The first time my daughter was only three.
She looked at me with velvety brown eyes, confused: “Mummy, why did you kick Daddy?”
“I didn’t kick him sweetie,” I said, exhausted.
“Yes you did!” she said with toddler triumph, “Aunty Milena said you kicked Daddy …OUT OF THE HOUSE!”
My marriage had ended. Sam was a decent human being; soft-hearted, hard-working. But I didn’t love him anymore. It took a week of crying, talking, yelling, and more crying. Eventually he came to understand that for no apparent reason, I simply didn’t love him anymore. His wife didn’t want to be married to him and he would no longer live with Livvy.
According to the Australian Bureau of statistics, every third marriage ends in divorce. My family is certainly keeping the numbers high – both of my two sisters and I have been married, divorced and re-married. Our parents remain the most happy-in-love couple I know.
In the days and weeks following, Liv was sometimes quiet and she’d dip into a sad little funk. At other times she thought the change to our household was hilarious, it was soooo funny that Daddy had actually gone to live with Nonna! Was she making him Pasta Broccoli, his favourite, every day? Was he parking in Nonno’s driveway?
I watched as she merrily made friends at kinder and waved her off for weekend fun with Dad and her aunties and grandparents while I worked. She coped with it.
Her Dad moved away to the country when she was still in primary school and contact between them waned.
Maintaining father-child contact post divorce is crucial to the child’s emotional development, according to Ruth Weston, General Manager (Research) of the Australian Institute of Family Studies.
“Marriage breakdown is almost always a highly disruptive and stressful experience …there is ample evidence that children of separated or divorced parents have an increased risk of experiencing a broad range of adjustment problems, including high anxiety, social withdrawal, low self-esteem, delinquency in adolescence, and poor school achievement.”
I watched her grow into a very social, friendly girl that did well in school and sport. She is very close with Charlie, her boyfriend of two years, overall Liv seems very well adjusted. She’s been working hard, saving for her six-month overseas trip in this, her gap year, before uni starts in 2011. We gave her the flights for her eighteenth birthday. She leaves in five weeks.
Liv is rather stoic for a teenage girl, she never gets too emotional and very rarely cries. It’s the only concern I have for her – that she buries everything deep, deep down. The rare time I ever saw her demonstrably upset was a one-off blowup at her Dad. And now me.
I told Liv around a month ago, that her step-father, Craig, and I were separating.
While the divorce rate for first marriages is already frighteningly high, the failure rate jumps to 60 per cent for second marriages. Apparently we second-timers bring a lot of excess baggage with us. Relationships Australia vice president Anne Hollands says problems often begin when couples struggle to negotiate issues such as children, finances and former partners.
At first Liv was confused. Was she in trouble? Had her phone bill gone over the limit again? No, I repeated our marriage was ending.
It sunk in. She flashed those velvety brown eyes, this time pure hatred seemed to flow from them.
“What do you mean?” she spat. “I can’t believe this. THIS IS A JOKE!”
She left the house and stayed at Charlie’s for two weeks. She refused to talk to me. Wouldn’t let me put an arm around her, much less hug her.
I spoke to Charlie’s mum, who thankfully stepped in as caring parental-figure and confidante, but Liv wasn’t talking to anyone.
Finally, I convinced her to have lunch with me. We talked and she thawed a little. Just a little.
“Can you tell me why you’re so angry with me Liv? This is hard for everyone sweetie.”
“You don’t get it Mum. THIS is our home, finally.” And she cried.
While the statistics might help me feel I’m not alone, disenchanted as I am in marriage, they are little comfort. They really only confirm how cliche my situation is. But the reality of my situation, of my decisions, didn’t really dawn on me until I saw how my choices so deeply impact my first person. My girl Liv.
