I was chatting with an old acquaintance, Lisa, when she mentioned, “I’m entering my new chapter as a single mom.” I was seated next to my wife, Sara, on a flight home after celebrating our 11th anniversary on a beautiful Caribbean cruise.
Curious, I quickly texted back, hoping to get a response before the plane took off. “Wait… single mom? Did I miss something?”
Lisa replied, “Yeah, I guess. Tom and I divorced in May.”
It was now November.
I turned to Sara, who was gazing out the window at the darkening sky. “Lisa and Tom split up earlier this year,” I said, surprise evident in my voice. “How did I not know about this?”
Sara responded with mild concern, “That’s unfortunate.” Then her gaze returned to the window.
Lisa was more of my friend than Sara’s. We had been college buddies for years, and during the early days of my marriage, I often sought her advice. She had two kids and had been married for five years before I met her. She understood the challenges of parenthood and marriage, and her insights were invaluable. She helped me navigate the complexities of our new life after our first son was born, reassuring me that sleepless nights and disagreements were common.
“What happened?” I texted. “Did you grow apart, or was there something more?”
Learning that a marriage I admired had fallen apart was unsettling. I reflected on how little I had connected with Lisa in recent years. Most of our conversations were through social media, and I had assumed everything was fine between her and Tom, based on their pictures of vacations and family outings. This made me question whether I was truly aware of my own marriage’s state.
Divorce is a topic that weighs heavily on my mind—not because I wish for one, but rather because I want to prevent it. My mother has been married three times, and my father passed away while divorcing his third wife. I’ve seen firsthand the turmoil that divorce can inflict on children. While some parents manage it gracefully, mine did not. They fought over everything, belittled each other, and used us as pawns in their disputes. It was a painful experience.
What’s most daunting is my lack of understanding regarding my parents’ divorce. I was only nine when it happened, so my memories are vague and muddled—filled with small arguments and neglect that eventually spiraled into infidelity and separation. This history makes me apprehensive about my marriage, as if I’m waiting for the inevitable.
This isn’t to say I don’t cherish Sara; I love her deeply. However, the weight of my past makes me anxious, especially after reading Lisa’s next message: “It’s been a gradual decline over 16 years. It wasn’t a singular event; it was a slow process. We didn’t realize just how lonely we had become…”
At that moment, the flight attendant requested we switch our phones to airplane mode. I turned to Sara, showing her the text exchange. “This terrifies me. It’s like divorce is a weed slowly overtaking a garden. I wonder if that’s what happened with my parents.”
Sara contemplated this, adjusting her seatbelt as we began our ascent. “But we just enjoyed a lovely cruise,” she replied.
“Sure, I know,” I said. “I was with you.”
“Before the cruise, I was overwhelmed with school and the kids. The trip helped me recharge.”
I considered her thoughts. “But we can’t escape on vacation every time things get tough; that’s not feasible.”
Indeed, this had been our biggest vacation together in our eleven years as a couple.
“I understand,” Sara replied. “But I think it’s all about maintenance.” She continued, explaining that if our marriage is like a garden, we must consistently tend to it. “We need to make time for each other and prioritize our love. You text me almost daily to say ‘I love you.’ Your parents likely didn’t do that.”
“Are you suggesting it’s the little things that matter?” I asked.
Sara shrugged. “Yes, I believe so. I know you love me.”
“And you know I love you,” I affirmed.
“Exactly,” she said.
While I still felt a nagging worry about Lisa and Tom, I also felt a surge of love for Sara. I began to see how the small gestures we shared were adding up to something significant. Leaning in, I kissed her gently.
“See?” Sara smiled. “We just pulled some weeds.”
For more insights on maintaining love and understanding during challenging times, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination. To explore more about the home insemination process, visit this informative post and learn about the impregnator at home insemination kit.
Summary
Navigating the complexities of marriage requires ongoing care and attention. The fear of divorce can loom large, especially when witnessing the breakdown of relationships we once admired. By prioritizing love and nurturing our connections through small, consistent gestures, we can cultivate a thriving partnership.