From the very beginning of our relationship, my partner and I envisioned a life filled with children. It was an unspoken agreement even before our engagement, a confident “of course” whenever the topic arose. Our desire for a family was one of the cornerstones of our marriage. We shared similar views on parenting, discipline, and values, all of which made the idea of children a significant goal in our union.
However, we never achieved that goal. Despite the marriage, the dog, and the purchase of our home, there was an intangible barrier preventing us from starting a family. Our unresolved issues only seemed to grow larger over time. I was often critical and held onto grudges, while he was frequently dishonest, or so I believed. After five years of marriage and three years of counseling, it became clear that these problems were as persistent as the sunrise, leading us to separate.
The divorce shattered me. It wasn’t merely the acute sense of failure that still lingers as my greatest shame. It wasn’t solely the trauma of leaving the home we had built together for an unfamiliar place or the loss of mutual friends who felt compelled to choose sides. What truly broke me was the perception that I should be okay.
Everyone—yes, everyone from my family to colleagues—claimed I was “lucky.” Lucky because we had no children, lucky to avoid custody battles, lucky to have a “clean break.” Terms like “simple” and “easy” were tossed around as if confetti at my unwanted “Newly Single” event. Even the legal system treated our marriage as insignificant. I filled out a form, paid a fee, and within just 13 days received a letter confirming our divorce. The process was less complex than transferring a car title.
When you experience a “lucky” divorce, people assume you’re coping well. Few inquire about your emotional state or offer help. The neatness of a clean break gives the illusion that everything is in order. So, I pretended to be fine. At social gatherings, I avoided discussing my situation.
When asked about my weekends, I shared mundane activities like cleaning or visiting family. I never revealed that I spent nights crying on the couch or that I left my home only to walk my dog. I didn’t mention the tears I shed in my car before even reaching home, after a long day of feigning happiness. I concealed the hours spent scrolling through pictures of my ex, resisting the urge to reach out and plead for reconciliation.
The end of my marriage broke my heart in ways I never thought possible. It dismantled the life I envisioned and erased my future aspirations. The children I dreamed of never materialized, and the golden years with my partner faded away.
The fears of starting anew were overwhelming. I questioned whether I would ever find love again. Would I have children if I did? Was it the right decision to leave him behind despite our issues? Would I ever stop loving a man I might never see again? The thought of never seeing him—something others viewed as a positive—devastated me the most, as I longed for his presence. At times, I even wished we had children, just to maintain a connection.
I’m certain many individuals who have divorced with children wish they had made a clean break like mine. They might envy my situation, thinking it lucky to avoid the complexities they faced. Yet, I assure you, there is no such thing as a lucky divorce. Even the seemingly simple ones can turn your life upside-down and your heart inside-out. The only truly fortunate outcomes are the marriages that never end.
If you’re considering starting a family, you might want to explore options like the at-home intracervical insemination syringe kit. For more information on successful embryo implantation, refer to this reputable guide. Additionally, for those interested in fertility treatments, Hopkins Medicine provides excellent resources.
In summary, divorce is never easy, regardless of the circumstances. It reshapes your life in ways you can’t foresee, leaving emotional scars that may take time to heal.