Thirty-nine years ago this month I married my first wife.  Six years and two children later that union ended in divorce.  There is no animosity between us and we occasionally interact at family gatherings.  Still, I was somewhat taken aback when I received a letter from the Catholic Diocese in Charleston in yesterday’s mail.  That correspondence informs that the ex “has petitioned to this Tribunal declaring that her marriage to you should not be recognized by the Catholic Church…”  In other words, she wants an annulment.

The letter includes a two-page questionnaire that I have been requested to complete.  The questions are all pretty straightforward, basically seeking confirmation that I am not a Catholic and that we were not married in the Catholic church.  The last question asks me to explain in my own words why the marriage failed.  I’m tempted to channel Hillary Clinton and respond “at this point, what difference does it make?” but what’s the fun in that?

My ex was 17 when I knocked her up.  I was 19.  I’m not sure now why we didn’t go the abortion route.  It was either her Catholicism or maybe she was too far along in the pregnancy when she realized she was with child.  Anyway, we mutually decided to have the baby and give it up for adoption.  So we moved in together and made the best of those few months, despite being dirt poor.  The county adoption bureau paid for the medical care and the government provided food stamps, and we otherwise got by on my meager minimum wage salary.

On September 7, 1975 my daughter was born.  On the day the adoption was to take place I was working thirty miles away in Pasadena, CA.  And that morning something happened inside of me that I cannot explain, but I somehow knew letting go of my little girl was the wrong thing to do.  So, I left work and barreled down the freeway arriving in the hospital room at the exact moment the adoption person was handing the ex the papers to sign giving away our child.  I shouted “stop, wait, I want to talk to her about this”.  And so I proposed that we get married and keep the baby.  She agreed.

It was not a popular decision with her parents (the father threatened to have me arrested for statutory rape).  We certainly were not prepared to raise a child (Renee’s first night at home she slept in a dresser drawer as we had no crib).  But it was absolutely the right decision.  I cannot fathom what my life would have been like if I had abandoned my sweet baby girl.

Two years later my son was born and shortly thereafter we moved to Prescott, AZ to raise our family in a more child friendly environment.  I was working as a letter carrier for the Postal Service and the ex was a waitress at a one of Prescott’s finest dining establishments.  We bought a small house.  We had our struggles, but I recall those years as mostly happy.

So, what happened?  I’m sure the ex might have a different perspective, but in looking back I see it as it all just being too much for a young mother to bear.  The ex started running with the restaurant crowd and coming home after work at 3 or 4 in the morning.  And I think at some point she decided that life in the fast lane was more fun than being stuck at home with the kids.  And to be fair, I was feeling neglected and wound up having an affair. So we divorced and she gave me custody of the kids.  I subsequently took a job in Arkansas and my mother helped me raise the children.  And that’s pretty much where our story ended.

So, if the Catholic church wants to pretend the marriage never happened, I’m okay with that.  History is what it is, and I have two fantastic kids (and three wonderful grandchildren) to show from our non-sanctioned union.  That is something that can never be annulled.