Sixteen years later, Suzanne Finnamore’s son Pablo tells her how his parents’ split looked from a child’s perspective: “It was like being a double agent.”
Sixteen years ago, my first husband sallied out the door toward his new life with another woman and a baby on the way. “You’ll get the papers next week,” he said, the automatic window of his SUV sliding up as he roared off. Meanwhile, there was already a baby at our house. His name was Pablo. “Oh my God,” I thought. “How will we get through this without a husband and a father? Will our son grow up angry? Will he be devastated? Resentful?”
Nearly two decades later, Pablo isn’t psychologically maimed, or plotting his revenge against us as I’d originally feared. In fact, he’s just fine.
He was a baby when we split, and then a boy, and young boys don’t talk much about feelings. I never really knew all of what went on in his curly-haired head. Now that he’s 18, it feels like the right time for us to talk about the divorce – what I did ...
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