He was silent, unable to deny the truth in my words.
For the first time in a long time, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It dawned on him that he had taken my love and dedication for granted. While he had been wallowing in his grief and anger, I had been building a life with his children, one filled with warmth and support.
I knew it was time for a change, not just for me, but for the kids. I made the decision to move forward with a separation, prioritizing the well-being of our family over a dysfunctional marriage. It was a tough choice, but one that was necessary for us to heal and grow.
In the weeks that followed, I filed for custody of the children. George realized that his actions had consequences, and he began to seek therapy to address his unresolved grief and anger. I encouraged the kids to maintain a relationship with their father, knowing that forgiveness and understanding were essential for their emotional well-being.
Through it all, I learned that being a mother isn’t about whose name is on the birth certificate. It’s about the love you give, the time you invest, and the memories you create. I may have been “only half the mom” in George’s eyes, but to Nick, Emma, and Mason, I was their whole world. And that was more than enough for me.