'Kate Winslet said something about parenting that stepmothers rarely hear out loud.'

When Kate Winslet recently spoke about her gratitude for her child's step-mother, she described it as extraordinary to love a child you didn't give birth to.

It was a brief comment, made during an appearance on Fearne Cotton's Happy Place podcast, but it landed heavily for me.

Loving by choice is still widely misunderstood, and it's uncommon to hear biological parents sharing deep gratitude publicly.

I've been a step-mum for almost a decade, and while the love in this role is real, the mental load that comes with it is something few people are prepared for.

There's no book on "what to expect when you're expecting to be a step-mum."

You meet someone with kids, and you dive into parenthood.

Watch: Kate Winslet shares a rare and beautiful insight into her blended family. Post continues below.

One of the earliest shifts I noticed.

Life began to revolve around a calendar I didn't create; hared care arrangements. Pick-ups and drop-offs. School holidays planned in halves.

Somewhere along the way, I also became the default parent in our home. Not through a formal conversation or a clear agreement, but because I was present and capable.

But, over time, the mental load of holding routines, remembering details, anticipating needs, and emotionally buffering everyone else began to change things.

What started as flexibility slowly became a constant state of vigilance. And, like so much invisible care work, it was assumed rather than assigned.

That's not to whinge about my role in my home, it's to voice that there's an additional layer emotionally when you are working within the blended family system.

Your nervous system never fully settles. Plans are pencilled in lightly, knowing they can change. You become skilled at adapting, but that skill comes at a cost.

When the children are with us, life is full, demanding, and emotionally charged. When they're not, the quiet can feel both relieving and disorienting.

I've learnt that it's possible to miss someone deeply while also needing the pause their absence brings.

Kris Byrnes is Australia's leading coach for step parents. Image: Supplied

Holding those two truths at once is exhausting.

Another layer that shapes this experience is the reality of loving children you have no real rights to.

The office lady at their school, whilst having met me at least 14 times, will still say, "and who are you to them?"

To which my internal monologue responds: "Look lady, I filled out the enrolment forms, you call my number when they are in sick bay, and I foot half the bill of private schooling. I am their step-mum."

Each time she questions who I am, it opens a wound around worth and belonging. And I know that those wounds weren't created by being a step-parent (we form our belief system between the ages of 0-7), but it doesn't take away the sting.

I can show up consistently, invest emotionally, financially and physically and care deeply, while still having no formal authority. Decisions can be made without me.

I am grateful to be in a position where things are done as a collective, and I am recognised as a parent within my blended family dynamic. But, for a lot of women, the story is completely different. Boundaries can shift without warning. The role can feel solid one moment and uncertain the next.

That lack of control forces a level of emotional regulation we aren't prepared for. I've had to learn, deliberately, where my responsibility ends. Without that clarity, resentment builds quickly.

Far too many step-mums have come to me; clients that are in the depth of resentment, anger and wanting to walk away from their blended family for no reason other than they are emotionally exhausted. Not because of a lack of love, but because sustained powerlessness erodes even the most generous intentions.

Protecting your peace becomes essential. Loving well in this role requires strong internal boundaries. It means knowing what is yours to carry and what isn't. It means resisting the urge to over-function in order to feel secure or included.

Socially, being a step-parent often means existing in an uncomfortable in-between. I'm involved, but not always recognised. Present, but not central. There are moments, particularly in school or community settings, where legitimacy still seems to be measured by biology alone.

"I've had to learn, deliberately, where my responsibility ends." Image: Supplied

More often, it's felt in subtle ways.

In assumptions. It's in the awkwardness when the kids were little. The lady at the counter says to my step-kids, "Oh you be good for mum, now, won't you?" and I've always found myself saying politely, "Oh I'm step-mum, not mum," only because I've wanted to remain respectful, and never wanted the kids to feel my intention was to replace anyone.

Over time, that subtle marginalisation can chip away at your sense of belonging.

The irony is that step-parents often carry an enormous amount of unseen responsibility.

We absorb emotional overflow. We help regulate households shaped by transition. We support partners navigating co-parenting dynamics that are often complex and emotionally loaded. We help children move between worlds, frequently holding space for feelings they don't yet have the language to express.

Most of this work happens quietly. There is no clear cultural script for it. No roadmap. No acknowledgement that loving by choice requires emotional maturity, restraint, and resilience.

There is also grief woven into this role. Grief for the family structure you imagined. Grief for the simplicity you didn't get. Grief for the fact that your contribution may never be fully visible or recognised in the way biological parenting often is.

Listen: Parenting Out Loud | The Precise Reason We Need To Reverse The Parent-Child Hierarchy. Post continues below.

But there is power here, too.

Being a bonus parent has taught me how to love without possession. How to stay committed without guarantees. How to show up without needing to be centred. That kind of love is intentional. It's conscious. It's built over time.

I am not my step-children's biological mother, and I don't need to be. What I offer is consistency, presence, and emotional steadiness. I care about who they are becoming, not about where I sit in a hierarchy.

Kate Winslet's words, spoken from a biological mother, matter because they have named something step-parents rarely hear: that this kind of love counts. That it isn't secondary. That choosing to love children you didn't give birth to is not lesser, it's deliberate.

Families today are layered and complex. They are blended, restructured, and rewritten. The sooner we broaden our understanding of what caregiving looks like, the sooner we create healthier environments for everyone involved.

I'm proud of the way I've learnt to hold this role. Not because it's been easy, but because it required growth, self-awareness, and the willingness to keep choosing love even when it's invisible.

That is what makes it extraordinary.

Feature Image: Supplied.