We were happily childfree for 20 years – then he divorced me to start a family

Divorce, once rare and stigmatised, has become mainstream – 42 per cent of marriages now end this way, meaning nearly half of us who get married can expect to experience it in our lifetime. Just as every marriage is different, so is every divorce. In this column, divorcees reflect on their life-changing experience. Helped by the benefit of hindsight, they share advice and reflections. Molly*, 54, from London, was married to her husband Richard* for 20 years. They agreed to never have kids, until one day, Richard changed his mind, she tells Lucy Cavendish When Richard, my husband of nearly 20 years, said he wanted a divorce five years ago, I was completely blindsided. One minute we were married and living in a really lovely house in north London. The next he said he was unhappy and that he wanted to leave. I was so shocked. I thought we had a brilliant marriage. We were introduced through friends and it was an immediate attraction. Richard was the life and soul of the party. He’s very handsome and witty. We had similar values, the same life vision. We were ambitious and wanted to go places. There were many, many nights spent talking and plotting our future lives together. We were very career-oriented. We didn’t talk then about whether or not we wanted children. Shorts Our relationship moved very quickly. We fell head over heels in love with each other and saw no barriers to getting together. However, there was one problem. I had had one ovary removed when I was in my teens and eventually they found I had polycystic ovaries. The effect was that the remaining ovary wasn’t producing quality eggs. The doctor told me it was highly unlikely I would conceive. He said it very casually. I will never forget it, as if it wouldn’t matter to me. By the time I met Richard, aged 29, I believed I was totally adjusted to the fact that I would never have children. I was enjoying my life. I had a good career, a beautiful flat and great friends. I didn’t feel I was missing out on anything. However, I knew that not everyone would feel that way so I was committed to being open and honest about my lack of fertility. One evening I sat Richard down and I told him we could never have children together. He immediately said it was fine by him but I asked him to go away and think about it. I wanted him to really think about the consequences of what I was saying; no children, not ever. No pitter and patter of tiny feet. Just the two of us forever. Richard said he understood what I was saying and he agreed to take some time to think about it. It took him a week. He eventually came back and said he couldn’t imagine a life without me. He said he loved me intensely. I was his life partner. Of course he had gone through all the scenarios and he painted a picture of a life with me that was very attractive. We would travel, we would have beautiful Christmases on our own or with friends; we would have more money, more disposable income. I was so relieved. So, on the basis of our agreements, we got married. And everything Richard promised me turned out to be true. We had a wonderful marriage and a great life. We had money. We had a beautiful house. We had friends. We were great godparents and a wonderful uncle and aunt to our assorted nieces and nephews. I never once felt there was a child-shaped hole in our life. I would often look at Richard and think how blessed we were. When other families were on the plane trying to amuse fractious children or not having any time to relax, we really were living the best life we could possibly have. Of course sometimes I would wonder what our life would have been like with children. Sometimes I’d ask Richard and he would say that he didn’t miss anything and that his life with me was everything that he ever wanted. Until it wasn’t. When I asked him why he wanted to divorce, he told me that we had grown apart. I told him I didn’t agree with that because I didn’t. I was left very confused and devastated, when a year later, I found out from friends that Richard had got together with someone 15 years younger than him and that she was pregnant with their first child. It completely floored me. It made me question everything we’d ever talked about with each other. I started taking apart every single moment of our marriage. Had I missed something? Had he really been looking at families and thought he wanted a child or had he just fallen in love with another person? I started torturing myself about it. I felt I had somehow failed – failed at being a mother, failed at being a wife, an infertile washed-up, unattractive has-been. After I heard the news, Richard wouldn’t really have anything to do with me; refusing to meet and speak with me face to face, but eventually he did agree to meet. It was a very painful meeting. I told him about how I felt and that I wanted him to answer some questions. In the end, he admitted that it wasn’t just about meeting someone else and falling in love. He said he had gone from thinking he didn’t want children to thinking that he did want children. He realised the only way he could have them and create the family he so dearly wanted was to leave me and meet someone else. I found myself wailing, “but I told you I couldn’t have children. You said you were fine with it. What made you change your mind?” He told me he couldn’t answer that question. All he knew was that he met someone through work and he found himself seeing a future with her and with children and the pitter-patter of tiny feet. He said he was sorry. He felt bad. But he also said that just because I was infertile it didn’t mean to say he needed to give up his fertility. He said agreements change. So, what have I learned from this? I have learned that agreements do change, that what someone says in the first flush of love is not necessarily what they will feel 20 years later. It all feels very strange and it was very painful but I have trained myself not to think about Richard with his new partner, new baby, new life. I know that way madness lies. Instead, I have learned that people move on and that that might look a bit different for all of us. I can’t do anything about the fact that I can’t have children; I’m too old now anyway. What that actually means is the men I meet now either also haven’t had children or their children are grown up and moved home. I have just started seeing someone and we’ve talked a lot about his children and the fact I don’t have children and in many ways I’m rediscovering myself with him. I’ve met his almost-adult children and they really like me and I really like them, so somehow I now do have children in my life. I’m really enjoying being a kind of mother to them. I’m a good confidante and I give good advice and I certainly don’t tread on their mother’s toes. We had a holiday together – him, me, his two children – and we had the most amazing time. I wouldn’t have had that if Richard and I had stayed together. So I’ve also learned that love comes in different shapes and sizes. Whilst I was OK with the fact I couldn’t have children, Richard wasn’t. He thought he was, but he wasn’t. I accept that now. *Names have been changed