When my husband, Eric, suggested we have a third child, I knew something had to change. Raising two kids while working and managing everything at home was already exhausting, and Eric hardly helped at all beyond earning his paycheck.
I wasn’t about to take on more responsibility while he lounged around like it was his right. I was at my breaking point, and when I finally spoke up about it, things quickly spiraled out of control.
Eric and I had been married for 12 years, and I had reached the point where I felt like I was doing everything on my own. I was 32, with two kids—Lily, 10, and Brandon, 5—and the weight of it all was crushing me. I worked part-time from home and took care of all the household duties.
Meanwhile, Eric thought his job as the “provider” meant he didn’t have to lift a finger when it came to parenting. Diapers, school runs, bedtime stories, and sick nights? All mine. His idea of unwinding after a long day? Hours of TV or video games, while I took care of everything else.
One afternoon, after weeks of exhaustion, I finally managed to carve out an hour to grab coffee with my best friend. It was supposed to be a small break for me, just one hour. I asked Eric to watch the kids, but his response hit me like a slap in the face.
“I’m tired,” he muttered, eyes glued to the TV screen. “I worked all week. Take them with you.”
I couldn’t believe it. “Eric, I need a break. Just an hour. You can handle it for that long.”
His reply was worse than I expected. “You’re the mom. Moms don’t get breaks. My mom didn’t need one, and neither did my sister.”
That was it. That moment made me realize something deep inside: I couldn’t keep going like this. I was drowning, and Eric didn’t care enough to notice.
A few days later, at dinner, Eric casually dropped a bombshell. “We should have another baby.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Another baby? Are you serious, Eric? I can barely keep up with the two we have. How can you even suggest adding more to my plate?”
Eric was completely unfazed. “We’ve done it before. What’s the big deal?”
I stared at him, frustration bubbling up. “The big deal is that I do all the work. You don’t help. I’m the one running myself ragged.”
Instead of hearing me, Eric just brushed me off. At that moment, his mother, Brianna, and his sister, Amber, who were visiting, overheard us. And instead of standing by me, they sided with Eric.
“Eric works hard to provide for this family,” Brianna said, her voice filled with judgment. “You should be grateful.”
Amber added, “You sound spoiled. Mom raised both of us without complaining.”
I felt my blood pressure rise. “Grateful for what? A husband who thinks fatherhood ends when the baby is born? Raising kids isn’t a one-person job. Just because I’m exhausted doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful—it means I’m being honest about how it really is.”
But Eric and his family didn’t get it. They were stuck in their outdated mindset, and they kept telling me that I was overreacting. Later that night, Eric again insisted we try for a third child, as if nothing had changed.
His persistence only made me realize that nothing was going to change with him. I had reached my limit.
When I stood my ground and refused, he snapped. “Fine, pack your things and leave. I can’t live like this anymore.”
I was stunned, but I remained calm. “You want me gone? Fine. But the kids stay here. Whoever stays in this house is responsible for them.”
Eric’s face went pale. “Wait… what? No way. You can’t do that.”
“Oh, I can,” I said, my voice steady. “You wanted me out? Fine. But the kids are staying. They need stability, and they’re not going anywhere.”
That night, I left with my sister. I was finally standing up for myself, and I wasn’t going to let Eric or anyone else convince me to back down. Eric called me later, but by then, I had already made up my mind. His threats and tantrums only made me more certain that I had made the right decision.
In the end, Eric couldn’t handle the responsibility of being the primary caregiver. I filed for divorce, and I won custody of the kids and kept the house. Eric now pays child support, but the day-to-day parenting—every meal, every school run, every bedtime—is still all on me.
Looking back, I don’t regret what I did. It wasn’t easy, but I’m proud of myself. I showed my kids that self-respect matters. I showed them that sometimes, standing up for yourself is the only way to protect your peace.
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