Putting the Pieces Back Where They Belong

A love story.

Marriage changes you. So does motherhood. Not necessarily in a bad way, but unexpectedly for sure.

Before I became somebody’s wife, then somebody else’s mother, there was just me. A grown-up version of a little girl who had been raised in a loving middle-class family and dreamt about “making it big” someday — whatever that meant.

I worked hard, got an education, and got busy making my mark on the professional world. Somewhere along the way I fell in love and got married. In retrospect, I should have waited a few years before doing that…but now I’m getting ahead of myself.

Life together

Five years after the wedding, we had our first child, followed by two more to complete our family of five. I tried to maintain some semblance of a career while my first two were young. I was a well-educated and ambitious woman who never envisioned herself as a stay-at-home mom.

But as time went on, I wanted to do more for my children. I wanted them to have the same experiences I did growing up. A mom who welcomed them home after school with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies and a cold glass of milk, and who volunteered as Room Mom and the Girl Scout troop leader. Summers off to take my kids to the town pool became the priority over getting a bonus at work or investing in a 401(k). Besides, by then my husband was the primary breadwinner and we could live quite comfortably on his salary alone.

Together we made the decision that I would stay home full-time with the kids. For four full years, we lived a lifestyle reminiscent of the 1950s. While my husband was off climbing the corporate ladder, I was left to take care of the little ones—managing meals, school drop-offs and pickups, homework, baths, and bedtime.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

With no regrets, I fully embraced my new life and never looked back.

Life apart

Until one day when our youngest started kindergarten and my husband confessed that he wasn’t happy. In fact, he didn’t want to be married anymore. If I admit to being blindsided, I know it makes me sound weak and pathetic. But honestly, I hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Raising kids can be all-consuming and I never even realized how much I’d been neglecting my marriage, and myself.

We tried marriage counseling to see if we could rekindle some of what had drawn us together in the first place, but that didn’t work. He moved into his own apartment and we began planning for a divorce.

Bouncing back—slowly

But this isn’t a story about splitting up, any more than it’s a story about deep pain and anguish.

No, the story I get to share is one of resilience and strength. About overcoming adversity and learning more about yourself than you ever imagined. How that pivotal moment thrust me forward and helped me rediscover what I had lost — ME.

Getting from Point A to Point B wasn’t easy. I hardly got out of bed during Week One of living in the house I had shared with my husband for eight years. The kids ran wild throughout the neighborhood while I wallowed beneath my covers in self-pity. Thank goodness for family and friends. I wouldn’t have survived that time without them.

Most of that month was a blur. Perhaps the four years prior had been too. Once I finally took a good hard look in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. I had become not the same person who met my husband at the altar as a naive 23-year-old bride. That bride had dreams and ambitions, while the woman in the mirror was lost and confused.

I could have stayed stuck on that image, tried to figure out exactly what went wrong. With me. With him. With us. But those points were moot. I had three kids who needed me at my best—even though I still didn’t know what that meant.

Overcoming such an abrupt and life-altering experience like having your marriage ripped out from underneath you is devastating. But I eventually broke it apart into smaller pieces, making it easier to digest. I got a job, found a babysitter, prioritized the relationships in my life I still had time and energy to cultivate and let the rest go. Before long, I settled into a routine again.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Just like before, with one thing missing. The man I still loved.

Moving on

While I was off searching for the best way to balance a career with being a single mom, who knows what he was doing. We only saw each other when it came time for him to visit the kids and we kept our interactions short and cordial. We never really argued, just got sad when we crossed paths. I was sad because I missed him. I grieved the loss of our life together and wished we could have made it work for the sake of our kids. But it didn’t, and I eventually accepted the reality that I had to move on.

Slowly, I found myself re-energized. Even though I was exhausted, burning the candle at both ends, I started feeling like myself again. Like the girl who thrived on a challenge other than how to clean the kitchen in less than thirty minutes or where to hang the picture I’d just found on sale at Bed, Bath & Beyond. The face in the mirror was morphing into another version of myself — not just the woman I’d left behind years ago, but a woman with more confidence, more self-assurance, and more giddy-up in her step.

There I was. A mom. An independent career woman. Someone who had finally arrived, come into her own and just may have needed that push off the ledge to get there.

Reunited

But that’s not the best part. Yes, this is primarily a story about rediscovering my true self. A reunion of sorts with me, myself, and I. But after almost a year of living independently — and not just tolerating it, but enjoying it sometimes too — I was presented with the opportunity to reunite with my husband.

I know what some of you are thinking right now — why would you ever give that schmuck the time of day when he gave up on you and your kids like that? If that describes you, you’re missing the point.

My husband had fallen in love with someone who had ceased to exist. I’m not making excuses for him, but that’s what happened. And even though we take vows of “for better or for worse,” I wouldn’t have wanted to wake up next to a stranger every morning either. Yes, marriage and parenthood change you, but it’s important to stay true to yourself along the way.

Life lessons

Sometimes I think our time apart was the best thing that ever happened to me. I know that sounds odd, but it gave me the incentive to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be. I know plenty of people who simply muddle through their lives without looking within and reflecting on themselves, especially women, who have a natural tendency to worry more about others than themselves. I didn’t have that luxury. But, my husband’s absence gave me the freedom to be truly selfish for the first time in my adult life. How often do we get to say that?

The other silver lining to our time apart was that it taught some valuable lessons to our kids. Although they were young at the time, the older two remember what they’ve coined as “The Dark Days.” They may recall a few of those nights when I cried myself to sleep, or how pathetic my husband’s bachelor pad looked because he never really made himself at home there. But they also saw how much we loved each other and how hard we fought to bring our family back together.

We made a pact before we seriously considered ripping up the divorce papers and resuming our life together under the same roof:

If my husband was going to move back in, we’d have to be sure. As sure as anyone can ever be.

It wouldn’t have been fair to turn our kids’ lives upside down the way we had more than once, so we waited and waited until we knew it was right.

Until we knew it was forever.

Final thoughts

That was fifteen years ago. My husband and I are now empty nesters. Our love for each other has never been stronger and we’re looking forward to the next chapter in our lives.

We still talk about the Dark Days sometimes. We’re fairly open about it with our friends and family, although probably not as open as I’ve been in this essay for the whole world to read. It’s almost as if we wear our experience as a badge of honor, an example of how great marriage can be if you’re willing to put in the work.

Splitting up with my husband was the hardest thing I’ve ever lived through — and that even includes a battle with breast cancer. But coming back together is our greatest accomplishment as we both grew and changed for the better along the way. I’ll always be grateful that we never gave up and that I’m able to share our version of finally “making it big.”