I married my first husband for the same reason that I think most people do. I was in my mid-20s and ready fo start my life. He was kind, ambitious, and funny. We were good partners. But we weren't in love. At least I wasn't. I'm a sceptic, and I was raised by parents who should never have been married but belonged to a generation and culture that didn't consider divorce an option. I didn't really believe in "head over heels" love until I met my second and current husband. I should say when I re-met my second husband. I first met him in the first grade and we attended the same schools until we graduated. We each got married and raised families, reconnected at a reunion, and found eachother on Facebook as our repective marriages were dying. We've been together for 12 years and, up until a year ago, our lives were perfect. A year ago, our carefully blended family fell apart. We never saw it coming. We have four children in total, my daughter (24) and son (21), and his daughter (32) and son (30). We thought through every aspect of blending our families. Every decision was carefully considered. We achieved blended family bliss. Our more recently divorced friends told us that our situation gave them hope. Of course there were bumps in the road. Wouldn't that always be the case? But, on balance, we were a family. And we were a happy and loving family. And then my SD got married. To a man we were more than happy to welcome into our family. As we travelled to the wedding, in the limo bus my husband's ex-wife and I arranged together, and the ex-wife insisted that I join the picture of my SD with her bio-mom and new MIL, we thought, this is it. This is the fruit of our labour. This is what all of the planning and mindfulness was about. A little over 6 months later, everything fell apart.