My first husband has had his ups and downs in polygamy to say the least. Nowadays, he’s mostly accepting of life as it is. I know he has come to enjoy having time to himself, I know he loves Tamsin, my daughter with my second husband, and I know that he has even come to appreciate having Graham in our lives.
He is however still struggling with jealousy, a feeling of being left out, and most of all he hates the fact that the children haven’t been able to forgive his initial, giant betrayal.
The other day, I found him sitting in the conservatory looking through old photo albums. We started talking about all the fun we had with the children when they were small, about wonderful holidays in Scotland, about our first dogs… We really had a very nice talk, it felt wonderful to share those memories, that love. Then suddenly, tears came to his eyes. I asked if he missed the children, our son who refuses to talk to him. He nodded.
“But most of all I just mourn the life I lost” – he said.
It sort of says it all, doesn’t it?
To me, the men in polygyny who are completely happy, are the men who have no ability to mourn what they lost.