When my husband, Eric, first brought up the idea of having a third child, it caught me completely off guard. As the primary caregiver for our two kids—Lily, 10, and Brandon, 5—I was already stretched thin. I work part-time from home while managing nearly every aspect of our household: school drop-offs, meals, bedtime routines, cleaning. I adore our children, but I was worn out from doing it all on my own.
Eric, meanwhile, seemed content to relax after work, often absorbed in sports or video games. Anytime I asked for help or just a break to see a friend, I was met with resistance. “Moms don’t get breaks,” he once said, echoing a traditional mindset he’d grown up around. I tried to explain how overwhelmed I felt, but my words rarely seemed to land.
One evening, as I prepared dinner, Eric casually suggested we have another baby. His tone was so nonchalant, it was as if adding to our family was a simple decision—without consideration for the day-to-day work it would entail. I couldn’t hide my frustration. “Eric, I’m already juggling so much. I’m not sure I could handle more—not without more help,” I told him.
His response: “I provide. Isn’t that enough?” Those words hit hard. I realized then that we had two very different views of what it meant to be a partner and a parent.Over the next few weeks, our discussions became more strained. Every time he mentioned a third child, it felt like a deeper disconnect. I wasn’t opposed to growing our family in theory, but I needed a true teammate—not just financial support.Tensions peaked one night when I said firmly, “I can’t keep doing this alone.” Eric didn’t respond with empathy or solutions—he walked out of the room. The emotional distance was becoming too much to ignore.
A few days later, his mother and sister stopped by unexpectedly. Their visit wasn’t comforting. While I believe they meant well, their message was clear: I should be more accommodating, more accepting. It was a hard moment, but it also brought clarity. I knew I had to advocate for myself and for a more balanced future for our children.Eventually, our differences became irreconcilable. When Eric insisted once again on expanding our family without addressing the imbalance in our home, I made a decision. I chose not to continue down a path that left me feeling unheard and unsupported.
Following a mutual decision to part ways, I retained custody of our children and remained in our home. It hasn’t been easy, but it’s been empowering. I’ve focused on creating a stable, nurturing environment for our kids—and for myself.
At night, when the house is quiet and I settle into my favorite chair with a crochet project in hand, I feel at peace. Each stitch in the blanket I’m making reminds me that growth can come from difficult moments, and that strength often shows up in quiet, steady ways.
I didn’t choose this path lightly, but I know now it was the right one—for me, and for our children.