Photo: Alyssa Bistonath
Marriages sometimes end.
I should know that better than most people: I?ve been a family-law clerk for 14 years?my entire adult life?and I, myself, am a product of divorce. Were it not for marital woes, I wouldn?t have a job. I?ve been toiling in the unhappiness of others for so long, I?ve become desensitized to it?so much so that I thought, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that my sheer exposure and experience alone dictated that I?d never be in the same situation as my clients. I thought I knew the hows and whys better than they did because (I thought) I had insight, while they only had hindsight.
What happened to my marriage is, sadly, so cliché. My husband, Seth, and I just broke it.
When our first son, Isaiah, was born, only a year into our marriage, he was so sick, and we didn?t know why. He was born with a rare disease called galactosemia, an inborn error of metabolism where milk and milk products become like poison to him. Involuntarily, I allowed that to become my focus in extreme ways. I read what felt like the entire Internet. I researched developmental milestones, dairy-free recipes and calcium supplements. When I got bad news, I tried to position myself against it?as the person who would have a ?best case? outcome. I cried at doctors? appointments and had difficulty falling asleep every night. The stress was overwhelming. I took his illness on my shoulders and let it wear deep grooves into my skin. I let the guilt of our combined bad genetics...