But I think the worst part of the whole situation for me is that despite my and my husband’s commitment to keep the sad reality of divorces out of my childrens’ worlds, they’ve been thrust into it anyways. Other than us, their parents, one of the most stable examples of a successful marriage that they had to look to has been shattered. It makes me sad, and maybe a little bit resentful.
The world’s a tough place, and maybe my kids will end up divorced themselves. I’m going to work hard to try to teach them to choose a partner for the right reasons, and to teach them that a marriage is work; work you don’t get to give up on until you’ve given it absolutely everything you’ve got. But I can’t predict the future, no matter how much I peer into the crystal ball for reassurance that their lives will be blessed.
I’ve been telling myself that maybe I should be grateful for the lesson my kids are learning early, that maybe there’s a benefit in them having to see a couple close to them separate their lives and move on to new ones. I haven’t quite convinced myself yet. I’m still adjusting to the slight shift in my own reality, and I’m not positive how I feel about it affecting theirs.
But what I do know is that in my house, in my marriage, divorce still isn’t an option. (Unless my husband turns out to be an undercover serial killer, of course, but I’m fairly certain I’m nosy enough about his activities that I would have found him out by now.) I’m going to focus on keeping my own marriage as strong as possible, not just for the sake of setting a good example, but for the simple fact that I love my husband deeply and want to focus that love into creating a happy home for the family that we’ve created. Our kids will have to venture beyond it someday, and they’ll have many role models other than us. All I can do is my best, and hope it’s enough.