I don't have kids, I have pets. And they became another kind of shattered family after my split with Edgar. I thought getting him out of the house was the hard part. But after he was gone, I saw he was right.

I wasn't making enough money to take care of the house and the dogs, cats, birds and fish. I never said anything to him about alimony, but I did ask him for animal support. After all, it was Ed who had brought most of them home.

He said he thought he might be able to kick in something, if he could be sure it would be used for critter care.

I changed the locks the day he was supposed to be out. But he broke in one afternoon and left $30 on the table.

That's been the extent of it, unless you count his telling me to try not to let any of the animals die.

What a sweetheart.

Halfheartedly, I asked around to see if anybody wanted any of my critters. I had hoped to keep them all, but when the filter broke on the fish tank, I got desperate.

The note I left on the pet store bulletin board, "Divorce Forces Adoption," led to my goldfish moving into a beautiful outdoor pond. The same family took in my cockatiels. My finches have become a source of joy at an old folks' home, and another childless woman dotes on my ex-parrots.

Ed's three cats remain, but my roommate is a cat person and has taken them over. I did find a place for one dog, who went to live with my brother in another state. The deal was that she'd be with him temporarily — but indefinitely. They are so happy, I'm concentrating on the indefinite part.

Hard as it was for me to part with my critters, as much as I miss the chirping and squawking, and the bubbles and graceful swimming, I think those who moved out are better off than they were here with me.

So maybe it’s selfish to hold on to my remaining dogs, and I have to admit there are four of them. But enough sacrifice here. 

I just spent a week with the longest-married couple I know, my parents. The last morning I was there, my eyes fell on a pair of photos I've seen a million times, black-and-white shots of each of them when they were in their 20s. Aside from the fact that they were both drop-dead gorgeous, I was struck by their confident smiles.

Clearly there was nothing those two couldn't handle, including 59 years of marriage — and counting.

"I should have left him years ago," my mother said once. "But I didn't think y'all should be without your father."

Now she fears she set a bad example for me. I married a man much like my father, though my dad never drank to excess. And I remember being shocked when I noticed my easygoing brother behaving, with the woman he married (and divorced), much like our father, who never got over being an Army sergeant.

On the other hand, who knows? If they had divorced, maybe I would have been something like one of those confused teen mothers who had a baby in the belief that there would always be someone to love her.

As much as I once looked forward to having kids with Ed, I'm equally grateful now that our family consisted solely of animals. Anyone divorcing with children gets my special prayers.

If the Sondra I am now could advise my mother of 35 years ago, I think I'd tell her that the most important model she could have set for me was to be a happy person.

I married quite late.

I used to say that my mother was married and it didn't look like she was having much fun.

But marry I did, just like Mom, sort of. I realized early on in my separation that I needed to be careful not to divorce my husband just because my mother never divorced hers.

My visit back home reminds me that I should be equally careful not to stay married just because she did.

Let me tell you about how we got our cat. She's a really pretty long haired cat that we obtained from the local animal shelter a few months ago after relentless requests from our older daughter for a family pet.

With everything so up in the air lately with regards to our family situation I was really apprehensive about getting a family pet, but as I said, my daughter was relentless.

It turns out that I'm allergic to cats. I had cats growing up and at some points in my adult years, but something about this cat makes me sneeze and cough as though I was rolling around in oleander bushes (something I really am allergic to).

When it became apparent that I can only spend limited time with this cat before my eyes start watering and my throat starts itching, the chore of brushing the cat's long fur falls on my husband. The kids aren't quite gentle enough yet for this delicate task, and when I do it I feel simply miserable afterwards even when I pop an allergy pill beforehand.

So now let me tell you about how our cat looks nowadays: She walks around with knots all over her fur, occasionally stopping to meow and pick at the lumps of matted fur that have developed on various spots of her body.

"Have you been brushing the cat's fur?" I'll ask my husband.

"I've been too busy," is his reply as he flips through the television channels.

"Will you please brush her out tonight?" I ask.

"Sure," he says, and then goes back to watching TV.

Sometimes he'll brush her, and sometimes he won't. I usually winds up taking the scissors to the tangles in her fur and cutting them out because she's obviously uncomfortable.

That poor cat didn't know what she was getting herself into when she came home with us.

Just how central a role do in-laws play in some women’s decisions to stay or go? For 27-year-old Nancy from Ontario, Canada, it couldn’t be simpler. “I considered leaving both of my husbands because of their mothers, quite frankly,” she said.

Indeed, a nasty in-law can be a catalyst for departure. “My current husband is a dream, but if his mother opens her mouth one more time I swear I will walk out until she is dead, and then return after the funeral like it was all an unpleasant dream,” she says.

“I wish I was joking.”

To give up on Mr. Right because of his mother would be a tragedy. On the other hand, three husbands whose mothers drive her crazy? That’s at least bad luck.

Tracy, a 34-year-old Midwesterner, suspects that a man who can’t keep his mother at bay — and out of the most important moments in their lives — might not be worth the trouble.

Her doubts about her husband started just before the birth of their first child.

“There was no way in God’s green Earth that I was going to allow his mom into the delivery room. He assured me he would tell her.”

But he didn’t, and his mother, who had made the long-distance trip just for the occasion, had other ideas.

“You’re going to have to let go of that modesty,” her mother-in-law harped early in Tracy’s labor.

In the end, Tracy had a nurse announce that all guests must leave the room.

Situation resolved.

“But now his mother reminds me of the abrupt realization I had that my husband wasn’t going to stand up for me,” she says, “even when it was incredibly important.”

The feelings about her mother-in-law persisted, and Tracy and her husband are pursuing marriage counseling to help them work through everything.

Last, Part III – Inlaws and Keeping a Marriage Together

Last Christmas, I hid for a few moments of solitude in my husband’s boyhood bedroom, as my in-laws flitted about below, making dinner, greeting guests. Though I had been contemplating a split from my husband, Rob, for months, I was along for the holiday as a favor to him, a good-faith effort that I was committed to getting through our rough patch.

Frustrated with the decision I had made, and feeling trapped in family festivities I didn’t want to be part of, I sat down on the faded rug in his room, leaned back against a small painted desk, and cried.

Voices wafted up from below and I heard my father-in-law say “Now that’s a family with problems.”

He was talking about my family.

My parents had recently divorced and within a few months my mother had remarried and moved far away. I felt his judgment not only on them but on me, as unbeknownst to him, I was thinking of leaving my husband just as my mother had.

I cried harder.

From worrying about what they think of us, to wishing them out of our lives, to not wanting to say good-bye to them, in-laws can loom large in our thoughts as we contemplate separation or divorce.

It stands to reason, since many of us work so hard to fit into our in-laws’ family (or at least make the relationship work on a practical level), that extricating ourselves is not easy.

In Part II – Inlaws and the Decision to Go

Odds are that when people hear the phrase "single mom" they envision an unwed teen, poor, uneducated, unemployed, and struggling. There is a real stigma attached to being a single mom. A recent poll of “Moms Today” revealed that:

• 86 percent of those interviewed believed that most single mothers are on welfare,

• 90 percent believed that most single mothers are under the age of 25 and

• 77 percent believed that most single mothers didn't graduate from high school.

I used to believe these things too, and then it happened to me. I was married. We decided to have a baby, and when I was eight months pregnant my husband left. Just like that, I was a single mom. I'd never been so terrified in my life. For the first few months I would ask, "How did this happen to me?" I'd try to pinpoint the exact moment that things went bad, thinking if I could just nail that down, everything would make sense. That was the hardest part, the utter shock that I had let this happen to me, that I could be so blind.

After I got over that stage, (I never did find that moment), once the rawness wore off, I started to pick up the pieces. I worked at finding the perfect balance between loving my son, being the best mom ever to him, and taking care of myself and other things I love. Slowly, I've figured out ways to navigate life as a single mother. And I’ve met other wonderful single moms who have redefined what it means to be a single parent. We're educated. We work. We pay our bill. We take care of our kid(s). We date. We have fun. According to the US Census Bureau, this is what single mothers really look like:

• 44 percent are divorced or separated

• 79 percent of single mothers work full time

• 72 percent of single mothers live well above the poverty level

• 69 percent of single mothers do not receive public assistance

• 68 percent of single mothers are over 30 years old

What would you do if your ex called you and revealed all of his personal problems to you? What would you do if the ex in question was an ex like Levi? An ex that not only treated you like crap, but your son as well?

This is the place I suddenly find myself.

In a weird, out-of-the-blue phone call, Levi revealed to me all of his personal problems. And boy, oh boy, does he have a big one. I'm not going to go into all of the details just yet but I will say that he was recently diagnosed with a serious medical issue. Now he wants my sympathy. Now he wants my compassion.

Do you see why I wrote about my father earlier this week?

I'm trying to figure out why I even discussed this with him. Why I didn't just say, "It's not my problem," and hang up on him, as he would surely do to me. I must admit, though, that I was rather pleased with the fact that for once, we were not screaming at each other.

I cannot believe that at this very moment, I am sitting here trying to figure out ways to help him.

And this is how it goes. Every time I feel myself breaking away from him, I find myself being reeled back in.

I think right now, I have to adopt some of Levi's selfishness. I think that I'll be capable of sympathizing with Levi, on some human level; but I don't think it's my job to be his sounding board, or even to help him.

I've never been an "eye for an eye" type of girl, but man, I hope this will open up his eyes.

I know we're supposed to be talking about divorce here, but I want to interject for a moment, and tell you all about my dad. My therapist seems to think that my relationship, or rather, lack of a real relationship with my father, is extremely relevant to the topic at hand.

My father is an alcoholic and a drug addict. He's a lying, manipulative and abusive person. He makes me absolutely nuts.

I can't even tell you how hard it is for me to admit this, it's so embarrassing.

He's probably been this way my whole life, but being that I was so young, I didn't realize it. It all became apparent though, by the time I was 13, and he went to jail for the first time. At least the first time that I know about.

He went to jail, he got out, he made my life hell — taking me with him to cop drugs, driving around drunk with me in the car, saying nasty, belligerent and inappropriate things to me and to my friends — then he went back to jail again. The process would repeat itself over and over and over again. Except sometimes jail would be substituted with a stint in the hospital and a promise that everything was going to change.

It's 15 years later, and he's still doing the same thing.

He's in Virginia now — just got out of jail again. Of course, it was someone else's fault. It always is.

After he was released from jail this time, the state (I think) paid for him to stay at a motel, for a week. He called me while he was there, telling me that he had a job and a plan, etc. etc. etc. The next call I got was from a social worker at a psychiatric hospital, informing me that my father was there and that she'd like to speak to me.

Living apart together... Living together apart.... There are all kinds of ways to make relationships work, whether they're relationships that involve love and affection or relationships built to sustain two people at lower costs than separate houses.

Here's a popular strategy that some couples use in Quebec: The kids get the house. The parents move out.

Of course, not at the same time, because that would leave small Wilbur and precious Joanie to tear up the family home in no time flat.

But what some couples who separate try in order to achieve the least amount of emotional trauma for children is a shared custody arrangement in which the parents are the ones to shift between houses, not the kids.

Here's how it works:

The parents shop for an apartment or second home that they feel they can afford. It has to be a location that both like and feel comfortable living in. They furnish the place and make it viable to live in. Each choose a room to be theirs and set up their personal effects.

Then, one week of two, one of the parents moves out of the main family home into this secondary location. The other parent stays in the family home with the kids. When the week is up, the parent that had moved out moves back into the family home, and the other parent gets a week-long break in the secondary home.

The exchange of household only requires that the parents pack a small bag of personal items. They already have a room set up in either home with clothes in both locations.

The benefits? The kids never have to leave the home they grew to love. They get to stay in one place without suffering an upheaval or leaving behind a house they feel good living in. The kids stay in one familiar location. There's no fear of the unknown, no leaving behind anything and no worries about the future.