BECAUSE THE HEART HAS ROOM FOR ALL

How my blended family taught me that parenthood isn't about who came first—it's about who stays, cares and makes love feel endless

- Aarushi Ahluwalia

The three of us were sitting on a bench in the park, sipping on a terrible green juice after a workout.

Sometimes healthy choices feel good, and then there are times when holding an unholy decoction of wheatgrass, gooseberry and pineapple just fits the image of three sweaty women in yoga pants. As we cooled off, my friend Ananya began to talk about her ex-husband’s new partner. “It seems like the relationship is serious,” she said, masking her discomfort with bravado, “He introduced her to our daughter and they’ve been spending time together.”

“How do you feel about that?” I asked her, as our friend Swati, the only childless member of the group sat up to pay attention.

“She is my daughter, that’s all that matters,” Ananya said, undoing her hair, “He can introduce her to whomever he likes, but she is mine; she knows where her loyalties lie.”

Ananya and her husband had been separated before divorcing a year earlier. Their daughter was seven at the time, and they shared custody—an arrangement eased by the fact that they lived close to each other and maintained a cordial relationship, despite some lingering resentment.

“I don’t think you need to worry,” Swati said to Ananya, “She'll see the new woman as a friend; you will always be her real mother.”

People use the word ‘real’ a lot—for parents, products, love or faith—perhaps because the implied exclusivity reassures us, emotionally, but it made me wonder how my friends viewed my situation.

“Is that how you guys feel about me?” I asked, a lowered tone betraying my otherwise emotionless delivery, “Do you think I am not my stepson’s real parent?”