I didn’t have a divorce party.
At the time, celebrating was probably the furthest thing from my mind. Leaving felt awful before it felt freeing — there was grief, fear, and the overwhelming sense of having no idea what came next.
So when Jen Hamilton recently threw her Jendependence Day party in front of her friends, I felt it. I wish I’d taken the time to celebrate mine.
Jendependence Day
You likely know Jen Hamilton as the obstetric nurse and mom who built a following of more than seven million people by talking candidly about pregnancy, childbirth and the messy middle of motherhood. It made sense, then, that when her marriage started breaking down, she let millions watch her grieve it in real time too.
On August 4 — what would have been her 14th wedding anniversary — she invited friends over. The day before, she’d talked about the complicated feeling of the date: mourning the marriage she hoped it would become, while already sensing the life on the other side. People reported on her plans for the anniversary here.
Then came the party. Friends brought dishes, she’d cleaned the back deck, and instead of marking what ended, she celebrated what comes next. One moment became the image the whole internet kept: she burned the bedsheets she’d shared with her estranged husband, writing that they stood for years of repression and lies. She called it the best anniversary she’d ever had.
I can look back and say, without hesitation, that my first marriage was over. But I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen — it shaped me, and without that chapter, my children wouldn’t exist. Those two things don’t contradict each other. That’s what made Jen’s party feel honest: nobody was erasing the past. A date that used to mean one thing was now being given a new meaning.
What I’d Actually Put on the Invites
If one of my friends were at my table this summer, finally ready to celebrate, I wouldn’t write a revenge invitation. Funny ‘finally free’ invites exist, and more power to them. But I’d center the celebration on her, not on the ex. Something like Here’s to Chapter Two, or Cheers to What’s Next, or — Jen’s move — inventing a completely personal name for the day itself. That’s the tone I’d want to set: something hard happened, she made it through, and we’re all here to celebrate the woman on the other side of it.
The Supplies List I’d Actually Follow
Once the invites are out, I think it’s fair to have fun. I found a Reddit thread of women planning divorce parties for friends, and the ideas were equal parts funny and genuinely sweet. Here’s the list I’d actually buy:
- Balloons and decorations in her favorite color
- A banner celebrating the next chapter
- ‘Single-serving’ appetizers and desserts
- Champagne, a signature cocktail, and a really good mocktail
- A playlist of songs that make her feel strong
- Disposable cameras — or, like Jen, hire a photographer
- Cards where every guest writes something they admire about her
- Photos of the people who helped her through the hard part
- And, obviously, the cake
Give me the ridiculous color combination her ex always hated. The throw pillows she was never allowed to buy. Decorate for the person who’s staying, not the one who left.
The Playlist (and Yes, There Are Non-Negotiables)
Half trust me on this one, half steal from my actual list. I wouldn’t fill the whole evening with angry breakup songs — there’s room for one or two, because sometimes you need to sing dramatically into a wine glass. Mostly it’s freedom and confidence and moving forward:
- ‘Flowers’ — Miley Cyrus
- ‘Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You)’ — Kelly Clarkson
- ‘Since U Been Gone’ — Kelly Clarkson
- ‘Good as Hell’ — Lizzo
- ‘Roar’ — Katy Perry
- ‘Independent Women, Pt. 1’ and ‘Survivor’ — Destiny’s Child
- ‘Shake It Off’ — Taylor Swift
- ‘So What’ and ‘Raise Your Glass’ — P!nk
- ‘I Will Survive’ — Gloria Gaynor
- ‘Believe’ — Cher
- ‘Dog Days Are Over’ — Florence + the Machine
- ‘Unwritten’ — Natasha Bedingfield
- ‘Man! I Feel Like a Woman!’ — Shania Twain
And depending on the circumstances of the breakup: ‘The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived’ — Taylor Swift (a Jen Hamilton favorite — she’s sung about it), ‘Fuck You’ — Lily Allen, and ‘Goodbye, Earl’ — The Chicks, which was one of my own post-divorce anthems.
Then hand the guest of honor the phone.
Let her add the songs that mean something only to her: the one she wasn’t allowed to play because her ex hated it, the one she blasted in the car during those first weeks on her own. The playlist’s job isn’t to soundtrack a marriage ending. It’s to soundtrack the life she’s building next.
Although I’m keeping ‘I Will Survive’ regardless. Some things are mandatory.
What the Cake Should Say
There should be cake. I don’t make the rules.
I’ve seen some fightingly lovely divorce cakes, but I’d keep the message forward-pointing:
- Plot Twist
- Chapter Two
- Onward
- Cheers to What’s Next
- Actually, I’m Going to Be Fine — my personal favorite
Against a tiny fondant dumpster fire on top?
Absolutely not.
Healing can have a sense of humor.
A Divorce Registry Really Makes Sense
Here’s something I wish had existed — or I’d known about — when I got divorced: a registry.
When a marriage ends, you don’t just separate two people. You usually separate an entire household. Who gets the dishes? The towels? The coffee maker? The furniture? Suddenly you’re buying things you haven’t considered since the day you first set up a home.
The Associated Press has covered the rise of divorce or ‘fresh start’ registries. One of them — Fresh Starts Registry — exists specifically to help people rebuild after divorce and other major life changes, and it’s built for exactly this moment.
It’s not about expecting presents because the marriage ended. It’s about the fact that someone you care about is starting again with half a household — sometimes nearly nothing. The AP spoke with women rebuilding everything from kitchenware to sheets, and writer Leanne Itale described how meaningful those practical gifts tend to become — she looks at the plates in her home and knows exactly which friend sent each one.
Look around a rebuilt life and realize other people helped you build it. New sheets, new wine glasses, a lamp, a drill, the ridiculous throw pillows her ex never liked. That might be the best kind of party favor there is.
Sometimes the Best Part Is the Surprise
In that same Reddit discussion, one woman described a party her friends surprised her with. What she remembered wasn’t the food or the decorations — it was how cared for she felt that people chose to mark the day with her. (The ex’s best friend hosted.)
I’m not recommending springing it on every newly separated friend. You have to know the person, and know she’s ready. But the reason that story landed for me is that the party wasn’t about the divorce at all. It was an act of friendship. It said: we saw what you were in. We’re still here.
I had people like that. Divorce also has a way of showing you which relationships are solid and which ones only worked when life was easy. It was painful, at the time, to let some people go — and my life is better for it.
I just wish we’d also had cake.
The Edit: Celebrate the Woman, Not the Exit
The one edit from me: plan a celebration of your friend, not a roast of her ex. Build the playlist of songs she loves. Get a card from everyone in the room about what they admire about her. A photo wall of the people who make up her life now. If she’s setting up a new home, look into a fresh-start registry together. Order the cake. Stand beside her for the good part, not just the hard one.
I’ve been the woman at the start of this process. I was terrified. But I never once doubted that leaving was right — and I’ve also been the woman on the other side, who finally understands that leaving was one of the best things I ever did for myself.
I wish I’d celebrated her.
A note from the editor: Divorce isn’t a celebration by default. The grief is real, especially when there are children involved, and the stress and loneliness rarely get mentioned. But when the moment comes and she’s ready, send the invites, buy the supplies, and celebrate her. Sometimes reaching the other side deserves a party. Less shelf, more glow. — Amelie