“Bonus mom (or dad)” has become a popular way to refer to stepparents, but it doesn’t always fit the relationship. Here’s one stepmom’s take on parenting without a label.
As the mother of a biological child, I know the weight and honour of being called “Mom.” It’s a title earned through countless acts of love and labour, one that carries both pride and responsibility. After four years of building a relationship with my partner and becoming increasingly involved in his children's lives, I wanted something similar to acknowledge my love for and investment in my stepchildren.
“Bonus mom” seemed perfect. I’d heard it in parenting groups and on social media. It was a sunny, feel-good alternative to “stepmother,” which felt stiff, outdated and tainted by fairy-tale villainy. “Bonus mom” made it sound as if my arrival was an unexpected gift, a happy addition—like the surprise dessert that arrives at your table when you weren’t expecting it.
But as the months passed, the words began to feel off. Forced. Like I was trying to script a version of our family’s story that didn’t quite fit.
Why the Label “Bonus Mom” Felt Wrong
Blending a family is not easy work—especially when your stepchildren’s biological mom has died. Maybe this is why, at first, “bonus mom” felt like a bridge, something that might help us navigate these uncharted waters. But the reality was far messier than any cheerful label could contain. No title, no matter how warm or well-intentioned, could soften the loss. Calling myself a “bonus” was insensitive, as if I were trying to turn their grief into something palatable. It was a term that made me more comfortable but made them uncomfortable. The truth was that my place in their world was complicated. I wasn’t a replacement. I wasn’t an upgrade. I was simply another adult who loved them.
Investigating Our Cultural Urge to Rename Hard Things
Once I noticed my discomfort with “bonus mom,” I started seeing the pattern everywhere. As a society, we love tidy language—I did too. We talk about “blended families” instead of acknowledging the fault lines that merging lives can create. We call painful medical treatments “journeys,” as if naming them that might make them more bearable. We reach for new words because the old ones feel too heavy. But sometimes, in softening the edges of our words, we erase the truth. And frankly, real life can be jagged and beautiful. Once we move beyond the binary of good or bad, happy or sad, we can hold space for complex feelings to coexist. In my case, “bonus mom” was my way of trying to skip past the hard part, to make stepparenting in a grieving family look like a Hallmark Christmas movie instead of what it was: complex, raw and sometimes lonely, but also oftentimes joyful and beautiful.
Loving Without a Title
Eventually, I stopped introducing myself as anything other than Jamie. Over time, “stepmom” has become less of a title and more of a fact, like being five-foot-five and having brown hair. It just is.
Some days, I feel close and connected. We share inside jokes, cook dinner together, and I see the trust we’ve built. Other days, I feel like I’m standing just outside the family photograph, close enough to be part of the picture but never fully in the frame. This is the truth about step-parenting after loss: You live in the tension between belonging and not belonging. For me, the trick was to stop expecting the title to carry the weight of the relationship.
The Guest Room in My Heart
If there’s one metaphor I keep returning to, it’s this: My love for my stepchildren lives in a guest room in my heart. It’s a space that’s entirely theirs if they want it, but it’s not the room they grew up in. I can keep it warm and welcoming, but I can’t force them to stay in it, and I can’t redecorate it in a way that erases history. That room will always have a door they control. Most days, they crack the door open, inviting me in for a laugh, a kitchen dance party or a car-ride confession. Other days, it stays closed. My job is to keep the hallway light on, no matter the day.
What I’ve Learned Since Dropping “Bonus Mom”
Dropping the “bonus mom” label didn’t make my role as stepmom easier; it just made it more honest. I learned that naming something doesn’t make it real, and in the same vein, not naming it doesn’t make it disappear. The real work is in showing up, day after day, without expecting a title to validate my place. My worth as a stepmom isn’t measured by what I’m called, but by my consistent presence in their lives. I can do the school runs, help with homework, book the dentist appointments and still not be “Mom.” But that’s okay because the goal was never to replace. The goal was to love.
I still don’t have a perfect word for what I am to my stepchildren, and maybe I never will. But I’ve learned that the absence of the label doesn’t diminish the love I feel or the commitment I’ve made. It might make both stronger.
I’m not a bonus. I’m not a villain. I’m Jamie—and that’s enough.
