We divorced when I realised he didn't want to be a father.
I met my husband at a work event, American-born with Iranian parents. It was as though we spoke the same language. He understood my ways, and I learnt the American ways through him. He was privileged and seemed to know everything about anything.
I was born in Iran in the 70s to a progressive family. Before the revolution we were considered worldly, as my mother and father had travelled and studied abroad. My father returned and set up a successful business which was destroyed in the revolution. The revolution changed everything, especially for girls and women. We had the opportunity to leave, but we stayed close to familiar. My parents raised me knowing that I would leave one day, follow in their footsteps and study abroad. I was intelligent and had excellent school teachers who made the core subjects fun and easy to learn. My English wasn't great, but enough to study in the US, where I completed a degree in Maths.
Maths is a universal language after all.
I settled in quite quickly, never homesick as my parent's friends embraced me and welcomed me into their families and celebrations. After my Degree I was employed immediately, it wasn't as common as it is today for a woman to have a degree in Maths. I loved numbers and relished the freedom of American women. It was obvious that I wasn't returning to Iran. I was always 'the good girl,' not wanting to bring shame on my family, but I was also raised to succeed.
My parents never put pressure on me to marry or start a family.
I met my husband at a work event, American-born with Iranian parents. It was as though we spoke the same language. He understood my ways, and I learnt the American ways through him. He was privileged and seemed to know everything about anything.
I was in awe of his knowledge.
Dating was fun, easy, and comfortable. He travelled a lot for work, and I tagged along here and there. A few years into the relationship I was ready to study for my MA. It meant I could achieve more in my career, the only caveat- the course was in the UK. I hesitated, but he assured me we would be fine, there was no reason to miss out on such a great opportunity. We weren't ok. His career took off and he started entertaining clients after work. In the 90s that meant alcohol, drugs, and the comedown. He didn't tell me why he was always in a bad mood and I was naive. We broke up for a while, but when I returned to the US we hooked up again.
I grew up with the idea planted by someone, society, that 30 was the age to marry and not be left on the shelf. I was nearing 30, it was time and he was ready.
We loved each other and our life together was exciting, so why not?
We had a beach wedding, very chilled, bohemian fun. We celebrated with our friends and family and stayed for the honeymoon. Married life was good until we had 'the conversation' about family. For some absurd reason, we had never discussed children. I wanted kids, but he wasn't sure. He liked being free.
We started to argue more and more as my disappointment in myself increased.
Why didn't I ask him before marrying, before staying with him all these years? I knew I was wasting time with a man who didn't want what I needed. I returned to Iran to take time out with my family and friends. I promised myself I would not return until I was at peace with my decision. To stay with him and never have children or to leave and risk having no children or possibly a child with someone else. My biological clock started ticking, interrupting my logical thought process while I beat myself up trying to come to terms with the unknown.
Life is not a simple maths equation.
I returned a month later, asked for a divorce and moved out.
The rest is private, and yes, I became a mother.
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