My son married a woman with two children, and from the beginning, I loved those kids like my own grandchildren. They called me Grandma, and I made sure they never felt like outsiders. But one day, my daughter-in-law told me, “Stop — they’re not your real grandchildren.” It stung deeply, because to me, family is built on love, not blood.

Later, when she gave birth to my son’s baby, she proudly announced, “Now come meet your real grandchild.” I refused to play favorites — I told her all three children were mine in my heart. That’s when she cut me off. Calls went unanswered, visits stopped, and my son insisted she “needed space.” Weeks turned into months. A year passed.

Then one day, her oldest — now fourteen — messaged me. He said he missed me, that his younger brother asked about me too. Reading that broke my heart and healed it at the same time. They remembered. They still cared. They felt my love, even after being pushed away.

Now I’m torn. I want to reach out and be there for them, but I’m afraid of making things worse with their mother. I never meant to cause conflict — I only wanted to love all my grandchildren equally. I just wish their mother could see that love doesn’t divide; it multiplies.