When I look back at those difficult years, its almost hard to believe I made it through. My husband was my greatest support until my son turned three. Then, he was gone.
I married at eighteen. My husband was twenty years older than me, and I suppose I was drawn to his maturity. Within a year, we welcomed a daughter, then a son. He stood by me through everything. With his encouragement, I managed to find my footing and finish my studies. But just after our youngest turned three, my husband packed up and left us for good.
I wept for months. I honestly couldnt imagine surviving on my own with two children. There wasnt anyone trustworthy I could leave them with, so work was out of the question.
The maintenance payments barely covered the essentialshow on earth was I supposed to manage? Still, I did all I could. After a while, my son started at nursery, so I took up a job. Then, out of nowhere, my estranged husband reappeared. He began apologising and asked to return to the family. I told him firmly:
Weve learned how to manage without you. Not once did you think of your children while you were away. Now you turn up seeking forgiveness? Please, just leave us in peace.
A month later, he tried to take me to court, hoping to gain custody of the children. Of course, he put on a grand show, but the children stayed with me.
Six months passed before I discovered the real reason for his sudden change of heart. His father had left a will for our children. Sadly for himnothing came his way.
Its all behind us now, but Ill never forget those days of making one loaf of bread stretch a week, going hungry myself so Harper and George had something to eat. Those memories, though painful, remind me of how far weve come and the strength I found when I thought I had none.
