccer games, and our teenager driving my car. For years, I wrote for a parenting newspaper, Bay Area Parent, covering all kinds of topics from the cost of having a baby to how to make a kid eat healthy food to juggling work and parenting. When I did interviews, I let my mom and dad interviewees think I was a parent just like them. Sometimes they asked questions about my pregnancies and my kids that forced me to admit I didn’t have any, but most of the time I got away with it.
I was parenting in a way, but it was “parenting lite.” My youngest stepson moved in with us when he was 12. Before that, he had stayed with us on weekends, holidays, and summer vacations. We enjoyed his company; then he went home. His older brother and sister were already off on their own so we saw less of them.
The live-in stepson could pretty much take care of himself. Although I was the one the school called when there was a problem and I was the one baking cookies for his Boy Scout meetings, most of the time I was free to work, sing, and socialize. Yet, when it was to my advantage, I let the world think I was a mom.
Was I really? More like a mom wannabe. We all got along, but it wasn’t exactly warm and fuzzy. It was very clear my husband’s children already had a mother and her name was not Sue. In “family photos,” this short, olive-skinned brunette obviously did not come from the same gene pool as these tall Nordic kids.
What if I had just said, “I don’t have any kids?” Was I afraid to declare my childless state and be kicked out of the mom club? Was I hoping step-parenting was close enough? Did I convince myself I was a mom? What about all those tears I shed as my fertile years dwindled away with no babies for me?
What stories do we tell ourselves? What stories do we tell other people? Why not just be honest?
I don’t have children and I wish I did.
I don’t have children and that’s all right.
I don’t have children. Sometimes I’m sad; sometimes I’m happy.
I have stepchildren, and I love them like my own.
I have stepchildren, and we don’t get along.
I have stepchildren, and I’m trying, but it’s hard.
I wrote those motherly essays and articles years before I started writing about childlessness. I don’t fake it anymore. When my husband died, his children stepped away. I would like to have them in my life, but I’m afraid it’s too late. Maybe I sucked at the whole motherhood thing because I’m obsessed with my work. Maybe they were as confused as I was about how to manage a stepfamily and they had no idea how much I wanted to be a mother.
So the question sits there: Was I pretending? Was it okay? A quick search online shows stepparents do not have the same legal rights as biological parents. Check out this piece, “The Harsh Realities of Stepparenting.” But we’re there, and we care. Doesn’t that count?
How about you? Are there times when you would rather people not know you are childless? Do you ever let the world think you’re a parent to your stepchildren or your pets or . . . ? Is that okay?
I welcome your comments.
Photo by Daria Andrievskaya on Pexels.com
Childless by Marriage 
When I was in grad school, I was a live-in nanny for a family with one little girl. They let me use their car to take their daughter on outings. Both parents worked full time. It started out with me just not correcting people who thought I was her mom and then we started a mom and little kids music class and I didn’t want to be the only nanny in the room and then it just sort of grew from there. It got really weird, and I ended up seducing the dad into an intense sexual affair. I lied to him and told him I was on the pill when I wasn’t using any birth control at all. I desperately wanted to be pregnant with his baby. I never got pregnant, even though we were having frequent sex for a year. The affair ended when she got pregnant with their second and out of jealousy I made sure she “surprised” us in the act in their bed. I am still deeply ashamed of the hurt I did to the entire family.
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My therapist told me it is very common for nannies and au pairs to develop a subconscious rivalry with and desire to replace the mother of the children they are caring for. When I was an au pair overseas after high school I flirted and teased the dad without mercy and thoroughly enjoyed wearing down his faithfulness to her bit by bit. I even lied and pretended to be a virgin the first time we had sex. I did no try to get pregnant with his baby — I had an IUD — but I did repeatedly get into conflicts with her so he could take my side. The mom wanted the kids to wear shoes (this was South Africa where going barefoot for children is common), so I lost their shoes. She said no sweets before supper so we had ice cream every day. I even gave her daughter her first haircut and left her sausage curls tied with yarn on the kitchen counter. And of course he always took my side and intervened for me no matter how angry she got. I was terribly wicked and all out of jealousy.
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I can understand why you might have faked having kids, if you were getting paid for articles that they might not have accepted from a non-parent. Especially as people seem to think non-parents don’t have opinions, or skills, or insight into parenting. Despite the fact that you were parenting your stepson – and it is definitely parenting, when they are teenagers or younger. But it’s honestly never crossed my mind to fake it.
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This story kinda relates. One of my best friends from college started a new job last year and she told me, “The worst mistake I made when I started this job was not making up any kids!” She went on to say she is always the first in the office and the last to leave the office because of her co-workers’ kids’ school and sports schedules. So there’s a point in favor of making up kids, hahaha.
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