Illustration by Em Roberts
Before our official 2012 merger, we were but two divorcees and four children. Now, mere weeks after our copper anniversary, no matter how messy our situation may be, it fits neatly into a modern haiku:
Each of us had two
But to family-bind our crew
We begat some glue
That glue was little Julian, our late-harvest kindergartner in whom each of the blended children has an equal stake. He is the intersection of our Venn diagram. And it’s as though Julian holds two passports. He is a dual citizen of the HERS triad (Amy Lee, Isabella, Brooks) and the HIS trio (Jason, Sebastion, Cecilia). The rest of us, despite being naturalized by marriage, observe certain political boundaries drawn by blood. We see it in our seating arrangements — HERS by her, HIS by him — and charades teams.
Sometimes, these genetic seams are rendered invisible. We all share loves for travel, flying discs and disco, for instance. Yet, there are moments when nature trumps nurture and reminds us exactly in which direction each bloodline runs. HERS love steak and comedies. HIS love fish and musicals. HERS have strong teeth, delicate hearts, and they tap-tap-tap the snooze button but can blast out the door in two minutes flat. HIS have more cavities, less emotional vulnerability and pop right up in the morning but need an extra 10 minutes for proper primping.
In our early days, I chalked up our divisions to growing pains and tried to mash our two worlds into one, attempting to sand down the seams into a smooth polish. As with so many unnecessary struggles in life, the answer was simply to surrender and let it be. Because while the biological fault lines might forever be apparent when it comes to Netflix, flossing and the green vs. yellow banana debate, it’s not about how or where the lines are drawn, it’s how you navigate them. Tempting as it is to feel more entitled with our own blood, genetic primacy does not necessarily afford extra privileges. I cannot undermine my wife’s authority over my two kids, for example, by pulling rank as the bio parent.
For extra insight, I checked in with a certified parenting coach, MegAnne Ford, owner of Be Kind Coaching. Ford encourages parents to see past labels like HIS, HERS, OURS, OTHER. “We can play into these storylines, or we can transcend them,” she says. “The label is almost an excuse. Without that label, connection is still possible. Hold respect for both sides.” When you learn that first at home, the building of friendships and alliances later is that much easier.
On the other hand, genes speak to predisposition. Besides the impact of nurture, there are forces of nature acting upon all of us. It’s helpful to peek behind the curtain to understand key inputs for hair color, allergens and constitution. Beyond sourcing that extra kidney in a crisis, though, how else does DNA inform us? As with adopted children, parents — whether of a blended family or not — should bear witness to biology without pigeonholing it or judging it.
“We were formed in our grandmothers’ wombs,” says Ford. “So there are certain traumas that family lines do have that pass on in a very biological sense, a very mental health sense. Females are born with all of their eggs intact, so my mother in my grandmother’s womb already had me in her as an infant. I was not just living in my mom’s womb, I was living in my grandma’s. It’s so weird and meta.” Spend a minute googling “inherited trauma” and you’ll find a 2018 story on epigenetics in The Atlantic that might just blow your mind.
Tease out whatever useful clues you can from biology, but don’t delimit your lines according to some 23andMe results. Adds Ford, “Don’t argue for your limitations. Argue for the possibilities.”
In my crew, the blendeds certainly share a tent, but if one of them forgets their bed roll, it’s likely the biological siblings who will share a sleeping bag. Maybe that’s more about personality, temperament and birth order than chromosomes. Who knows? And who cares? Amy Lee and I used to think we understood how our genes expressed themselves. We had years of empirical data from Exhibits I, S, B and C. Then, Exhibit J came along and turned it all upside down.
Thanks to the intersecting fates of these two trios, and the emergence of Julian, who crosses, blurs and hopscotches the bloodlines, our tribe’s boundaries are now defined as much by kismet as by kinship. I hope it’s a notion that these kids pass down to their own children.
Jason Tesauro, a modern papa to a fivesome under 17, invites you to join him live through life at the speed of love/chaos/adventure.
