I Remember...and it makes me sad.

I've been reading some other stepfamily blogs this morning and it made me a little sad. I was remembering the super close relationship my stepdaughter and I used to share.

I remember when my stepdaughter would come in the front door after my husband would pick her up. I would hear her little feet running through the house asking, "Where is Cole?" When she'd find me, I'd have this little girl running into my arms. Eventually, I became "Momma Cole" and then "Mom" and then my full first name because her mother's fits were too much for a child to deal with.

I remember Friday night was girls night where, after we would put the younger kids to bed, my stepdaughter and I would spend time together, just the two of us, doing craft activities together.

I remember my stepdaughter telling me that whenever we would call for them, their mother would get an angry look on her face.

I remember my stepdaughter telling me that if they talked to us while at their mom's house, she would stop playing with them and look mad. I remember after that all the times they stopped picking up the phone when we'd call or the times they would hang up on my daughter when she'd call them. Not even our children were allowed a relationship with their siblings when they were with their mom.

I remember a girl who would beg not to have to go back to her mother's house, wanting to stay with us.

I remember a girl who would climb into my lap for hours because she was sad about leaving.

I remember when my stepdaughter told me that her maternal aunt told them that our house was haunted by serial killer ghosts and that I was going to hell. I remember how scared she was. I remember easing her fears and then the ex's excuses for her sister's behavior when we went to her about it for trying to scare the kids away from our house.

I remember a girl who would cry in the bathroom for hours when we'd meet at my stepson's swim meets for the exchange because she didn't want to go back to her mother's house. I remember a girl telling her mother, when she tried to go into the pool bathroom to talk to her, to get out. She didn't want her mom; she wanted her stepmom and dad.

I remember telling my stepdaughter that her mother loved her too, always being careful not to badmouth her mother in any way (even though there was plenty to badmouth).

I remember all the times my stepdaughter would tell us something negative her mother had said about me, their dad, our home, etc.

I remember their mother crying when my husband would pick the kids up. I remember seeing her standing at the end of her driveway while we pulled away, crying. I remember how much it worried the kids to see her like that.

I remember the courts telling her she had to stay in the house and to quit doing that to the kids. I remember that she didn't listen.

I remember them telling me that she told them that she cried without them.

I remember when they started to worry about leaving their mother alone.

I remember the day their mother stood on my front porch, sobbing and clinging to my stepdaughter, not wanting to give her up to spend any time with their dad and dad's family. I remember how much it hurt my stepdaughter.

I remember my stepson as a toddler telling me, "Mommy is at home crying without me. I have to go home."

I remember my tween stepdaughter talking about suicide, wanting a car accident to kill her, so she didn't have to worry about her mother anymore.

I remember after that point the emotional distance my stepdaughter put between herself and us. The therapist said it was for her own protection, to protect herself from her mother's behavior/manipulations. I remember understanding. I also remember that it still hurt.

I remember all the love, hugs, and kisses. I remember how close my stepdaughter and I used to be and it makes me so sad to know that is gone now, that a person who was supposed to love them (their mother) manipulated them and hurt them out of insecurity and jealousy.

I thought it wouldn't hurt after the past couple of years of it being that way. I thought wrong. It still hurts.