The most common response I get when introducing my children is behind-the-scenes calculation while they try to figure out just how young I was when the oldest was born. Depending on who it is and how much time I have, I sometimes just let them think I was a mere 15-year old sophomore in high school when Derek was born. It’s even worse now that he is off in the Army. I don’t care that they think I was a young mom, honestly. Sometimes that is better than them thinking I am not a “real” mom because I didn’t carry him for nine months in my body.

Have you ever had that happen? Someone finds out your “just” the stepparent and you suddenly haven’t had the experiences that make you a mom? It’s the worst feeling, I think, to be disregarded so terribly. No, I wasn’t there when Derek was born 21 years ago. I wasn’t with him that first week in the hospital when he almost died of a blood infection in a hospital on an Air Force base in Germany.

By the time I came into the kids’ lives, Derek was 10. Way too old, in his opinion, to need “mothering.” I wasn’t there from the beginning. I guess, in some peoples’ eyes, it means I am not the “real” mom. I was there, though, when Derek needed a soccer coach, was there when he broke his arm, was the one who helped him write his first resume. I was the one who watched him graduate from high school, and cried when he left for basic training. I am the one who loses sleep at night thinking about him going to Iraq in a few months.

It wasn’t my body that carried the twins, or had to be on bed rest the last two months await their arrival. I wasn’t the one who had to have a c-section and then learn within hours of the birth that one was a perfectly healthy little girl while the other suffered from Down syndrome. I wasn’t the one who laid in bed those first few years and wondered what kind of life Kyle would have with the challenges he would have to face.

Kyle, 6 chronologically, was no more than 12 months developmentally. He was a baby—still in diapers, still needing help being fed, still needing to be lifted into the car and pushed in a stroller. I wasn’t there from the beginning, but I was there when he had surgery that allowed him to hear for the first time. I was there when he broke his leg and I had to push him in a wheel chair because he couldn’t walk on crutches. I was there when he learned how to write his name and have watched as he has grown into a fine young man.

Kira was 6, too. She made my heart ached for how much she missed her mom and how desperately she wanted me to like her — but how threatened she was that I might take her Dad, her only lifeline. She was so sweet and so insecure and so unsure of her future. I wasn’t there from the beginning, but I was there when she worried over her looks, when she cried for her mother — and when she stopped crying for her. I was there for the first boyfriend, the first bra, and the first period. I was there when she joined her first cheer team, had her first fight with her best friend, and when she lost someone she loved to an early death.

Even more important than being there for all the major events, like other stepmoms out there, I was there for all the mundane parts of life too. I was there when the kids were sick and we had to cancel our plans at the last minute. I was there when Mom flashed back into their lives for a moment and all they wanted was her.

The great thing, though, is that I am still here. I am the one Derek writes to when he is homesick. I am the one Kira comes to when she has troubles with boys. I am the one Kyle trusts, and the only mom he remembers. I’ve been there for the food fights (and started some), for the laughter and joy, for all of the small moments that count so much. I’ve watched my two biological children bond with my stepchildren without even a thought of different lineage. We’re family. We eat at the same table, share the same home, and have the same mannerisms. It’s not about the blood. It’s about heart. The next time someone makes you feel like you’re not “real” because you didn’t give birth, just remember that.