You came into my daughter’s life when she was seven. We met for the first time at her eighth birthday party. English wasn’t your first language, but your smile was genuine. You knew my daughter liked drawing, and you gave her colouring pencils and a book; I was touched by the thoughtfulness.
You accepted, from the start, that she was part of the deal; your relationship with her dad would always be shared. Wednesday nights and every other weekend she came to you. She joined you on holidays, and sometimes when, frazzled from battling with her, I’d call her dad for respite. You offered me empathy and kindness. You could have resented it, but you welcomed the opportunity to help.
You took her home to Poland with you, where your family embraced her as their own. Your mother didn’t speak any English, but she and my daughter bonded through smiles and chicken soup. When you married my daughter’s dad, you made sure she felt included. You bought her a beautiful dress, and the two of you had your hair and makeup done together.
You navigated the difficult teenage years with calm resilience. You kept boundaries in place even when she pushed them. You knew consistency was important, and you’d call me to check on curfews and ground rules. It can’t have been easy dealing with a teenager who wasn’t your own, working out how far to involve yourself and when to step back. I know at times it pushed your patience to the limit, especially when she questioned your authority, yet you held in there, and strengthened your bond with her through your quiet, unswerving support.
When you became pregnant, I wondered if having your own children would change things, but you invited her to your scan and included her in choosing names, and when the twins were born, she was the first at your bedside. You told me then that there was a term in Polish that meant “patchwork family”. You said that was us.
She’s 18 now. It’s 10 years since you came into her life. You have steered your relationship through changing, often choppy, waters, with patience and kindness. You have given her brothers, whom she adores, and you have earned your place in her heart. She didn’t need another mother; you knew that, and you shaped your own role in her life. For that, I will always be grateful.
• We will pay £25 for every letter we publish. Email family@theguardian.com, including your address and phone number. We are able to reply only to those whose contributions we are going to use.
