When Liam and I first got together, we envisioned a family filled with laughter and love. From the early days of our relationship, having kids was a mutual dream, one that seemed to be a natural progression in our lives together. We shared the same values on parenting, discipline, and nurturing. For us, starting a family wasn’t just the next step; it was a goal we aimed for from the very beginning.
However, we never reached that goal. After the wedding, the dog, and buying a home, we found ourselves stuck. There was an intangible barrier preventing us from taking that leap into parenthood. We faced issues that felt insurmountable, and every attempt to resolve them only made things worse. I was often too critical, while Liam struggled with honesty. After five years of marriage and three years of counseling, our problems remained persistent, leading us to the difficult decision to divorce.
The end of my marriage felt like a shattering blow. It wasn’t just the acute sense of failure that haunted me, or the trauma of leaving the home we built together, but it was the overwhelming sense of being broken, an emotion that seemed invisible to everyone around me. Friends and family—literally everyone from my parents to colleagues—repeatedly told me I was “lucky.” Lucky because we hadn’t had children. Lucky to avoid a messy custody battle. The terms “clean break” and “simple” were tossed around as if they were confetti at my unexpected “Newly Single” celebration. Even the judicial system treated my marriage as a minor inconvenience; a quick form, a fee, and a letter confirming the end of it all—fewer steps than it took to sell a car!
With a so-called “lucky divorce,” people assumed I was coping well. Rarely did anyone check in to see how I was truly feeling or if I needed support. The narrative of a neat and tidy breakup made it easy for me to hide my struggles. I pretended everything was fine. When asked about my weekends, I spoke of chores or visits with family, but the reality was far from that. I spent countless nights crying alone on the couch, venturing out only to walk my dog. Most days, I found myself tearing up in my car long before I arrived home, exhausted from pretending to be happy at work.
The heartbreak of my marriage ending was deeper than I ever anticipated. It obliterated the future I had envisioned and left me grappling with uncertainty. The dreams of children and golden years faded into a fog of what could have been. I was suffocated by fears about my new life. Would I ever find love again? Could I still have children if I did? Did I make the right choice in leaving Liam behind? The very thought of never seeing him again—something others saw as a positive—was the hardest part because I still wanted him in my life. Sometimes, I even wished we had children so I would have a piece of him with me forever.
I know there are many parents navigating the challenges of divorce with children who might see me as fortunate for my clean break. However, I can assure you, no divorce is truly “lucky,” and even the simplest ones can turn your world upside down. The only fortunate ones are those divorces that never occur.
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Summary
Divorce often carries a stigma, especially when it’s labeled as “lucky.” Ava’s experience reveals the emotional turmoil that accompanies the end of a marriage, regardless of whether children are involved. The sense of loss, uncertainty, and societal expectations can make the journey feel isolating. True healing requires acknowledging the deep pain that can exist beneath the surface.