“HA! We are a unicorn!” I laughed when I read that 70% of blended marriages fail. Ten years in, Scott and I were still standing—stronger than ever—beating the odds and now outspending every grocery bill on the block feeding six teenagers. Together, our blended family included six kids—and three other parents raising them too. It’s been brutiful (one of my favorite words, I think I first heard it from Glennon Doyle). To put it in perspective, our six kids equal twelve grandparents, eleven houses, nine pets, seven schools (so far), five sessions of divorce court, four therapists, two bankruptcies, and countless soccer balls wedged in our pear tree.
Our very first “family date” was the Super Bowl of 2011. I remember being beyond nervous when Scott came over with his kids for the first time. He was patient, kind, and incredibly cute—but YIKES! I had three kids, he had three kids… how on earth would this work? That Super Bowl was the loudest one I’ve ever experienced, and it was just us and our six kids! Ironically, our love story began because of a favor. My step-kids’ mom, wanting Scott to move on and re-enter the dating scene, suggested I give him a chance. I agreed—despite him not really being my “type”—and quickly discovered I truly enjoyed his company. What started as a favor soon turned into something much more.
At the time, our kids ranged from ages 2 to 9. Three boys, three girls. Three blondes, three brunettes. Very Brady Bunch. I had been single less than a year, and dating was not a priority. My first attempt at romance post-divorce ended with me crying out of Olive Garden after a blind date in a pink tuxedo—so I put love on hold. I needed time to heal. My first marriage had been filled with mistakes, work obsession, and neglect. I carried a lot of regret and pain, and I wanted to grow into a better version of myself before trying again.
I thought dating Scott would be easy, convenient, nothing serious. But he was different. He listened, truly listened. He looked into my eyes when we talked, cared about my day before telling me about his, wrote me poems, sent sweet texts, and genuinely cared about my kids. He even ate a tuna salad wrap on our first meal together—almost gagging because he hates tuna—but he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. The first year of our relationship was filled with enormous stress: I lost a multi-million-dollar business, faced foreclosure on my family home, and even had my mom’s van towed. I filed bankruptcy, ended up on food stamps, and tried to rebuild my life as a mompreneur coach. Most days, I was a puddle of tears, overwhelmed by shame and shock, reliant on antidepressants, and struggling to find my health, confidence, and identity.
Meanwhile, Scott lived in a small apartment across town. His evenings and weekends were filled with soccer, friends, and time with his kids. He had left behind a home he had just remodeled, paid off half of a previous bankruptcy, and given half his income and retirement to his ex. Yet he never complained to me about any of it. He just loved being a dad and embraced the chaos of life, never phased by my three kids joining the mix. He says he fell in love with me during a silly moment: one afternoon, I sat fully clothed in a kiddie pool to splash with the kids, and he adored my playful, unguarded side.
We spent as much time together as possible, learning from friends with strong marriages and blended families, and leaning on a supportive church community we joined after some encouragement from neighbors. Scott hadn’t been near church since elementary school, but he attended because his oldest daughter wanted to try it. This became a turning point, giving us spiritual support for the challenges ahead.
In 2012, fear of vulnerability led me to break up with Scott after a few weeks apart for his work. I told myself I was better off relying only on myself. But after deep reflection and prayer, I realized I was worthy of a love like Scott’s—unconditional, attentive, and deep. A few weeks later, he invited me and the kids on spring break at the beach. I hesitated but said yes. That trip was magical—a fresh, easy kind of love when I let my walls down.
Months later, Scott moved in. Merging bedrooms and routines was rough. Emotions ran high; arguments erupted. One night, the cops even came to our door, teaching our kids a lesson about honesty. We implemented “kindness coupons,” schedules for decision-making, and plenty of Forced Family Fun—vacations, games, projects—to encourage connection and create memories.
Scott proposed at a family vacation spot I had cherished since childhood. One of our kids burst into tears mid-proposal, a perfectly natural reaction, but Scott remained patient and loving. We married on April 11, 2014, in a tiny ceremony costing less than $500. The next morning, soccer season started, and Scott was coaching three of our kids’ teams, yet we were happy and grateful. Over the years, we’ve enjoyed small honeymoons, trips to Costa Rica and Mexico, and countless weekend getaways when schedules aligned.
Our first years of marriage involved legal battles and parenting challenges. Scott’s ex opposed church attendance and visitation schedules changed. It was costly, heartbreaking, and draining—but every Friday night at home with the eight of us felt like a celebration: Wii dance competitions, hide-and-seek, pizza parties, and evenings by the fire pit.
Now, nearly ten years together and seven years married, we thrive. Our kids are 12 through 18. Teen struggles are magnified by past wounds, but communication, prayer, and forgiveness keep our family strong. Scott prays over me each morning, reminding me we are an unbreakable team. I cherish my role as his wife, honoring his sacrifices while pursuing my work as an entrepreneur instructor. Scott thrives in his 25th year at Intel, and together we run a blended family ministry at our church, offering guidance to others learning the art of step-parenting.
Our eldest just got married—to a faith-filled bride he adores. He told us he chose her because he wanted a marriage like ours. That was the ultimate reward: showing our children what love, faith, and a strong, healthy home really look like. By God’s grace, we did it—one kid married, five more to go.
