Michelle was born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome.  Her biological mother was an alcoholic and drank heavily all day, every day, while she was pregnant. Sadly, with every swill of Wild Turkey and drunken fall her mother took, Michelle was forced to take it right along with her.  

When Michelle’s father and I were married, this underdeveloped, droopy eyed, munchkin-looking little girl was 5 years old.  I wanted to love her.  I wanted to make up for her mother’s neglect and selfishness and allow her to thrive in a world of encouragement, love and understanding.

The symptoms of FAS are many, too long to list here, but I will list a few that were prevalent in Michelle:

  • Growth retardation
  • Central nervous system problems, including: mental retardation, hyperactivity, and delayed development of gross motor skills such as rolling over, sitting up, crawling and walking
  • Decreased birth weight
  • Delayed development of fine motor skills such as grasping objects with the thumb and index finger and transferring objects from one hand to the other
  • Problems learning

Her physical appearance was not that of a normal 5-year-old, but all my husband saw was a beautiful brown-eyed Princess. He held her above all others, completely in love with his precious, first born baby girl, and I loved that about him.

I had a 2-year-old son from a previous relationship, and as we began to try to mesh our “blended” family together, it quickly became evident to me that my plans to provide a loving and supportive home were going to be far more difficult than I had anticipated.

Could this sweet, innocent and giggly little girl I had so eagerly taken under my wing be the manipulative, selfish, contemptuous, little brat revealing herself to me now?  Was I misreading the situation, or did I have a shard of glass from the Snow Queen’s mirror in my eye?

She was an instigator and a master of the “set up.” Upon entering a room where she and my son were playing, I would always find some sort of ungodly mess to clean up; a cup of juice spilled all over the carpet, my son’s lunch being scarfed up by our family dog, book pages torn out and my son in tears. Without fail, Michelle would point the finger of blame at my son. 

A pattern was unfolding before my eyes and there was no fairy tale trickery involved; Michelle was the evil step-sister and daughter, but who would ever believe me? She was 5 and “special,” dealing with a new mom, brother and home. Wasn’t this just the acting out phase?  

I knew better. This was different; it was pre-meditated and vicious to the point I was now worried she would harm my son during one of her many violent tantrums. My husband, Doug, coddled and pampered Michelle either out of guilt, or perhaps because he just didn’t want to believe what I was telling him. My son was always the culprit because “he’s 2!”  

Things escalated quickly, and Michelle upped her game in a big way. She actually shit on the kitchen floor. That’s where she made her first mistake. There was no possible way my son, still in diapers, took his diaper off, shit on the floor and re-diapered himself!  This removed any doubt in my mind that my assessment of her mission was dead on.

She was a holy terror during the day while Doug was at work.  Her diabolical and well-planned attacks on my sanity were working.  I spent my days frazzled, screaming and coming apart at the seams.  She was hell on wheels and only 5!  When Doug came home from work, she would run to him, clutching his leg, greeting him with a smile and “I love you, Daddy!” in complete contradiction to the tormentor she had been all day. Often, her next comment would be “I love Mommy so much!” All I could think to myself watching and hearing this was…. you little bitch! Game on!

OMG!  Was I really engaging in a war with a 5-year-old, FAS kid?  Surely not.

Doug absolutely refused to believe my tales of daytime horrors, so we went to a family counselor. Things had gotten much worse, and I was ready to leave. This was not only affecting me but my son who was bearing witness to the undoing of his mother.  Michelle had been to all the medical professionals and was nowhere near ready for school, so I was stuck at home with a manipulative monster. I relayed to the therapist during my part of the session that although only 5, I fully believed she knew exactly what she was doing.

Michelle was employing the old ‘divide and conquer’ method hoping Doug and I would divorce. She would then have daddy all to herself and could resume her rightful place as Queen in his life. In Michelle’s mind, I had taken her spot in her daddy’s life, and the role of Princess to my Queen was not acceptable to her.

Doug and Michelle each got one on one time with the therapist during our several sessions there. When our sixth session was about to conclude, she sent Michelle out to play in the waiting area and spoke to Doug and I very frankly. I braced myself fully expecting to be, at the very least, admonished for not only my horrible parenting skills but for thinking that a 5-year-old, FAS child could be this diabolical. The therapist looked at us and said, “Doug, Michelle is doing everything she can to end your marriage, and if you do not present a united front with your wife, it won’t be long before she succeeds.”

With the help and support of the therapist, I felt equipped with the necessary skills to stay a while longer to try and make things work. It continued to be an exhausting uphill battle. Doug felt “ganged up on” since the therapist was a woman and had dared to speak out against the Princess. There was no united front, nothing from him but disdain and resentment. With each specialist we saw, the prognosis got worse and Doug’s behavior toward her grew from coddling and babying to actually pitying her. The doctors all told us she would never ride a bike, never roller skate, never be able to do any sort of math or reading, never have normal relationships or friendships, never be able to live independently, and would always need special care.

I called BULLSHIT!

I took my rightful place as Queen on my throne and showed no mercy.  Doug doled out enough of that for an entire kingdom. The following year she went to Kindergarten.  She entered the hallowed halls of Crayola and Play-Doh and although a bit behind, seemed to enjoy cutting, pasting and gluing her way through her four-hour class. 

It wasn’t long before she found these tasks tedious and decided to stretch her wings a bit.  She became pushy and overbearing toward her classmates and would resort to throwing serious tantrums when she didn’t get her way. The other children didn’t follow her commands or manipulative directives and would just walk away from her, seeking out a fun activity or return to their familiar friends. She did her best with the teacher to play the “I’m disabled” card, and that didn’t fly either.

The only reason she knew this word, and what it meant, was through my husband. Doug had been desperately trying to get disability for Michelle, but she was so functional the application was denied.  He despised me for this.  Why he would rather see his daughter sitting at home with a drool bib on fulfilling the predictions of the doctor’s I have no clue, other than it would prove me wrong. 

Fast forward to five years later – Michelle was 11, my older son was 7 and we now had a little boy who was 2. It was nothing short of a war zone in my home every single day.

I MADE her learn math.  I MADE her read.  I MADE her bathe herself.  I MADE her brush her teeth.  I MADE her dress herself.  I MADE her do chores just as my 7-year-old did.  Despite her age and capabilities, everything was a battle no matter how many times we went through it.  She never tried to be cooperative and accept the fact that this basic, daily routine was getting done even it took all night, which it often did. 

Doug and I no longer spoke. He thought I pushed her too hard and fought me every step of the way. She played Doug’s pity card well and realized she had accomplished her mission to divide and conquer. It was a house divided; Michelle and Doug against the evil step-mother and “the boys.”  I had to face the harsh reality that my husband was never going to support my efforts to see Michelle reach her full potential.  They say to choose your battles in life and I only had the strength to fight one. I chose to fight for Michelle because in the end, I knew she and I would both win.

She was in Special Ed and did fairly well due to my diligent tutoring/torture sessions.  It was a great relief to have her out of the house and learning in an environment by teachers who were not so easily manipulated. At home, once her chores were done and the screaming was over, I took her out and taught her how to ride a bike, swim, roller skate, bowl and so many other activities all the other children in the neighborhood participated in.  All of these accomplishments were hers, but none came without her hitting, biting, scratching, spitting, cursing, fighting and hating me all the way.

In the end:

  • Michelle graduated High School and landed her first job at Roy Rogers.
  • Her next job was in the US Treasury Department sorting mail.  She had full benefits.
  • She had her own checking account that she maintained on her own.
  • She taught herself how to navigate the bus and Metro system to get to work and back.
  • She learned how to ice skate and won several medals in the Special Olympic Games.
  • She now lives in an apartment in Colorado, a place she had always dreamed of going.
  • She has two volunteer jobs, one in a nursing home and one at an animal shelter
  • She has a cat named Chloe.
  • She still takes care of her personal finances but has a financial custodian that manages her inheritance from her father’s death (He died in 2006 from cirrhosis of the liver from years of alcohol abuse).
  • She has many friends.
  • She is engaged to be married.
  • She is very happy.

It doesn’t bother me that she never speaks to me or has never thanked me for all I did to help her become the person she is today.  I knew soon after our lives intersected that my role was not to “mother” her or for her to love me.  My role was to teach her to believe she could accomplish anything she set her mind to.  It was about her becoming a person capable of love and being loved, a person who understands that the world does not revolve around her and that relationships are give and take.

So sorry, I’m not sorry.

She is 37 now. My boys hear from her occasionally but remain distant and a bit resentful of all she put me and our entire family through.  I tell them it was my choice, but like me, they know she didn’t have to make it so hard on herself and everyone else in the family. She did know better. She did it to win her throne back, but it wasn’t her time or place to rule.

Michelle will never understand the sacrifices that were made not only by me but my son’s to push her to become the person she is today. She will never appreciate all the long hours dedicated to building her confidence and developing her problem solving skills.  She will never fully embrace the gift given to her by her step brothers and mother; the gift of time.  Time they had to give up with me so that I could work with her each and every night instead of reading to them or taking them out for an ice cream cone.  Each milestone she met came with a price that the rest of us had to pay. 

I do not regret fighting for her–or as she perceives it, fighting with her.  I do regret my boys having to give up a large piece of their mom for her to succeed. There is still anger and resentment on their part now that they are all grown but they understand why I did what I did. She has now taken her place sitting as Queen on her own throne.  She lives in a lovely town in the place she always dreamed of going, the heavenly Rocky Mountains of Colorado.  She may hate me but I can say she is definitely loving life.

At this point in her life, I believe that she is fully aware of the sacrifices we all made on her behalf but refuses to acknowledge them. I am sure I spent an abundance of time teaching her the lesson of humility and the importance of saying thank you. But she has never uttered the words thank you–thank all for caring enough about me to help me become the person I am today.

For that, she should be sorry.

 

About the author: Mary Mclaurine writes the blog The Heart of a Sassy Lassie.

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Wannabe's are Guest Authors to BLUNTmoms. They might be one-hit wonders, or share a variety of posts with us. They "may" share their names with you, or they might write as "anonymous" but either way, they are sharing their stories and their opinions on our site, and for that we are grateful.

24 Comments

  1. Jenn Solivais Reply

    It is sad that she never realized or acknowledged the love and help she was being shown but it does no good to dwell on that.

    You gave her the tools that would help her succeed when others were determined she could only fail.

    Much love to you and thank you for not giving up when it would have been very easy to ❤

    • Thanks, Jenn. I see many pics of her on FB and she is very happy. She tries to weedle her way into my life by Friend Requesting me sometimes but it always regarding some drama about my two boys she wants to stir up. I don’t engage. She has her life and I feel like her brothers and I have given enough of ours to her to last her the rest of her life. They don’t interact with her either but that is totally their own choice. I have always told them to do what they feel is best with regard to her.

  2. Holy f*ck you’re amazing – thanks for sharing this. Did you ever just lash out and punch the little beyotch (after she was an adult, before her dear dad kicked the bucket?) If not, you are even more amazing!

    • Only verbally. She and I had so many physical rounds when she was growing up that I had no desire, nor did I then, to engage physically. That being said, none of my kids were going to hit me and get away with it, no way. She thrives on drama and manipulation and one her dad died and I knew she was well cared for, that was it for me, forever and always.

  3. Mary, with each piece I read of yours and the more I get to know you, the more I can say I just absolutely adore and love you to death. You are truly one strong woman and admire your strength more than you could ever know. You.Are.Amazing.

    • I’m gonna be blunt, your post reeks of narcissism and I don’t blame your stepdaughter one bit and you deserved to be treated like that, if you can’t handle it don’t dish it out.

  4. One day, the depth of what you’ve truly done for her will hit her. Perhaps it’ll happen when she becomes a parent, herself, but whenever it does, she will be very sorry. She might be far too ashamed to ever admit to you or anyone else, but she will feel it. You’re the reason she is where she is – she would have gotten there by no other means (if she would have even made it that far, anyway). You did right by her.

    • Thanks, Alison. I am fairly certain she knows exactly what was done for her, not only by me, but her two brothers. She is very snarky and tries desperately to spark drama between my sons still to this day. None of us are friends with her on FB anymore for just this reason. She has gone her way and we’ve gone ours and I’m sure that’s the way it will remain. She still has that, “I won” attitude which infuriates me because we are still suffering a lot of emotional fall out from it all. I appreciate you reading and leaving a comment full of kind words and support! <3

  5. WOW. What an amazing woman you are to take on such a difficult journey to help this little girl, with all the resistance and conflict around it all- and the sacrifices you made with not only your marriage, and your kids, but YOUR time and YOUR energy FOR YEARS to teach her everything she needed, to become a productive and thriving adult now.

    Such a shame that she won’t even acknowledge that. Bravo for YOU, because in the end- you know. And I’m sure your boys do too.

    • Thanks so much, Chris. It certainly isn’t something I recommend for everyone dealing with a FAS child, like any illness, there are varying degress and circumstances but in my case, it became clear very early on that this was the only way to handle her. It does my heart good to know she is happy and thriving. Had I chosen another way, his way, I would be full of regret. Forgiveness is a lesson a learned a long time ago and while it is difficult, it is life saving to just let the anger and resentment go. Like you so astutely pointed out, I know, my boys know and trust me, to a great degree, she knows. She is a stubborn girl/woman and she just won’t ever come out and say it but that’s ok. I so appreciate you reading and commenting!! <3

  6. Wow,you have strength and patience beyond words. How hard it must be to dedicate your life to someone so unloveable and unwilling, I can take a hard lesson from the pages of your book on how to love. Thank you for your blunt honesty here.

    • Shawna, honestly, it was extremely difficult but I am also a firm believer that thing happen in our lives, people come in and out, for a reason. I appreciate your words so much! She is loving with other people in her life which I am glad to see. My job, as I wrote, was not to mother her but to teach her. It is a shame that we cannot have a realationship now but I remain open should the time ever come when she wants to be honest with me and not just try and weedle into my life with made up drama and manipulation. I will know when it is real. Thanks for reading and for commenting, the comments make the writing so rewarding. 🙂

  7. Wow, you are such a strong person and Michelle was very lucky to have you around! But is it in appropriate to ask if you and your husband ever reconciled?

    • Hi, Kasey!

      Thank you for reading and commenting. No, not at all. We did not reconcile. So much damage had been done to our relationship over and above our problems with Michelle that it was impossible. He passed away 6 years ago and I did move into his condo with my two boys and Michelle to help him until he was ready to go to hospice. I wanted to teach my boys forgiveness as my husband was awful to me when we split. It’s all about forgiveness and moving forward. <3

  8. You are truly amazing. I have an issue with two of my soon to be step daughters, but it doesn’t come close to what you endured. Even though what I experienced is on a much much smaller scale than what you have experienced, I want to say thank you for writing this. Your piece gives me confidence that my decision to walk away from the drama was the right thing to do. Thank you!

    • Hi Michele,

      I appreciate your comment and am sorry you have issues. It is a very difficult situation because often times when we take on children that are not “ours”, they are coming with a lot of their own baggage and resentment toward the new parent, are overwhelmed without the emotional skills to deal with it all and often times the new parent is as well. I believe there does come a time when we have to save ourselves, we cannot sacrifice everything we have. I hope you have found some peace and are happy in life now <3

  9. I am a stepmother (to all girls). There are no words that are worthy of the emotions I experienced while reading this post. It’s so trite, but I thank you for what you did for that child, now adult woman experiencing a joy in her life she could have never known without you. You deserve so much more than you received.

    • Heather, thank you so much! I really do get some joy in knowing that I did the right thing and that she is thriving. I’m glad she lives far from me, I cannot deal with her manipulations or drama any longer but take great comfort knowing she is ok. I was in a relationship not too long ago for 12 years and the man had a daughter who was 13 when we came into each others lives. I had a wonderful experience raising her, she is a wonderful young woman now with two wee one’s of her own. So many “step” situations are wonderfu and rewarding and I hope that is your case!! Thanks so much for your lovely words!

  10. So…what’s the story you’re NOT telling? As a person who unfortunately grew up with a stepparent, I can tell you that there is no worse hell than having a relationship forced on you and being powerless to do anything about it. I also know that parents in general can be master manipulators. Although you want your readers to think that you were a victim, a sacrificial lamb, and a hero, but there are TWO sides to this story. Having spent most of my adult life dealing with children in special education, I am very aware of how manipulative these children AND their parents can be. However, your title was a red flag for me. Using the words “I don’t care…” with respect to any child tells me that you shouldn’t have been dealing with that child in the first place. Children are human beings and they have feelings just like you. How were YOU being manipulative in that relationship? It seems like you were very concerned about being “the queen” and being in control. Were you helping this child for her or for you? Were you helping her so that later on everyone would think you were a hero? Although you have painted this child as a villain, were your sons angels? Did you not take your anger and resentment out on this child? I’m asking these questions because there are a lot of holes in this story. Unfortunately, many parents have this “I don’t care” and “I’m doing you a favor by raising you” attitude. YOU walked into that marriage and for those who are not stepparents, YOU had that child. YOU dragged them into YOUR mess. For those parents who are always saying “I don’t care” about this and “I don’t care” about that, just live a little while longer. You’ll have to come crawling to those same children when you get older. Let that thought marinate.

      • Wow thanks for sharing! I read the entire story and I can relate. You really stuck it out in the toughest circumstances! I don’t know if I would have made it.
        Although my story isn’t as bad, I am a stepmom of two girls and usually enjoy it but the youngest daughter constantly tries to blame me for everything and manipulates me especially when her father is gone. It’s so strange to me because I truly love her like my own but I am always being challenged to put it nicely. And I truly think she hates me. She puts me down and mocks everything I say or do. She is also like this with her sister but not nearly as bad.
        She has mental issues , depression and has recently come out of the closet. And honestly there is always something wrong with her an injury, headache, backache, watery eyes, panic attacks, you name it. It’s exhausting!! Many times I think it is to get out of doing things, chores, going to church, school and so on. I have been accepting of all of this as much as one can but I do practice tough love. When I say this, I mean she Is expected to participate in life, do chores, be respectful ect, however she still finds ways to get out of things especially with her mom’s influence.
        Each time I try to help her and take her to counseling she always finds something to get very upset with me about. I feel even though I am very understanding I can’t win. I am the parent that does all the running around (doc’s, school, friends and anything she needs) and there is never any thanks from her. She has literally made me depressed at times and I am a very happy person.
        I asked her why she doesn’t respect me and she says she relates with her mother better because she also has mental issues Bi-polar and Aspergers. Also she wants to live with her mom now and I’m afraid that if she does she may get worse. Any suggestions on how to handle this?

  11. What an amazing person you are. I have a similar situation but don’t have the strength you had. I can no longer communicate effectively with my 20 year old step daughter, mainly for protection because even when I’m trying really hard with her she still looks for every opportunity to undermine me with her dad, and I find it so draining that I have backed off, but this is not effective either. I wish I had your strength.

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