Updated: Dec. 17, 2020
Originally Published: July 21, 2015
Let’s be real. Who walks down the aisle thinking, “This isn’t going to last”? When I gazed into my fiancé’s eyes at 23, I felt I was exactly where I belonged. But let’s not sugarcoat it—was there a whisper of doubt? That pesky little voice nudging me with thoughts like, “One day, you’ll argue for hours about a breadbox being left open”?
Getting married felt a lot like the experience of welcoming my first child. Friends my age were buzzing with excitement, asking about color schemes, wedding dresses, cake flavors, and the eternal debate: band or DJ? My biggest task? Picking out the items for my registry that everyone would bestow upon us.
In hindsight, my fiancé and I should’ve registered for vodka and therapy sessions instead.
The thrill of expecting a baby is unparalleled—boy or girl? Nursery themes? Breastfeeding or formula? Maternity shoots? The list goes on. My husband and I found ourselves in a similar frenzy, picking out wipes warmers as if they were the key to our happiness. In retrospect, those vodka and therapy coupons still sound like better gifts. When you have kids, you barely find time to breathe, let alone warm wipes.
It was the wise elders in my life, those who had been around the block, who offered gentle warnings. “As long as you’re happy,” they’d say, or “Marriage is like a second job.” I brushed their advice aside, thinking I would prove them wrong. I was a child of divorce, and I vowed to spare my kids from experiencing that heartache.
Fast forward a decade, and my husband—the loving father of my two wonderful sons—is moving out. Some will view this as a failure, and they may pity us, particularly our children. But what I’ve come to realize, which eluded me at 23, is that our arguments were never really about the breadbox. We’ve simply grown into people who no longer recognize who we were together. Our children didn’t complicate our relationship; they clarified why we were initially drawn to one another. They are the source of our laughter and tears, the joy that helps us see our journey as one of growth rather than failure.
When couples separate, there’s no celebration. Society hasn’t caught up with the reality of it all. People often react awkwardly, unsure of how to engage. Gone are the days of frolicking down the aisle, searching for meaningless items to add to a gift registry. The invites will be fewer, and friends might be confused about who to invite.
In truth, we’re dismantling a puzzle that has been missing pieces for years, yet we held onto it. I am parting ways with the one person who knows what it feels like to witness our children’s first breaths. We’ve both elevated and stifled each other. There’s no celebration here. No music or cake, just a quiet acknowledgment of a chapter ending.
Now that the dust has settled and the news of our separation is out, I am certain of a few things. Life is uncertain. I’ve learned that you can’t truly fail if you have the courage to try. Separating has required far more bravery than getting married ever did. I still use my pizza cutter weekly, and perhaps therapy coupons aren’t the most appropriate gifts for a couple in love.
Love is an unstoppable force, and the quest for it is what makes life meaningful. No one could have dissuaded me from marrying my husband, so pondering if I’d do it all over again seems futile. If I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have discovered who I am. We believed in love’s enduring power, and that belief remains unchanged.
So please, don’t waste time feeling sorry for us or for my boys. Marriage isn’t just a wedding dress, arguments don’t fit neatly in a breadbox, and separation isn’t the end of a relationship. We don’t need a celebration.
We’ve no use for vodka or therapy coupons anymore.
Let’s face it: the foundation of any relationship is friendship, and sometimes, a plant just won’t thrive despite your efforts to nurture it. The conditions simply aren’t right, and sometimes roots are all that remain. Only time will tell how this decision impacts my children, who, with their distinct personalities, will navigate life’s choices just like everyone else. One day, they may experience their own awkward date and fall in love. And knowing myself, I’ll be there to remind them, “As long as you’re happy.”
For more insights on home insemination, visit this resource. If you’re exploring your own journey to parenthood, check out this authority on insemination kits. For a comprehensive understanding of pregnancy, Healthline is an excellent resource.
Summary:
Separation can be a transformative experience rather than a failure, as it allows individuals to grow and redefine their identities. While society may not celebrate this change, it’s important to recognize that love and connection remain, even when relationships evolve.