“Mom, are most divorced parents like you and Dad, or do they usually resent each other?”
My son, Jake, and I are on our way to see a movie, just the two of us. The other four kids in our blended family are preoccupied, leaving us with this rare moment together. Jake is thrilled for the one-on-one time, and I cherish the opportunity to hear what’s on his mind.
“I’m not sure,” I reply. “What do you think?”
“I believe most divorced people can’t stand each other.”
As he continues, Jake shares stories about classmates who act as intermediaries between their parents, relaying messages and trying to mediate conflicts. He mentions adults arguing on the phone, kids anxious about custody visits, and friends who seem genuinely depressed. He’s in seventh grade.
“Why don’t you and Dad fight like that?”
I often hear this question, usually from adults who are curious about why my ex-husband, Mark, and I maintain a friendly relationship. Perhaps they assume our divorce was amicable? No? There must be something special about us that sets us apart from typical divorced couples. The underlying suggestion is that we must be too friendly to fit the stereotype of a “real” divorced pair.
The truth is, our situation isn’t particularly unique. Our divorce was tough, marked by pain and blame directed at one another. We felt isolated, rejected, and as though we’d failed at the fundamental task of building a family.
“So here’s the reality,” I explain to Jake. “Dad and I don’t argue because we made a conscious choice early on to treat our divorce as one significant wound.”
I can see from his puzzled expression that he doesn’t fully grasp what I mean, so I elaborate. Tween boys typically don’t ask many follow-up questions, and I want him to understand this concept.
“When we decided to end our marriage, we recognized it would be painful for all of us, especially for you kids. We could either inflict one major hurt and then focus on finding our own happiness, or we could hurt you repeatedly by fighting over everything—time spent at each home, clothes, vacations.”
He’s paying attention.
I share that, for months after our separation, Mark and I didn’t communicate. He doesn’t remember that time. I briefly recount the late-night arguments that occurred when Jake and his siblings were asleep. Even during that difficult period, we both agreed on one crucial point: the divorce would be the only major pain we would cause our children. This commitment emerged from therapy while our marriage dissolved. Despite our differences, we were united on this front.
“Dad and I still occasionally disagree. We are different individuals, as you know well from living with us both. Our parenting styles vary, and we each have our unique ways of interacting with you. But we are aligned on the most important issue: your well-being. We co-parent because that’s what’s best for you,” I say.
“Dad and I care about you too much to ever harbor hatred for each other.”
I remind him that to despise his father would mean I also despise half of Jake’s heart. Allowing anger toward Mark to dominate my thoughts would distort my happy memories of our marriage and the beginnings of my motherhood journey. Opting for animosity over love would taint the narrative of our children’s lives.
Of course, I’m human. I don’t only have fond memories of our time together. There are disagreements even when we seem to present a united front. I’m sure Mark feels similarly. I can occasionally sense a tension in his voice when he thinks I’m being overly insistent. Our past is complicated, filled with hurt and anger. We are divorced, after all. We made the decision not to walk in sync anymore.
But we chose to co-parent. We independently decided, even when we disagreed about seemingly trivial matters, to remain a team. Even through the complicated and messy periods, we kept trying. We focused on the three individuals we love most and allowed that love to unite us. Our goal aligns with any other family’s: to ensure our children feel secure and whole.
Mark and I didn’t fail at creating a family when we divorced. Our commitment to our parenting partnership and our children’s upbringing means that we are forever connected. We chose the path that would keep our children healthy and happy in the long run, and we chose it together. In that sense, we resemble many parents who stay married. Our decision to co-parent harmoniously binds us together.
While achieving a peaceful co-parenting relationship may seem daunting, especially if you’re not there yet, it is attainable. My ex and I weren’t always in this place. Start small. Focus on loving your little ones and take that first step today. For more insights on parenting and home insemination, check out this excellent resource on in-vitro fertilization.
Summary
This article explores the dynamics of co-parenting post-divorce, emphasizing the importance of prioritizing children’s well-being over personal grievances. It discusses how maintaining a united front despite differences can lead to healthier family dynamics, encouraging others to strive for peaceful co-parenting relationships.