I miss the shape of his fingers and toes.

I miss the smell of the top of his head and his morning breath.

I miss the magic tricks, the play-pretend and goofy dancing.

I miss the puppy-dog eyes and pouty face he’d make to get his way — his big brown eyes as deep as the cosmos.

I miss the way he’d hold my hand when he was just telling me a story.

I miss his laughing fits that made it impossible to understand his story.

I miss the bedtime stories; bedtime warning; countdowns, time outs, tickle fights, comforting hugs, boo-boo kissing and singing Raffi kid songs.

I miss him sucking his thumb and staring out the car window from his car seat.

I miss slowly watching his thumb fall out of his sleepy mouth.

I don’t think he sucks his thumb anymore. I don’t know.

I miss my step kid so much, it hurts.

He came into my life when he was 2 years old. I met him at a playground when I first began hanging out with his biomom. I gave him a little purple car that I bought as a belated birthday gift. He fell at the park, and I immediately jumped up to comfort him. We’d been inseparable ever since.

By 4 years old, and with the permission of his biomom/my then girlfriend, he was calling me mama. Every single time his baby voice said mama, my heart melted.

Yes my baby? I love you so much. What do you need?

He was my baby boy that she gave birth too, and the first child I ever had. I taught him how to ride a bike and skateboard. We’d read bedtime stories and do hugs and kisses together, every single night. We’d play catch, basketball, kickball, cook together and make so many messy kitchen experiments. We became family. I gave whatever I could financially, emotionally, logistically, and mentally, and I feel no loss for it. I would do it all again for him. 

Years later, I married his bio mother. We were married for 4 years before I asked for a divorce. I begged to stay in his life. Losing him was always my biggest fear, a fear she knew all about, and it came true.

He just turned 11yrs old, and it’s his first birthday without me since he was 2yrs old. Heartbroken doesn’t even begin to capture what I’m experiencing. I know that time heals, and I already hate it. Everyday that I am healing is another day of not being in his life.

-- Enby