After I left my husband, I was showered with e-mails and calls of the I’m-here-for-you ilk. It was so affirming to have an inbox full of the best intentions, but it was obvious that failed-marriage sympathy was uncharted territory for my twentysomething friends.
Don’t get me wrong. I am incredibly grateful for the love sent my way. I am a lucky, lucky woman. And how the hell were people supposed to know what to say? But. Intent aside, some conversations left me feeling insecure, deflated, and just plain sad.
People were curious—hadn’t I seen any red flags before the wedding? Well, yes, but they were more pink than red, and when I thought about calling it all off, I couldn’t pick up any clear signals from heart nor brain. So I chose the path of least resistance. Throw in the fact that I’m a well-educated, feminist woman, and I don’t think I need to explain why the “red flag” question made me want to smack myself and the dear question-poser upside the head. Simultaneously.
Another comment that frequently accompanied a pat on the back was, “Thank God you didn’t have kids with him.” Very true. But the words made me wince. I longed to have kids. The feelings were real; the feelings ran deep. John and I had started “trying” (not to be confused with the more regimented “TRYING”) shortly after the wedding, but things weren’t quite right with me, and I was eventually diagnosed with a potential fertility challenge.
So, as a 29-year-old on the brink of divorce, I wondered: Would the pieces of the family puzzle ever fall into place for me? Feeling something shy of optimistic about love, I half-joked with my parents that I might go the sperm bank route someday. Mom just shook her head, and Dad balked at the idea of me paying for such a “procedure.” Trying to keep a straight face, he oh-so-generously offered to drop me off at the corner bar instead.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, for your blog! I am 29 and today marks week 1 of having THE talk with my husband of 5 years. I have so many random emotions going through my head I don’t even know where to begin. Your blog is already helping though and is greatly appreciated.
Thanks for letting me know, Erin! I am sorry to hear that you’re going through this. I don’t know if there’s a chance for reconciliation still or not, but whatever the outcome, I wish you much peace and happiness. I hope you’ll consider submitting a post yourself! It would be great to hear from someone who is right in the thick of things.
Your blog is amazing. I just found it today. This post, in particular, encapsulates all the emotions/challenges/frustrations I have been feeling and incapable of expressing. Thank you!
Emma,
I found this blog today from SITS. I haven’t read the SITS suggested blogs in awhile but the title of your blog grabbed me because I’ll be 31 this year and am currently going through a divorce. I’ve read up to this point and I almost feel like I’m reading my own story (although I’m sure I couldn’t write it as well). I’m living with my parents, figuring out how to telecommute from home, digging myself out of debt, and hearing people make the “be glad you didn’t have kids” comment. It’s amazing how similar these stories really are. Thanks for writing this blog and putting yourself and your story out there. Oh and I LOVE your blog banner. It’s awesome! This is exactly what I needed today, and I’m going to keep reading. Thanks.
Anna
Anna´s last [type] ..A Dontation Quilt- Oh How Charming!
Definitely a misplaced assurance ['thank god you didn't have kids']. I divorced at 28 with 3 kids in tow. Divorce is messy with or without kids. I do think the comment they search for is more along the lines of ‘since you didn’t want to have ties to him having no kids frees you of that’.
.-= Anne Bender´s last blog ..1987, You & Me Had Such Good Times =-.
Another comment that frequently accompanied a pat on the back was, “Thank God you didn’t have kids with him.” Very true..
This comment really hit home because I can relate so well. I am a 28 yr old soon to be going through a divorce. I have heard so many times from people “Thank god, you don’t have children.” I think they think it will help you feel better, but in my perspective it only brings more pain. Many of my friends are in the process of trying to have a baby or are pregnant and it just hurts so much more. I understand exactly how you feel.
and have made that very same joke to my mother! sperm bank……
one of the things I am completely terrified about leaving my husband, is I am so desperate to have a child, my biggest fear is that he will go out and get someone pregnant straight away. it is this fear that has kept me (until now) in my marriage. so can very much relate to how leaving your marriage makes you wander when it will happen for you?
I laughed my ass off at that
ATTN Dad/Grampa Pete: Not many people could pull off the comment, but under the circumstances, you did! I thought it was funny then and I do now. ATTN readers: Both Dad and I are 100% supportive of any women who choose the donor route. And Dad is among the most feminist men I know!
Hmmm, I don’t really remember that in the same way, but the way I do remember would cast me in an even worse light than this already does…
Ah, my uncle, what a card.