I had offered to help my then-boyfriend unpack boxes in his new home. Knowing I was still sensitive to items from the life he had before me, I volunteered to tackle the living room first, thinking it would be a safe place to start. I carefully sorted children’s movies from adult movies into two separate baskets for storage, feeling cautious but optimistic—until I came across something that stopped me cold.
“Oh gosh… it’s THE VIDEO.”
The DVD from my husband’s first wedding stared back at me. The image on the case showed a much-too-young couple, smiling and joyful in a way that made my chest tighten. I felt instantly sick, and the tears came so fast and strong that I wasn’t sure I could stop them. I rushed to the master bedroom, where Kevin was setting up his bed, and managed to say through a quiver, “Be back… I need to run to the store.”
Once safely inside my car, I let myself cry like never before. I knew he had been married before me—I always knew—but confronting such a direct, tangible reminder of it hit me in a way nothing else had. It wasn’t just sadness; it was a deep, raw mourning. In that moment, I grieved the life I had imagined for myself: the fairy tale romance I’d dreamed of my entire life, the family I longed to raise, the role of “first love” and “first wife” that I had secretly wanted.
Even when I wasn’t confronted with stark reminders, insecurities crept in constantly. Helping him raise his daughter from his first marriage, I couldn’t stop comparing myself to her mother. Am I as beautiful? As capable? As deserving of his love? Would he choose me if he could go back? Why wasn’t I first? These thoughts circled endlessly in my mind, gnawing at my confidence and my sense of self-worth.
Later, when we got engaged, I was madly in love—but doubts still lingered. Could I ever move past these insecurities and truly embrace my place as Kevin’s second wife? Would I ever feel like enough?
It took time, reflection, and a lot of soul searching, but eventually, clarity began to emerge. I realized that Kevin had chosen to marry me knowing all the heartbreaks of his past. If I weren’t worth it, if I weren’t someone he could build a life with, he wouldn’t have risked his heart again. I could see it in his actions, in the way he looks at me, and in the countless times he tells me, “I love you.”
I also came to understand the unique role I play in his life—one that his ex-wife could never fill. I am his second, and forever, wife. I get to be a stepmom to his daughter in a way only I can, creating my own place in this family rather than trying to step into someone else’s. Where I once saw loss, I now saw opportunity: the chance to fill my own role, in my own way—and it is a beautiful, meaningful one.
And finally, I realized the man I married isn’t the same person his first wife married. He was young, inexperienced, and still learning what it meant to be a husband. The Kevin I married is patient, loving, and an extraordinary father. His past shaped him, but it didn’t define him for me—it prepared him to be the partner I had always dreamed of.
Given the choice, I would choose him again, every single time, even knowing he came with a history, an ex-wife, and a daughter. Those experiences shaped him into the partner I am grateful for today. Instead of resenting the past, I am thankful for it, because it made him the man I love.
Just last week, while going through our safe to grab passports for an upcoming trip, I found my stepdaughter’s birth certificate with her parents’ names on it. Years ago, seeing something like that would have triggered a flurry of insecurities: Will it be as special when we have a child together? Will he love our baby the same way he loves hers? Will my stepdaughter love our child as much as she loves her sister?
This time, though, I smiled. I felt gratitude instead of fear. I am grateful for the family I am a part of, and I am thankful for the life experiences that shaped my husband into the man I can spend forever with. I look forward to the future we are building—a blended family, full of love, growth, and joy. And for the first time, I feel completely at peace with the past, confident in the present, and excited for what’s to come.
