I tried for years to become a mother. Suddenly I have three teenagers who already have one.

By Lauren P.

My first husband and I tried for years to get pregnant, but it wasn't to be for us. We did the IVF thing, but it was so expensive and we could only afford a couple of rounds.

And we considered adoption, but as much as I was willing, my husband’s heart just wasn’t in it.

So, we decided that we would be fine just the two of us.

But we weren’t. In fact we ended up being very far from fine. Although neither of us easily admit it, it was almost certainly what ended our marriage. A lot of disappointment, a fair bit of judgement and a huge amount of blame is enough to finish even the best relationship.

So, I found myself single. No husband, no kids, no animals even. Just me.

At first I was miserable - no surprise there. Even though my marriage ended terribly, and I was unhappy for some time, being on your own is still hard. We married young, so we had been together a long time and, I have to admit, I was pretty dependent on him.

Then, slowly but surely, I not only came to terms with being single, I started to really enjoy it. I renewed friendships I had let lapse over the years. I got a new job and started studying psychology part time, which had always been a dream of mine.

I picked up tennis again, which I loved when I was a kid, but my ex-husband was not very sporty. And, with the wisdom of hindsight, I can now see was pretty possessive, so he didn't like me doing things without him.

Which you might think is kind of ironic when I tell you the next bit. The local tennis club was where I met my new partner.

Andy* is everything that Bill* wasn’t. He’s funny, and outgoing, with a real zest for life. And he has a wicked forehand passing shot.

It started with a coffee after a game of doubles, then dinner, and then … love, I guess.

That was 12 months ago. We’re now living together and we’re getting married at the end of next year.

Andy has three kids from his previous marriage - teenagers, two girls and a boy - so I have gone from a marriage with no kids to a life with three pretty fully formed ones.

The problem is that they spend half their time with us, and half their time with their mother. And she obviously spends a lot of that time getting in their ears about Andy, and, by extension, me.

It feels like we spend the whole week they are with us, getting back on side with them, and by the time things are fine again, they go back to their mother. And then the whole cycle starts again when they get back.

The weirdest and worst part of it is that when they come home, they somehow seem to blame ME for their parents’ break up. Even though I didn’t even meet Andy until years after he and she split up!!

We tried for ages to get the six of us to sit down together and talk it through, but she was too smart for that. She always seemed to find one excuse or another to dodge it.

But then, one day, we finally found a reason that she couldn't get out of. Andy’s eldest was in a big benefit concert at school - one night only - and we would all be there.

Normally, we all seem to manage to do ‘hand over’ without coming into contact with each other, but this time, we found an excuse to walk the kids to their mother’s car after the show.

Now, this is the point where you might be expecting some sort of huge fireworks display, right? Nope, she was nice as pie. She made it so that if we started launching into her about what was going on, WE’D be the bad guys.

But I couldn’t help myself. I said something like “So, how exactly did I break up your marriage when I didn’t meet your ex-husband until three years after you separated? Hmmm? Am I some sort of time traveller?”.

This was followed by the most awkward silence you can imagine. The kids just kind of looked at their feet, said goodbye and got into their mother’s car. And I could swear she winked at me as she drove away.

All I ever wanted was to have children. I just hope there’s still time for me to have some sort of relationship with Andy’s before they aren;t children any more.