Even though being a stepmom is never what we dream of when we're little girls, when we find ourselves in that role, we embrace it fully, often idealistically. We believe our situation will defy the odds and we'll be free of much of that nasty reputation stepparenting has. Sometimes it works. Sometimes not.

This month and next, we have a guest column from one of our readers. She's weathered some intense stepmom storms and feels a strong connection to other stepmoms struggling and afraid. I know you'll learn a great deal from her story. Here's part one:

"I guess I started my career as a stepmother with all of the hopes and wishes that most stepmothers have. I was determined to 'do it right' and become the wise woman that I was sure my stepdaughters would need as they grew older and began to realize that there were huge discrepancies in the stories their mother told them, not only about their father and me, but about life in general. I was going to be a friend to them, have them call me 'Natalie' instead of 'mom,' and never try to make them feel conflicted about loving their mother. I wanted to show them what true unconditional love was.

"I felt so sorry for my stepdaughters when I first met them, even though they were too young at 2 and 4 ½ years old, to be aware of all that was happening around them. They really got my heart early on. They did not ask to be born to a woman as mentally ill as their mother was, and who used them as pawns in her battle for control over her soon to be ex-husband’s soul. Her hate for my husband, who had dared to call her on her crazy behavior, and then actually leave her, was deeper and more destructive than I could have ever dreamed.

"I was divorced myself, but had never seen anything like this woman. She was willing to drag her children from ER to ER, and to CPS, and anyone who would listen, trying to paint a picture of the monster she had made my husband out to be in her mind -- a monster who raped and sodomized little girls. She believed he would do that to his own daughters, and yet she wanted to remain financially dependent on him, whom she was determined to destroy! Like most borderline personality disorders, she has never been an introspective person, trying to understand her own fatherless childhood or where her deep hatred of men came from. And then there was the money she thought my husband had and was hiding from her – her fantasies extended to every thing and became her reality, and no amount of facts or truth mattered, especially if it did not fit her view of what she wanted.

"Court battle after battle, several thousands of dollars and five years later, my husband was exonerated. But the judge in his unfathomable wisdom also deemed it appropriate to grant the girls' mom sole custody. He probably felt it was the only thing he could do to get rid of her from tying up his court.

"My stepdaughters paid the real price of this divorce from hell. They paid with the violation of their bodies, the fear of which they will never get out of their deepest memories, inflicted by well-meaning healthcare workers and CPS investigators, trying to get to the bottom of their mother’s bizarre accusations.

"Trauma is what I saw in their eyes whenever their Dad would go get them for a 'supervised visitation.' They had to learn at ages 3 and 5 how to edit everything they said so they didn’t accidentally tell Daddy something Mommy had told them not to say anything about. They looked at him so wistfully when it was time to go back to Mom’s house, and they knew they were not supposed to act like they had had a good time. They have paid dearly – with the loss of their childhood and their ability to ever freely love and trust their father.

"And I paid a price, too -- one I didn’t realize I was paying at the time. I was not married to him at that time; I was the 'friend of the court' who was supervising his visitation. My faith in the world being a good place and my trust in there being justice for all -- well, that was gone by the time we became more than just friends and fell in love. My feelings of being sure that if I did good things, I would be able to see good things happen – is gone forever.

"The mistrust that there are good things in the world is a tragedy I still see in my stepdaughters, now that they are young women in their late teens. My eldest stepdaughter Kayla is about to have her first child at 18, and she is still conflicted about loving her father and wanting him to be in her and her child’s life, feeling not quite sure that it is her birthright to want it to be so.

"My dreams of creating a family where we were all safe together and we could all enjoy our time together didn’t last long. Kids are cute, and they do say the darnest things -- like when Heather wanted 'one of those doggies with the holes in it' and pointed to the billboard advertising the movie 101 Dalmations. We had our share of craft nights and water balloon fights and rented movies and picnics on the floor on Friday nights in front of the TV. We all played 'Beauty Shop' and 'school' and chased the dogs around the park. We celebrated Halloween and Fourth of July and weekends at the beach.

"We all worked so hard at it that soon, when the third summer came around, and I had my first ever panic attacks in June because we were going to get the kids in July, I began to get tired of working so hard to have fun . . . ."

That's the beginning of Natalie's story. I know reading about her life has brought to mind memories and thoughts of your own. Remember -- you're not alone. Take care and please join us next month for the conclusion. Thanks for reading.