Three daughters give thanks to their ‘other mothers’ – the amazing women who helped raise them when their birth mums weren’t able to
These daughters struggled with loss, neglect and rejection and are all grateful to the 'second mums' who stepped up when they needed them
‘BABS promised my dying mum she’d look after us’
Leoni Martin, 26, is a full-time mum and lives in Birmingham with partner Warren Jones, 25, and children Tayla, four, and Harleigh, two. She is currently pregnant with her third child.
“As Dad hung up the phone, tears filled his eyes. My estranged mother Melissa, 37, was dying and didn’t have long left.
As I wept with my sister Leanne, then 15, and 12-year-old brother Teale, our stepmother Babs wrapped her arms around us.
I was 15 when Mum left my dad Steve, walking out on me and Leanne and moving to Wales, initially taking Teale with her.
Dad, an engineer, was heartbroken and I was angry, so we lost contact with her.
In time, Dad’s heart healed and two years later he met Babs, now 45, at a party.
I nagged him to introduce us and when he did I was taken aback by how pretty she was, with blonde hair and a lovely smile. We clicked straight away.
Babs, who worked for the police, moved in along with her daughters Shell, who was 19, and Hazel, 17.
Four teenage girls in a three-bed house meant lots of screaming about make-up and clothes, but Babs was the peacemaker and family tiffs always ended with hugs.
I’d always known Leanne had stayed in contact with Mum on Facebook, but Mum never accepted my friend requests.
I struggled with the fact she’d left without explanation and felt she didn’t want to know me.
Then in the summer of 2008, Leanne said Mum had posted online about going to hospital.
Although resentful, I needed to know what it meant and asked my nan to contact her.
A few days later, Mum called with a bombshell: she’d been diagnosed with terminal lung cancer seven months earlier.
I was devastated and couldn’t believe she’d kept it from us for so long.
That month, Mum went into a hospice in Wales. Dad drove us over there to see her several times a week.
Mum and I never spoke about the past, instead creating new memories as much as we could in the circumstances.
It was heartbreaking and I had so much to ask, but had to accept there would never be a right time.
Throughout it all, Babs was amazing.
Even though Mum left Dad, he was still devastated she was dying and Babs respected that. She wiped away our tears and listened as we went through every emotion possible.
One day we got the call from the hospice to say Mum didn’t have long.
Babs gently said she’d like to meet her, if it was OK with us. I loved her even more for that.
Mum was pretty out of it as Babs took her hand, promising she’d look after us. But hearing those words, I could see Mum’s face soften.
I was just 17 when Mum died on October 15, 2008, six weeks after we’d found out she was ill.
It’s been over eight years now and Babs has kept her promise.
Whenever I’ve had any problems, she’s always been my first port of call and she never lets a conversation finish until she’s sure I’m OK.
I met Warren five years ago. We have Tayla and Harleigh plus another little one due in July.
When Dad turned 50 recently, we had a party and dug out old photos to hang up.
Babs stuck an old one of Mum and Dad on the fridge.
Dad’s wild haircut got lots of laughs, but for me the fact Babs wanted that photo on display meant so much.
It just showed what a lovely woman she is. I’m grateful that my stepmother gave me the blueprint for the kind of person – and mum – I hope to be.”
‘I tried to make her hate me’
Jodie Lawrence, 23, is a compliance administrator and lives in Tamworth with her partner Bradley Pilsworth, 24, and their son Leyton, four.
“To say I came from a dysfunctional family is an understatement.
I was three when my parents split up and after that I divided my time between them. I witnessed things no child should, from drug abuse to neglect.
By 12, I was so unhappy, I was self-harming. When I confided in a friend she suggested I call Childline, who alerted social services.
They visited me at a friend’s, where I’d been staying, and told me I had to go into foster care.
I was petrified, but didn’t have a choice. My mum tried to fight for me, but was declared an unfit parent.
I can still remember that first meeting with my foster-mum-to-be Ruth, 53, in October 2007.
Her five-bed house was so quiet – I was used to shouting and banging.
Ruth asked what hobbies I had and when I said none, she offered to take me to gymnastics and ice-skating. Then she added that she wouldn’t stand for me hurting myself or anyone else. She was firm but lovely.
Two weeks later I moved in. It felt surreal to be in a functioning family.
Ruth was a single mum with two daughters of her own, Laura, then 18, and Mia, three.
She’d been a foster carer for 12 years and had looked after 64 kids. I had my own room that smelled of fresh laundry.
I sat on the bed and Ruth helped me to unpack.
She was going to be the next best thing to a parent, yet I didn’t know her.
Playing happy families didn’t come naturally to me. I wasn’t used to kindness and I pushed against Ruth’s generosity.
I ran away a few times, got tattoos of a gun and rose on my tummy before I was legally allowed to and often missed meetings with social services.
My attitude was that no one could tell me what to do.
Ruth met Richard, now 44, when I was 17. I decided she wouldn’t want me around, so I persuaded the council to give me a flat.
Ruth begged me to come home, even booking a family holiday to Barcelona, but I refused, too stubborn to admit I’d have loved to go.
We could easily have lost touch then, but a few weeks later Ruth came to my flat.
She gave me a big hug and some crockery as a housewarming gift, and told me I had to come for Sunday lunches.
I was overwhelmed.
Even so, I spent the next year of my life being difficult, pushing people away so they couldn’t hurt me.
I drank, smoked, shaved my head and bunked off college. But Ruth was always there.
In January 2011 I met Bradley in a club. He was such a calming influence and the first man I’d ever loved. Being with him made me see it was time I learned to like myself and accept that Ruth really did love me.
It also made me think back to the time when Ruth and Richard married in February 2010, and I was a bridesmaid alongside Laura and Mia. We got up early to go to the hairdresser, then did our make up. We laughed as Laura tried to figure out how to thread the lace on the back of Ruth’s dress and we all walked down the aisle together. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I really did belong in this family.
When Bradley and I had Leyton in August 2012, I realised Ruth had given me the tools I needed to be a good mum.
Before I was fostered, there would always be an empty chair in the audience at my school plays, but Ruth made sure that seat was always filled.
She taught me to stick to my promises and never let Leyton down.
I’m not in contact with my birth parents so when Bradley and I marry in Gibraltar in 2020, Ruth will take the role of mother of the bride, and Laura and Mia will be there, too.
I used to think I missed out on something with my upbringing – in fact, I gained something wonderful.
People say you can’t choose your family, but I did.”
‘She was the mum I needed’
Anna Coxon, 20, is a letting agent and lives in Newcastle upon Tyne with her cousin Laura Smith, 34, Laura’s husband Keith, 46, and their son Harry, eight.
“Running through the playground towards the waiting mums, I spotted my cousin Laura, waving.
Fourteen years older than me, our mums were sisters and as I was an only child, Laura was like my big sister.
She’d take me to the shops and taught me how to do my hair.
But that day, age 10, I knew her presence meant bad news back at home.
My mum, Jill, 45, had multiple sclerosis.
She used a wheelchair and sometimes couldn’t even get out of bed. As her condition got worse, Laura, who worked in a care home, and her mum Kay, now 57, stepped in, picking me up from school, cooking and cleaning.
My dad Brian, 55, was busy at work as a builder so we were grateful for the help.
In January 2007, Mum had a massive brain haemorrhage and was rushed to hospital.
Every week, Laura would take me to see her, but Mum never regained consciousness and on March 24 she passed away.
I was distraught, but Laura instinctively knew what I’d need. She cuddled me so tightly it felt like she’d never let go.
She was in a relationship with Keith, who worked as a binman, by then and I started spending every weekend at their house.
While I loved Dad very much, our home was full of memories that made me sad.
Three years after Mum passed away, Dad got together with a family friend. I wanted him to be happy, but I did find it hard.
Sensing that I was struggling, Laura invited me to live with her and Keith when I was 14.
I jumped at the chance and thankfully Dad understood my reasons.
Over the years, Laura took me on holiday to Corfu and Center Parcs, and we even went to Fuerteventura with Dad, too.
She packed my lunches for school and always made sure I did my homework.
But when I was 16, I had a wobble, knocking about with the wrong people and drinking when I should have been home.
I could have gone further down that road, but Laura didn’t let me.
We talked and, encouraged by her, I finished school in 2012 and got an apprenticeship, then a job as a letting agent in 2014.
Laura still packs my lunch every day.
She and Keith have a son Harry, eight. Harry has Down’s syndrome and I adore him, he’s like my little brother.
On Mother’s Day I buy Laura presents such as flowers and candles from us both.
If you experience loss at a young age, you can end up bitter and sad.
But with someone amazing in your life who makes you feel it’s still OK to smile, you can live a great life.
For me, that was Laura.”
If enjoyed these stories, read about the amazing single dad who adopted four children with additional needs.