I needed to get this off my chest.
I’ve been a part of my stepdaughter’s life for years, and I’ve watched her struggle in ways that no six-year-old should. I wrote this letter not out of anger, but out of love—for the child who deserves better, and for all the parents out there who understand what it means to show up without needing a court order.
You may have won the fight.
You gained primary custody. You got to decide where she lives, what she does, and who gets to be involved in her life. On paper, you hold the power.
But every time she’s with us, I see who’s really losing.
She asks to stay longer. She says she doesn’t feel heard. She tells us she’s lonely, that the person she lives with is always busy or too tired. She asks questions no child should have to ask—like when she can stop going back, or when we’ll be able to take her home for good.
She carries more than a child should. She feels like her voice doesn’t matter—and too often, it hasn’t. We tried to advocate for her when we saw how unhappy she was in something she didn’t enjoy, but we were told it wasn’t our place. Years later, you said the same things we did. But by then, her trust had already been worn thin.
You tried to chip away at her time with her father—not for balance, but for control. You already had the weekdays, and then you asked for the weekends too. The request was denied, but that hasn’t stopped you from constantly asking for favors—to cut visits short, to have just one full weekend, to trade this day for that one. You say it’s for convenience, but it’s not about what’s convenient for her. It’s about having it all, even if it means taking more than what’s yours to take.
And when it comes to me—her step-mother—you made it clear how uncomfortable you were with the bond we’ve built. You wanted her to call someone else “dad” and telling her to call her father by his first name, but were hurt when she called me “mom.” You say it’s about labels, but to her, it’s about love. She doesn’t give those names lightly. She gives them to the people who show up.
You remind her often who her “real” parents are. We know—because she repeats it when we ask for her opinion. “That’s for my parents to decide,” she says. Not realizing that we are also the ones who tuck her in, brush her hair, and listen when she cries.
You may think this hurts us—her father and me.
But the one it’s truly hurting is her.
And whether you realize it or not, it’s also hurting you.
Because the more you try to control the love around her, the more she runs toward the people who make her feel seen.
The harder you pull, the more she drifts.
This letter isn’t about custody papers or legal wins.
It’s about a little girl who deserves to be raised by love, not fear.
She deserves presence, not possession.
Connection, not control.
So yes—you may have won the fight.
But if nothing changes, you are quietly, slowly, losing the war.
And the one you’re losing… is her.
—
From the one who brushes her hair when it’s tangled,
who listens to her stories,
and who doesn’t need a court order to care.