The Seven Husbands of Taylor Swift

30

TAYLOR SWIFT
I wasn't going to baby trap Joe. That was never the plan. We had agreed on no children long before we got married, and I wasn't about to force him into a life he didn't want. So, I gave him an out. I told him he could leave, that I'd be fine, and before I even finished the sentence, I could see the relief in his eyes. He took the chance immediately.

It wasn't that Joe didn't care. He still wanted to be involved in some way, so we settled on a compromise. He would be the cool uncle who visits on some holidays and shows up for birthdays. He was more than okay with that—almost too okay, if I'm honest. It hurt, but I knew this was the best solution for both of us.

As much as I wanted him to stay, I knew deep down that his happiness mattered more than my own. And he wouldn't be happy with me, not in this situation, not with a baby on the way. So, there I was, once again picking up the pieces of a life I had tried so hard to build, now shattered by the reality of our differences. Divorced for the fifth time.

It wasn't the outcome I wanted, but maybe it was the one I needed. Sometimes, letting go is the only way to move forward, even if it means facing the future alone.

Dealing with the pregnancy while losing Joe brought a different kind of pain, one that consumed me entirely. I was physically exhausted all the time, the kind of fatigue that seeps into your bones and refuses to let go. But the heartbreak was something else, a gnawing ache that settled deep in my chest, leaving me hollow and aching.

I couldn't bear to face anyone. The shame of being divorced a fifth time was too much to handle, especially knowing that it was my fault. I was the one who had pushed him away, the one who had changed the rules. So, I isolated myself, shutting out the world and sinking into my own despair. The whispers of judgment, real or imagined, felt too heavy to confront.

A week after Joe and I broke up, I went to the doctor for another ultrasound. The room felt colder, the lights harsher, and the silence more deafening. Sitting there alone, watching the screen as the ultrasound technician worked, I felt a different kind of emptiness. It wasn't just the absence of Joe; it was the realization that I truly had no one to share this moment with.

The loneliness cut deep, sharper than any pain I had known. I had chosen this path, but it didn't make it any easier to walk. As the doctor went through the motions, explaining what I was seeing on the screen, I found myself nodding along, but my mind was somewhere else—stuck on the life I had lost, the future I had imagined with Joe now crumbled into dust.

The doctor moved the ultrasound wand across my belly, the cool gel making me shiver slightly. I watched the screen in silence, trying to push aside the weight of my thoughts. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the machine and the doctor's measured breathing.

After a few minutes, the doctor looked up from the screen with a gentle smile. "Would you like to know the sex?" she asked, her voice kind and patient.

I hesitated. This was the moment where everything could change, where the abstract idea of a baby could become something real, something tangible. I swallowed hard and nodded, my voice caught in my throat.

"It's a boy," she said, her smile widening as she pointed to the screen. "Congratulations."

For a moment, everything else faded away. The pain, the loneliness, the overwhelming guilt—they all melted into the background as I stared at the tiny image on the screen. A boy. My son.

A warmth spread through me, something I hadn't felt in a long time. Despite everything, despite the heartache and the fear, I didn't expect it, didn't even realize how much I needed it, but in that moment, I could feel a connection forming, something pure and untainted by the chaos of my life.