Your cart is currently empty!
Reflections on Marriage and Separation
Let’s be real. Who walks down the aisle thinking, “This isn’t going to work”? When I gazed into my soon-to-be husband’s eyes at 23, I felt like I was in the perfect spot. But if I’m being honest, there was a nagging little voice whispering, “One day you’ll argue for three hours about a breadbox being left open.”
Getting married felt a lot like preparing for my first child. My friends were buzzing with excitement, so eager to know about my wedding colors, dress style, cake flavor, and whether we’d hire a band or DJ. My biggest task seemed to be picking out items for my registry that everyone would buy.
Looking back, my husband and I joke that we should have registered for vodka and therapy sessions instead. Because when you’re expecting your first baby, the thrill is real. Boy or girl? Nursery decor? Breastfeeding or bottle feeding? Will we do a maternity shoot? What about organic baby food?
I remember my husband and I wandering the aisles, debating which baby wipes warmer we should add to our list as if we were just lucky to have found love. In hindsight, those vodka and therapy coupons would have been a far better choice since, with kids, finding time to even use a wipes warmer is a challenge.
It was the wise older folks in my life—those who had been through the ups and downs—who offered gentle reminders: “As long as you’re happy,” or “Marriage is like a second job.” I brushed off their advice, believing I could prove them wrong. Having experienced my parents’ separation at a young age, I swore I wouldn’t put my kids through that.
Fast forward a decade, and my husband—the father of my two wonderful boys—is moving out. Some people might see this as a failure. They may even pity our children. But what I’ve realized, which I didn’t grasp at 23, is that we were never truly fighting over the breadbox. We’ve just grown into different people who don’t really know each other anymore. Our kids didn’t complicate our relationship; they showed us why we were initially drawn together after our awkward first date. They are the source of our shared laughter and tears, reminding us of what we’ve done right instead of focusing on perceived failures.
When couples separate, there’s no celebration, and that’s just the way it is. People can get awkward and unsure of how to react. There’s no more registry shopping for unnecessary items, no monogrammed glasses, and certainly fewer invitations to social gatherings. Friends may wonder whom to invite and feel misled by the idea that we’d last forever.
In truth, we’re finally putting away the puzzle that’s been missing pieces for ages but we just couldn’t bear to discard. I’m separating from the one person who has shared the experience of watching our children take their first breaths. We’ve supported each other while sometimes stifling each other’s growth. This isn’t a happy occasion, and there’s no celebration, not even flowers like at a funeral. We’re striving to do this thoughtfully, laying down the foundation that brought us together in the first place, despite the structure falling apart.
As the dust settles and everyone learns of this “failed” marriage, I’ve come to terms with some things. Life has no guarantees. I’ve learned that courage is key; you can’t truly fail if you have the guts to try. And, surprisingly, separating takes more courage than saying “I do.” I still use my pizza cutter weekly, and those therapy coupons may not be the best gift for a happy couple.
Love is an unstoppable force, even when it feels wrong sometimes—it’s what gives life meaning. No one could have dissuaded me from marrying my husband, so asking if I’d change anything is pointless. If I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have discovered myself. We believed in love’s endurance, and that hasn’t changed.
So, please don’t waste your time pitying us or feeling sorry for my boys. A marriage isn’t a fancy dress, disputes don’t fit neatly into a breadbox, and separation isn’t the end of meaningful connections. We don’t need a party for this.
And frankly, we have no need for vodka or therapy coupons anymore. Let’s face it: the essence of any relationship is a solid friendship, and sometimes, despite your best efforts, things just don’t flourish. Only time will reveal how this decision affects my kids. They’re two unique boys, each with their own paths ahead, and someday they’ll likely experience their own awkward dates and fall in love. When that day comes, I’ll sit them down, kiss their cheeks, and look into their eyes, saying, “As long as you’re happy.”
For more insights on home insemination and related topics, check out this blog post on Intracervical Insemination. Also, for comprehensive information on artificial insemination, visit Make a Mom. If you’re looking for excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination, be sure to check out ACOG.
In summary, life is unpredictable, and relationships can change. What matters most is how we handle those changes and the love we continue to nurture, regardless of the circumstances.