by Cathy Pfeiffer-Smith

Sounds so lovely, doesn’t it. When I think of the word ‘blend’ I see my grandma folding a cake mixture with smooth, deliberate swirls, until the batter is that delicious creamy yellow colour and comes together in perfection. Has this been my experience of being part of a ‘blended’ family?

Sometimes it certainly has, but I have to tell you that sometimes it has felt like I’m whipping around in the Mixmaster in a complete spin, pinned to the outside by its centrifugal force.

There are all sorts of risky components in blended families. They are created following either the breakdown of a relationship or the death of a parent. Both of these are highly charged emotional circumstances. While forming the new family may be many years after these events, the impact will certainly be felt again. As couples forge confidently ahead in this important step of their relationship, with hearts in love and excited hopes for the future, it could well be the worst news their children have ever heard.

This was the case for me. I met my husband when his daughter was eight years old. Having been a single and very hands-on dad with two weeks on, two weeks off custody since she was two years old, his bond with his daughter was strong. Very strong, as I was to find out. While she welcomed the female company (Dad’s spag bog was wearing just a bit thin) and we enjoyed getting to know each other, the mood changed when those almost-teenage hormones started to kick in a few years later, and her dad’s relationship with another woman (me) was cemented. On her mum’s side two young children were born during this time. Add our wedding and a couple of babies in quick succession (girls!) and we were all in the whirlpool together.

You can read the full story in the September 2011 edition of The Lutheran, available from LCA Subscriptions. Full stories become available online three years after publication date.