Happy Wednesday, folks.

Here’s what you may already know from reading my blog every week: Summertime consists of Sunday Fundays at our house. My son has a thing for butts. I volunteer with the Girl Scouts of the Jersey Shore. I work closely with my client – a website copywriter – who I admire. I am very protective of my time. My dog is semi-nocturnal.

And what you may not: I struggle with a personal challenge in my life.

I am divorced.

Yuck.

I don’t even like to write it. Everything about that statement makes me uncomfortable.

I want to give you the short-version of “my side” of what’s going on in my life – because sometimes when I write to you on Wednesday mornings, I am sad. Or pissy. Or disappointed. And it stands in my way of sharing my generally cheery messages of hope.

So maybe talking it through will help.

I was married to a man who I refer to as “good”. There is nothing “wrong” with him.

We did not have issues with faithfulness or finances as many couples do. But I was living with a general feeling of disconnect from him.

We owned our own business and as many entrepreneurs will tell you, small business endeavors tend to eat up much of your energy. And time. And passion.

It got the best of both of us.

And then I got pregnant with my boys, and almost immediately, going into the office every day from 6 until 6 simply wasn’t possible for me. I went into premature labor at 19 weeks. Rushed to the nearest hospital with a Level 3 NICU. Three ambulances in tow – one for me, one for “Baby A”, and one for “Baby B” – because them making an appearance that night was a true possibility. It was Mother’s Day 2005.

I was on put on medical bedrest complete with an at-home catheter until the day I, safely, gave birth 16 weeks later.

The first day he left for work without me – the day following the first emergency trip to the hospital – I cried. Hard. My small business was the only thing that I knew. It was the only way in which he and I had really deeply communicated and connected. And all of a sudden, he was doing it without me. He didn’t need me.

And the connection that we did have faded – because his true love was work.

And, in my eyes, she became his mistress.

I kept thinking that once the boys were born, we would unite around them. And although he loved them just as any “good” father does, it was difficult for him to ignore the call of business ownership. One more email. One more call. One quick stop at the office before the Christmas Eve service.

We went to counselors.

One professional explained that we should stay married, but carry on loving, intimate relationships with other people outside of our relationship.

That was the last time we went there, but it was the first moment that I realized that my gut wasn’t wrong {this clearly crazy person had seen it} – we weren’t connected to one another – and that I didn’t want to “stay married” for the sake of not failing at marriage.

We lived on separate floors of the house. And the distance grew. I don’t even remember him fighting the process [until it was nearly over], but perhaps it was me who had drawn a line in the concrete. It’s hard to remember objectively.

He eventually moved to another home, and it was over.

The marriage – not the business. That continues to grow and thrive – because it is nurtured, cared for, and loved. Because it is important to him.

So, my personal dilemma.

When we were together, the business got the best of both of us. So it worked. However, when my health circumstances changed, it took him. All of his strengths and confidence. His joy. His waking hours.

There wasn’t a lot left over for us at home.

Disconnect.

When we split, more went to work. And the business soared.

The silver-lining is the amazing gift he gives our boys to see – a business that was built on a less-than-$5000, making 7-figures. Employing dozens of people. Paying 100% of their health insurance. A local, brick and mortar, small business.

And at the same time, it cost us a lot.

This is not a rant or a pity-party.

This is my story.

My sons – my family – my why.

I confessed last week – as if it wasn’t already obvious – to my Type A-ness. One of the items on that 16-bullet list was this: You put more energy into your career than your relationships.

I made my career – my business partner – my relationship. We didn’t go out to dinner because it was date night. We went out to dinner because we had just worked 12 hours and I didn’t feel like cooking. We didn’t go away on vacations. We went away to shake hands with business clients – to seal deals.

And when things got hard at home – the years when I couldn’t get pregnant…the pregnancies I lost…the life-threatening nine months during the pregnancy that I did have…and when I didn’t know how to cope being a full-time stay-at-home mom to premature twin sons – it all came crashing down.

Because we had failed to build our home alongside of our company.

My Juicy Glad-I-Caught-That: The enemy of the ‘best’ is often the ‘good’. ~Stephen Covey

Build your home. Build your business. It is possible to do both. I am doing it right now – it just looks a little different than I had planned when I was 20. At 36, as I sit behind my computer in my kitchen, I have dinner in the Crockpot and a new kind of partner. Not so much in business, but in life. We are a blended concoction of life experiences. Career changes, moves, children, past loves, and a couple [just a couple] of grays.

Let’s not talk about the wrinkles {wink}.

See you on the flip-side.

In love,

Noelle
xoxox