My life story is incredibly personal.  It is hard for me to put into words the emotion that comes along with becoming a mother and a wife.  It is even harder to express the pain of becoming a single mother and living with divorce.  However, I am willing to put it out there for the world to see in an effort to reach just one woman who may have had to make the same tough choices I had to make.  Perhaps there is someone else out there who can relate to my issues and with that in mind; I am willing to chronicle my life. 

 I decided in 2003, to end my 5 year marriage, 8 year relationship, to the father of my four children.  It was a decision I did not take lightly, and it was by far the most difficult personal struggle I have ever encountered.  Please allow me to disclaim that I am in no way promoting divorce, but simply stating what going through the process was like for me.        

Let me preface the situation with our history together.  I had been dating Jeremy since I was a senior in high school.  After graduating high school, we went on to college together at Marquette University.  I was working towards my degree in secondary education that I intended on using to become an English teacher.  I was also minoring in Psychology because I thought I might want to move onto counseling later in life.  

 My world came to a screeching halt one day when I became pregnant right before the second semester of my sophomore year.   Now, many may think simply being pregnant brought forth some sort of moral dilemma or inner turmoil for me.  Was I going to have the child or have an abortion?  I know many woman, especially at the age of 19, choose to terminate the pregnancy and move on, but that was a thought I never entertained, not even for a second.  I have been adamantly pro-life since I was old enough to know what an abortion was, so it was time to back up all the preaching I had done over the years with action.

 Instead, I chose to drop out of school and become a stay-at-home mom while Jeremy continued with his education and graduated with an engineering degree.  I had always said I was never going to let someone else raise my children, so the decision for me to stay home with my daughter seemed to be compulsory.  We got married shortly after I had Kylie because it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do.  We had already sinned in the eyes of the Lord by having a child out of wedlock, we were certainly not going to “push our luck” any further in the eyes of the church, the Lord, or our parents! 

This is where the real problems developed.  I lived a very miserable existence in my marriage because I had grown up with a religion that taught me divorce was a sin not easily forgiven. I was determined to obey the church.  I was so unhappy.  My husband was unhappy.  We fought all the time and neither of us showed the other nearly the respect we deserved.   We had periods of good times, but the fighting far outweighed the times of peace.  

 We went on to have 3 more children.  Many people that were viewing the situation from the outside kept asking why we continued to have more children if the relationship was so rough from the beginning.   Looking back, as hindsight is always 20/20, I see now that we thought sharing another pregnancy and another baby would bring us closer together.  The relationship was so empty that I just kept filling the void with another baby that helped absorb my pain.   And again, it wasn’t all bad, all the time.  We had periods of time together when things really were good.  I would venture a guess that those periods would be around the time of my children’s conception!

  I take accountability for my part in the mess we had created.  I came into the marriage with having zero knowledge of what a healthy relationship looked like.  I was way too young to even comprehend the vastness of my decision to get married.  I had also walked into the marriage from the start with such a strong resentment built up towards my husband because of the situation we were in.  When we got pregnant in college, I had to drop out of school and he continued with his education.  I can see clearly now that the choice for me to leave school and get married was just as much my decision as his, but throughout the marriage, I couldn’t see past the hostility that decision filled my heart with.  It was a recipe for disaster from the beginning. 

 The anger, resentment, hostility, lack of respect and so forth had taken its toll on our children as well.  They were the real stakeholders in my life.  They were the primary shareholders of this marriage and I was so determined to “do right” that I didn’t even see the hurt we were creating in their lives.

  On one evening in particular, that became blindingly clear.  The children were attending a Catholic elementary school, and Jeremy and I were at an open house the school was hosting.  Outside of my son’s preschool classroom was a paper quilt that each of the kids had made.  They were to draw a picture of what they prayed to God about.  My son’s quilt had a sweet picture of his mommy on one side and his daddy on the other side with him placed so perfectly in the middle of our “happy family.”  It was the ideal image that I held so dear to my heart, and I was so pleased that is was out there for everyone to admire.  Written below this model picture, captioned in my son’s own words read, “I pray that God will help my mommy and daddy stop fighting so much.”  

GASP!!!  

There, hanging in the hallway of our Catholic school, attached to the church that I was so eagerly appeasing with my “happy family”, was the truth articulated by our four year old for all to see.  

It was one of the lowest moments of my life.  What had I done?  What had we done to this child and our other children at home?  What happened to my perfect, ideal life?  Where was the integrity and honesty behind all of my fake smiles throughout the years?  Most importantly, how was I going to fix it?

  I was determined at this point to make the marriage work.  I had to for the sake of all I believed in.  My personal code of ethics was at stake here along with the stability of my children’s lives.  I couldn’t possibly let my children grow up in a “broken” home.  I couldn’t fathom the thought of going to school functions as a divorcee.  It was an embarrassment.  I was not going to break up my family and disgrace my children or myself in the eyes of the church, or for that matter, anyone else who may be watching.  I was not going to be a hypocrite to my own code of conduct.  I had an obligation to uphold an image, the right image. 

Over the course of the next year and a half, my husband and I put forth what I believe to be our best efforts at saving the marriage.  As ironic as it may seem, things actually got worse instead of better.  All the therapy we were attending managed to do was make me realize how unhappy I really was.  I felt trapped.  I wanted out, but I felt it was at such a high cost; my children’s wellbeing.  I was trying to adhere to the utilitarian belief that staying in this marriage was the greatest good for the greatest number.

 In my mind, there was no way I could possibly be happy and make my children happy at the same time.  I couldn’t possibly have “the best of both worlds.”  Either I stayed in my miserable life for the kids’ sake, or I leave and become the most selfish, horrible mother in this world.  It soon dawned on me though that staying in my unhappy marriage for the sake of my children was at my children’s expense.

  What kind of a mother was I really being when I was depressed, angry and hostile each and every day?  The stress of it all even took a toll on my health.  I was in and out of the hospital all the time for migraine headaches and severe asthma problems.  I finally made the call to take control of my life and alter the code of ethics I was so desperate to uphold.

 I have since divorced and remarried the man of my dreams.  Unbelievably, my ex and I are great friends and get along so well it’s almost scary.  He is involved in the children’s lives on a daily basis.  I have found that doing what is best for me, ends up reflecting on every aspect of my life, including my children.  I have a new sense of self worth and a much healthier quality of life to sustain.  I am stronger than ever and setting an even better example for my children than fulfilling the cliché.

 I still have my crosses to bear in the eyes of the church and many others for that matter, but I face those demons with prayer and faith that I am doing the best I can.   I cannot lie; the guilt of the divorce still haunts me to this day; it probably always will.  Guilt can be as deadly to the soul as cancer.  At times, when I forget to put it in its place, it starts to control my life again.  During these moments, I try to accept the mercy that God has given all of us…even a divorcee like me.  I would say that the second-guessing and inner turmoil are the daily, negative consequences of the way I ultimately chose to run my “family business.”   Each time one of my children acts up or seems to be struggling with an emotional issue, I question whether that would be happening had I stayed married to their dad. 

 I can honestly say that on most days, my children are happy and well adjusted to our situation.  They get to see a happy, strong, self-aware mother who does what she needs to do for her family and not what others think she should be doing.  That in turn, has created strong, happy, healthy children and an environment that is a joy to live in and be a part of.  

 Would they be more secure or happier had I stayed in a loveless marriage for their sake?  I’m sure many would say yes, however I feel that only our good Lord knows that.  For now, I take comfort in the hugs I receive each morning, the smiling faces I put to bed at night.

 I take comfort in knowing that although my personal story has taken some unexpected turns, and perhaps not always the path of least resistance, it is still my story to write and my road to navigate.