Finding Our Way as Parents

I wake up and roll over. The other side of the bed is neatly made. He slept on the couch again. We fought last night and he stormed out. I didn’t even think about going into the living room to try and talk it out. At this point, there is no talking it out. We just fight. Constantly. Later, I’m in the kitchen making breakfast. Our 10- and 7-year-olds sit at the table as their father walks in. “Daddy, you look sleepy,” says the littlest one. He glares at me. “Oh, Daddy just didn’t sleep great last night, that’s all.” Like it’s my fault. Like I told him to go sleep on the couch. Maybe I did. I don’t know. I can’t even remember what comes out of my mouth when we are arguing. I’m just so mad at him all of the time. He walks over to the kitchen table and kisses each of our kids on the top of the head. Years ago, they would shout, “kiss mommy, too!” and squeal when he did. But they know better now. Goodness knows the last time we kissed. Or hugged. Or even said something to each other that wasn’t dripping with disdain. The girls shoot glances at each other. They quietly eat their cereal.

Once it stopped being about our relationship with each other and started being about our relationship with the kids, we were finally able to turn a corner

When we are around them, we try to pretend that everything is fine. We fight behind closed doors, but I can hear them scurrying away when one of us inevitably throws the door open to leave. I don’t know how this is affecting them, but I worry about the ramifications of divorce. I often wonder if it’s better for them to grow up in a house that’s ‘together’ but unhappy, or happy and apart. I worry about what kind of parents we will become.

It Happened

I didn’t have to wonder for very long. When he asked for a divorce, I felt relieved. Relieved that I didn’t have to take the first step. Relieved that finally, something might change. We started off with a mediator because we had literally forgotten how to talk to each other. But, as time went on, it got easier to communicate. The biggest step was that we had to trust that we were both putting our children first. Once it stopped being about our relationship with each other and started being about our relationship with the kids, we were finally able to turn a corner.

18 Months Later

It’s his weekend with the girls. I’m on my way to pick them up. I ring the doorbell of his condo. I hear their footsteps as they throw open the door. “Mommy!” They yell in unison. Their father walks up behind them. He smiles and gives me a small wave. “Did you girls tell your mom the exciting news?” Our littlest grins wide, a large space where her top tooth once was. “Your tooth! Did the tooth fairy come?” She and her father both nod. “Five dollars.” he says, “the tooth fairy is going to go broke soon.” I smile and gather the girls. “Will we see you at Hannah’s soccer game Tuesday?” I ask. “I’ll be there.” he says. I wave over my shoulder as the girls and I head to the car. He is not mine anymore. But he is theirs. And for that, I am grateful.