I used to think Mother’s Day was a pretty straightforward occasion.
You celebrate your mum. You buy flowers, maybe a cake, post a nice photo on Instagram, and call it a day.
But life, as I’ve learned, doesn’t always follow straightforward definitions. Families don’t either.
This year, Mother’s Day feels a little different for me. My dad and stepmum are celebrating 10 years of marriage. It is a milestone that has made me reflect on what motherhood really means and who gets to be called “mum”.
While my stepmum didn’t give birth to me, in many ways that matter, she still shows up like one.
And I think that counts.
Losing my mum at 10 years old
My late mum passed away in 2002 when I was only 10 years old.
For a long time after that, it was just my dad raising three boys. He did the best he could.
As the eldest, I saw firsthand how he had to figure things out as he went along, probably carrying more than he ever let on.
Without a strong support network, he had to be the bedrock of the family and play both roles as a parent.
Somewhere along the way, we all just adapted to life as it was.
You don’t really “replace” a parent, so you learn to live around the absence.
By the time my dad told me he was ready to remarry in 2016, I was already in my mid-20s.
Which meant I had spent close to 15 years without a maternal figure at home.
You can imagine my shock and amusement when he told me he had met someone — and that things were moving quite quickly.
I mean, where did he even find time to date? I’d be lying if I said I took it in stride.
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There were questions. Doubts. A sense of protectiveness, maybe even scepticism.
Who was this person? What were her intentions? How would this change our family dynamic?
As the eldest, you feel a certain responsibility to “vet” the situation, even if no one explicitly asks you to.
At the same time, I had to remind myself: this wasn’t just about me.
My stepmum had never been married before. She was a career woman, a divorce lawyer, of all things (the irony), who had spent much of her life caring for her elderly father (who just celebrated his 97th birthday, God bless him).
Settling down wasn’t something she had prioritised.
And yet somehow, through what felt like a bit of serendipity (and some good old-fashioned matchmaking), she and my dad found each other.
And just like that, she found herself not only married but married into a family with fully grown children. If I needed time to adjust, I can only imagine how much more she did.
Building our relationship step by step
Our relationship didn’t happen overnight. There was no instant “mother-child” bond. No dramatic turning point where everything suddenly clicked.
Instead, our bond was built in small, almost unnoticeable moments.
At the start, there were walls on both sides, I think. A bit of awkwardness on my end. Definitely a bit of distance on hers.
You’re trying to figure out how much space to give, how much to step in, what’s appropriate and what isn’t.
My younger brothers were quite blasé about the whole situation.
But I know they definitely had their own opinions on the matter, which they kept to themselves.
But over time, we lowered our guardrails. We found common ground in the most unexpected way: My dad. Specifically, bonding over his quirks.
You see, my dad has this way of making unintentionally funny, self-deprecating jokes — the kind that you don’t know whether to laugh at or be concerned about.
My stepmum and I would exchange amused looks, sometimes laughing with him, sometimes gently at him. It became our shared language.
Somewhere in those small, everyday interactions, something changed. She stopped feeling like “my dad’s wife”. She started feeling like someone I could talk to.
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Supporting me like a friend
What I didn’t expect was how naturally she would step into a supportive role in my life. It was not in a way that felt forced, but in a way that felt… easy. I found myself confiding in her about relationship problems.
Family disagreements. Things I wouldn’t even bring to my dad.
And she would listen, not as an authority figure but almost like a friend who just happened to be a little wiser, a little more measured.
Gradually, she started fussing over us, like a mum would. But at the same time, she gives us space. She treats us like adults.
I remember when I first told my parents I wanted to move out and rent my own place.
My dad, understandably, was worried. There were questions about finances, stability and whether I was ready.
My stepmum? She didn’t question my decision. She didn’t make me feel like I needed to justify myself. She just… trusted me. And sometimes, that support means more than any lecture or advice.
A good wife to my dad
I also saw, up close, the kind of partner she is to my dad. A couple of years ago, my dad underwent triple bypass heart surgery. It was a difficult period for all of us. It was uncertain, emotional and draining in ways you can’t fully describe unless you’ve been there.
And through it all, she was there. Constantly.
Staying by his side in the hospital. Watching over him. Nagging him (lovingly) to follow the doctor’s orders. Making sure he ate properly, rested properly, recovered properly.
If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.
It was in those moments that I saw their relationship in its fullest form. It was not just companionship, but selfless commitment.
Even now, I see it in the little things: the way they bicker like a long-married couple. The way she insists he eats at home.
The way she worries, even when he brushes it off. I’m blessed to witness her love for my dad during my visits to my parents’ place.
It made me come to a realisation. For all the years my dad spent raising us alone, he probably missed being taken care of himself.
Having someone look out for him. And I’m grateful he found that again. To me, that’s priceless. I’m so glad my dad found his happiness and his own bedrock.
Not a stepmum, but a bonus mum
If you had asked me in my early 20s what I thought about having a stepmum, I probably wouldn’t have had a clear answer. It wasn’t something I had imagined for myself.
But life has a funny way of introducing people into your story when you least expect it. Sometimes, those people don’t fit neatly into traditional labels.
While she might not be my birth mum in the biological sense, I still think of her as one in all the ways it matter.
Because she shows up and chooses to care for us like her own. Over time, that choice becomes something just as meaningful.
This Mother’s Day, I’m reminded that the celebration doesn’t have to be limited to one definition of motherhood.
It can extend to the women who step into our lives in unexpected ways. Our teachers, aunts, mentors, and yes, stepmothers. They all deserve the recognition.
And for me, that’s more than enough reason to celebrate her this Mother’s Day.
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This article was first published in Wonderwall.sg.
Read the full article here
