Being a single Mom

In the beginning...

First, let me start by saying this wasn't my plan. I never thought I would ever get so close to what I always wanted, a family of my own, only to watch it fall apart before my very eyes. I got married on April 29, 2006 to the man I thought I would stand beside for the rest of my days. I fought infertility for almost three years before finding my first success with in vitro fertilization (IVF). I say "I fought", and not "we fought", because I felt truly alone in this battle. The man I married chastised me for worrying too much and for trying to go to a specialist to find out if anything was wrong.



Then, throughout my pregnancy with Emma, I was constantly trying to get my husband involved; telling him what was going on with Emma that week and what next milestone we had to look forward to next. I always thought I'd marry one of those guys that would caress my belly, feeling for the slightest movement from the miracle growing inside me. As it turned out, he never did - unless I asked him to. I even made him a PDF document with weekly updates of what was happening so he could read it on his iPad between the blogs that he followed. He never seemed to find the time; although he did manage to find time to keep up with his blogs. I was hurt that we weren't a priority, but I was afraid to speak up. I was always afraid to speak up to him - hard to believe for those that know me, I'm sure. But when we found out about Emma's medical condition he shut me out completely. He wouldn't openly talk to me about any of the risks Emma and I both faced, or about the fears that loomed over my every waking moment. The doctors painted a dire picture for Emma, and they pointed out that carrying her to term, if she made it that long, could jeopardize my chances to ever sustain another pregnancy - if I made it through it all. None of this concerned my husband.

When the going gets tough...

Then the unthinkable happened - he told me that he was thinking about leaving me. I figured it was just him struggling to accept what we had just learned about our daughter. For the next month and a half I walked on egg shells; trying to hold together the threads of a marriage that was unraveling before my eyes. I wanted to believe I was superglue and could hold together the family I thought I had. But to him, we were "not compatible." I couldn't understand how we could go from being compatible to being incompatible so suddenly.

On December 1st of 2010, he told me he wanted a divorce. My husband told me he was in love with someone else; someone younger who was already engaged to marry another man. He told me he wouldn't consider counseling, as he had tried to make our marriage work. I was shocked and amazed that I had found myself in a place of so little love and support, and worse, that I had been willing to accept it as though that was all I deserved.

He was right; we were not compatible, but looking back I don't think we ever really were. I loved my family, despite any of their faults, and wanted to share my life with them. He wasn't close to his, and made little effort to be until I began facilitating it. I wanted to travel and see the world. He didn't want to plan the trip, pack, fly, or leave the familiar behind - so I did all of it for him for the few trips we did take. I loved people and enjoyed spending time with friends. He said he didn't like people but admired my social skills, so I tried to help him make connections with others. I supported him when he went back to school full time, and in return I gained far less love and support than I gave. I was always trying to help him be happy and put my own happiness on the back burner - except when it came to having a child. I pushed to have kids, and he always told me he was on board. Now, I wonder if he wasn't ready.

The tough gets going...

It took me several months and some counseling to reach the point where I began to ask myself, "Why was I holding on so strongly to something that wasn't holding me back?" At one point, shortly after he told me he was leaving, he asked me why I wasn't yelling at him. He said he felt he deserved it and would understand if I did, but I simply said "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed. I shouldn't have to convince my husband to stay."

I was afraid of failure. Despite what he thought, I wasn't afraid of losing him or getting divorced. I was afraid of looking back and feeling I failed at something that I didn't try hard enough at. I was afraid of failing myself. He felt I was afraid of being a statistic, because most parents that go through what we went through don't come out on the other side smiling and happy to be together. If they remain together, it is a long hard road; mending things that were broken along the way. But both parents have to want to put in that effort. That's when I realized that I was the only one that would be willing to put that effort into our relationship. So I began to focus on my future relationship - the one that would be with me the rest of my life - the one that would mean more to me than any other - the relationship I would have with my daughter.

Christmas that year was hard, but luckily I have wonderful relatives that helped me focus on the baby that was constantly kicking me, as if to say, "I'm coming to see you just as soon as I'm strong enough." I had to focus on the great things to come, because I didn't have the luxury of grieving the loss of the family I thought I would have. I was on full bed rest with a high risk pregnancy, and to keep Emma safe I had to shelve my need to grieve until a later date. I did that for eight long and painful weeks. I was having painful contractions and dependent on my husband to come by and take care of my three dogs. I didn't want to see him, but I was afraid if I didn't allow him to help that he wouldn't stick around for our daughter. I didn't want to be the reason he wasn't there for her.

And this mom is tough and will keep going...

After Emma was born, I went to the NICU to see her every day from around eight or nine in the morning until five or six in the evening. I hated leaving her, but I still had three dogs at home that needed to be cared for as well. It was extremely rare for her father to spend time with her if I was there. He would see her only in the evenings for a couple hours on the nights he did visit. On occasion, he gave me a ride to the hospital on the weekend, but didn't even come up to see her. Once she came home, it was 5 days before he came to visit Emma. He came by for other reasons but wouldn't spend time with her. I even invited him to stay and care for her overnight. It wasn't until he had a lawyer for our divorce that he started visiting on a regular basis and took me up on the offer.

During the divorce, I kept trying to make sure Emma's father would be involved with her care by attending her doctors' appointments and therapy sessions. My lawyer told me I couldn't force him to be a responsible father or even a good one, and he was right - her father still makes little effort to attend appointments or therapies. All I could do was focus on making sure I was a responsible parent.

After almost seventeen months, my divorce finalized in court. Two months later, he signed the decree. I continue to focus my attention on Emma, but now I can live my life again as well. I won't allow myself to keep quiet because I want to be heard. I want to be loved and respected; admired and adored; supported and challenged. And this time, I won't settle.