His response was maddeningly dismissive. “We’ve done it before. What’s the big deal?”
I laid it out plainly. “The big deal is I do all the work. You don’t help. I’m the one running myself ragged.”
As expected, Eric didn’t take me seriously. His mother, Brianna, and sister, Amber, who were visiting, overheard and jumped to his defense.
“Eric works hard to provide for this family,” Brianna said, her tone judgmental. “You should be grateful.”
Amber added, “You sound spoiled. Mom raised both of us without complaining.”
Their outdated mindset infuriated me. “Grateful for what? A husband who thinks fatherhood stops at conception? Raising kids isn’t a one-person job, and pretending otherwise doesn’t make me ungrateful. It makes me honest.”
But Eric and his family refused to listen. Later that evening, Eric insisted we try for a third child. His refusal to understand only solidified what I knew—he wasn’t going to change.
When I stood my ground, he snapped. “Pack your things and leave. I can’t live like this.”
I was stunned but composed. “The kids stay here. Whoever stays in this house is responsible for them.”
Eric’s face went pale. “Wait… what? No way.”
“You heard me,” I said calmly. “You wanted me out, fine. But the kids need stability, and they’re not moving.”
I left with my sister that night, taking a stand for myself and my kids. Eric called later, but my decision was final. His threats only strengthened my resolve.
In the end, Eric couldn’t handle the responsibility of being the primary caregiver. I filed for divorce, retained custody of the kids, and kept the house. Eric now contributes through child support, though parenting remains solely my responsibility.
Looking back, I don’t regret standing up for myself. It wasn’t easy, but I’m proud to show my kids that self-respect matters. What do you think? Was I justified in my decisions, or could I have handled things differently?