It all began in the simplest way, as these things often do. A chat at the school's Mother's Day stall while folding tea towels and wrapping hand-drawn cards in recycled paper.
I was there because, with my husband Jacob* working FIFO and me at home with three kids under eight, I craved adult conversation.
My son's Year Five teacher, Miss Emerson — Bianca* to me — was also there. "She's so wonderful with the kids," the other parents would say. But for me, it wasn't just her talent with the students. It was when she noticed me.
Watch: Sarah Marie talks about the dilemma of having sex after kids. Post continues after video.
I hadn't felt seen in years. Jacob was a good man but always away or exhausted from work. The kids, naturally, were focused on their own little worlds. But Bianca… she asked real questions. How was I coping? Did I miss working? What did I do for myself? The answers didn't come easily, but just being asked felt like someone had opened a window in a stuffy room.
At first, it was just casual chats at school. Then it turned into coffee after P&C meetings. Eventually, it was wine at my house on nights Jacob was away. I told myself it was harmless. Friends are allowed to connect, right? And hadn't I earned a little companionship after years of feeling invisible? Bianca felt like a beam of sunlight.
But sunlight can sting. I started noticing how my stomach fluttered when her name popped up on my phone. How I lingered in her presence, rearranging my day for fleeting moments with her. Guilt crept in like a shadow I couldn't shake. Every time I hugged Jacob goodbye, it felt like I was betraying him in a way I couldn't define. But I kept telling myself it wasn't really wrong. Bianca and I hadn't crossed any lines — not yet.
The first kiss (and more) happened late one night. She came over after a particularly challenging day, upset from a harsh exchange with a parent. The kids were asleep, and we were two glasses of wine deep. I found myself talking — really talking — about how isolated I'd been, how lost I felt. She reached for my hand, and the kiss just happened. It wasn't fireworks or a dramatic moment. It was quiet and soft, like slipping into warm water. A part of me felt alive in a way I hadn't for years.
But afterwards, I couldn't sleep. My mind was a storm of questions. What did this mean? What about Jacob? Could I really let myself feel this way? And then there was the biggest question of all: what did this mean about me? Was I… a lesbian? Bisexual? Something else entirely? I'd never been attracted to a woman before. Did it matter? Was it possible for one person to change everything you thought you knew about yourself? I didn't have the answers, but I knew my life would never feel the same again.
In the days that followed, my emotions swung between justification and guilt. Jacob didn't deserve this. He worked hard for our family and had always been loyal.
One night, lying in bed next to Jacob, I tried to imagine our future. Five years down the road, would I still be waiting for him to come home, folding laundry on my own, yearning for something I couldn't even name? Then I pictured Bianca. Her hand in mine, her laughter filling the quiet spaces. And I knew. I couldn't imagine a future without her.
But the guilt was suffocating. I couldn't bear to tell Jacob the truth, not yet. The weight of it felt like a thousand tiny needles pressing into my chest. And the kids… how would I explain this to them? How could I uproot their world for something they wouldn't understand? And then there was my family. I could already feel the questions, the judgment. How do you tell the people who raised you that the life you've built isn't enough, that you're choosing something — someone — they never expected?
Then there was the risk to Bianca's reputation, her career. It wasn't illegal, but it certainly was frowned upon to have an affair with a parent!
For now, I'm caught in the in-between. Still lying to Jacob, still sneaking moments with Bianca, still trying to reconcile the woman I thought I was with the one I'm becoming. I know I can't stay here forever. Something has to give. I have to make a choice — not just for me, but for everyone involved.
And deep down, I already know the choice I'll make. I love Jacob, but I could live without him. Now, I just have to figure out how to untangle the web I've woven and navigate the road ahead — for my kids, for my family, and for myself.
*Names have been changed due to privacy.
The author of this story is known to Mamamia but remained anonymous for privacy purposes.
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