Yesterday was hard.
I dropped the kids off to Husband for their first overnight stay. Driving them there, I wept silently behind my sunnies. My heart was heavy as I carried their pillows and toothbrushes and clothes and school bags up the stairs to their new second home.
I stared at those naked walls and bare mattresses and hated them for taking my kids from me two nights a week.
I made brief but polite conversation with the stranger who’d been my partner for 23 years, gave my babies a kiss and left. I couldn’t bear to stay, I could barely breathe.
Outside, I cried again. And then I felt a surge of rage. Ugly words filled my head and my fingers itched to translate them into vicious texts.
But lashing out doesn’t do any good.
It doesn’t glue my family back together.
I’m not sure anything can.
Now there’s a scary thought.
housegoeshome 
I think of all the days, that will be the hardest. How I wish I could give you a big, squeezy hug. The love for your family is still there, it’s just shifted and changed. It’s still as strong, just different.
Thanks, trying to organise for that hug soon!
I was about to say exactly what Mary Janes has just said. That first sleepover is the hardest but it gets easier.
I know it will. It’s just the firsts keep coming at the moment and I don’t process fast.
I feel your pain, having experienced the same situation some 15 years ago now. I was blindsided after 19 years of marriage. For me karma stepped in and he lost the best thing that ever happened to us …the kids. As adults now he has no contact with theme and the bitch in me says good, he doesn’t deserve them. In time I hope you will look forward to your child free time, but for now there’s no easy fix. I wish there were.
You’re right, no easy fix. Just have to ride the scary wave (when I’m not a strong swimmer … well, I can dog-paddle 5 metres!).