I Care for My Partner, But Our Marriage Has Reached Its End

home insemination Kit

I’ve been in love with the same guy for nearly two decades. His name is Sam, and he’s got dark hair and warm brown eyes. I’ve only seen him without his beard once, and let’s be real, I prefer the scruff. He’s quite the looker.

Sam is easygoing, especially when my anxiety levels spike. He tends to be quiet at social events while I chatter away like there’s no tomorrow. He’s a night owl, rising early without a hitch, whistling as soon as his feet touch the floor. I, on the other hand, require at least thirty minutes of silence before I can even think about engaging with anyone in the morning, and I need a solid eight hours of sleep to function properly. He’s definitely the calm to my storm.

Fifteen years ago, we felt ready to tie the knot. We dove right into starting a family, just as we had dreamed. “Let’s have kids close together,” we declared on our wedding night, and we did—three kids later, here we are, both realizing we’d likely be happier living our lives apart.

I truly care for him, but that love has transformed. It’s not robust enough to uphold a marriage any longer, but it’s still present. He witnessed the births of our children. Together, we built a home, shared laughter and tears, and supported each other through tough times. We’ve experienced enough love over the years to forgive each other for our marital slip-ups, and we are now using the remnants of that love to part ways.

The more we tried to cultivate our love as a married couple, the more we drifted apart. We knew the time had come.

Two months ago, he moved out. After a few weeks of solitary nights, I took a much-needed girls’ getaway with my best friend. We indulged in massages and explored various shops and eateries. Before stepping out of the car, we would often sit for half an hour, hand on the door handle, reluctant to break our lively conversation.

In the midst of browsing a bookstore, I was flipping through a poetry collection when Sam sent me a photo of our kitchen. He had taken down the cabinets and tiled all the way to the ceiling—just like I’d always wanted! It was a project I had pitched for years, but we never got around to it.

Inspired after his move, I reached out to several contractors, eager to get the ball rolling. However, while I was away and he was with the kids in our old home, he decided to surprise me by starting it himself. But he couldn’t wait to share his progress, so he sent me a picture.

I found a quiet corner in the bookstore and sat down for a moment, tears streaming down my cheeks—not from sadness, but from joy that we still have love for each other during this transition—perhaps even more than before we made this choice.

I love Sam, and a part of me always will, but our marriage is done. Most of the time, I feel empowered. I know we’re doing the right thing. Yet, there are moments when it stings—like when I’m at the grocery store, and the friendly cashier who’s bagged my groceries for over a decade says, “You’re not buying as much these days. Where’s the steak?”

Or when I walked into a jewelry store to get my watch battery replaced, and the saleswoman chirped, “You left all your rings at home today? I bet you need something new. Look at this,” while showing me a flashy cocktail ring.

But then I remind myself of what an incredible father Sam is. Our separation doesn’t have to end in heartache. He’ll always be there for our kids, and most importantly, we’re still a family.

The sting lessens, and I’m okay not buying the steak, and I don’t get misty-eyed every time I see diamonds anymore. I still love him because he genuinely cares. I love him because I can share my thoughts after a long day of being a single mom in my 40s, and he listens. He’ll always be part of my life.

Our family may look a bit different now, but that doesn’t mean love has vanished. It wasn’t enough to sustain our marriage any longer, but it is certainly enough to keep a happy family together.

For more on navigating relationships and parenting, check out this insightful resource on intracervical insemination. If you’re curious about home insemination, Make a Mom has some great information. Also, visit UCSF’s Center for excellent insights on pregnancy and home insemination.

Summary:

In this candid reflection, Lisa shares her journey of love and separation from her husband Sam after nearly two decades together. While their romantic relationship has ended, their bond remains strong as co-parents. Lisa emphasizes that love can transform and adapt, allowing them to continue supporting each other as a family.