I was recently watching a video of Rick and me – just before the birth of our first child Dylan. My friend Margo is filming and our dog Martini is going nuts mostly because she was nuts. We were on the edge of the craziest journey of a lifetime – parenthood. I watched that video several times looking for a moment. A clue. A something.
And I did the same when thinking about our wedding day. That exact moment I walked down the aisle at the Yale Club to Canon In D major. Was there a moment of regret? Of hesitation? Of anything?
I’ve never been more certain. Rick and I met in 1996. It was the early days of Fox News Channel. Damn, who was that hot boy in the newsroom? We went on one date. It was incredibly perfect the way some first dates can be.
But life pulled us in different directions and we ran into each other four years later. It was on the steps of the Stamford, Connecticut courthouse stairs. We were both covering the same murder trial.
Rick asked me on a second date. I agreed. Within 2 months, I had moved in with him. I knew this guy was it. It only took 2 months. Well, four years and two months.
Life is crazy. The way it seems to take forever and rush by at the same time. How did we get here, joined by five kids yet so torn apart? So how does a marriage fall apart?
I can only describe it as a million moments that somehow don’t go the right way. And you don’t really see it happening until it’s somehow beyond repair. Rick and I have been together for 19 years. I refuse to see that as a failure.
Rick introduced me to the beautiful religion of Judaism which will forever be a part of me and my children’s lives. He forever tied me to his gregarious, loving, boisterous family. He made this Connecticut girl truly appreciate the Jersey shore.
He will forever be an intricate part to some of the most wonderful days of my life… living in the west village where we walked city streets, ate at amazing restaurants, wore trendy leather pants and were pretty much the coolest we will ever be (other than that phase of the leather pants).
He taught my impatient self to take the time to really get to know people – from the doorman to the guy that works at the deli.
And he gave me the greatest gift of my life… five enormously well behaved, always polite and incredibly neat children. Or something like that.
If you had told me Rick and I would be one of those couples who wouldn’t make it, I would never have believed you. We wouldn’t end up like Brenda and Eddie. We were invincible.
But it turns out, we weren’t. And we can’t find our way back. It’s painful. And it isn’t easy. Not for me. Not for our kids. Not for our families.
But all of this does not negate what we built and what we have. It doesn’t take away that moment when Rick proposed on the roof of our building, in front of sweeping views of Central Park. It doesn’t take away the moment I said yes. Because even though I had trepidations about this lofty marriage thing, I didn’t have trepidations about Rick. I said yes in an instant and we forged onto the future.
I ask that you support us in this incredibly difficult process of “conscious uncoupling.” Especially if we promise to not use that phrase. Rick and I are forever tied and our lives will continue together in many ways.
I don’t know what a “successful marriage” means. I do know that I did the very best I could and I know Rick would say the same. Maybe some couples are meant forever and some couples aren’t. I really don’t know. I do know that what we had was love. And it was real. And for that I am truly grateful.