When my husband, Eric, suggested having a third child, I reached my breaking point. For years, I had been juggling everything—raising our two kids, cooking, cleaning, and working part-time—while Eric believed his only job was to “provide.” He never helped with the kids, never changed a diaper, and rarely interacted with them.
One evening, Eric casually mentioned another baby, and I snapped. I reminded him that I was already doing everything alone, and that providing financially wasn’t the same as being a parent. His response? “That’s enough.”
The next day, Eric’s mother and sister arrived, trying to mediate, but their old-fashioned views only made things worse. I was expected to be grateful for a man who didn’t pull his weight, while they scolded me for not being “the sweet girl” Eric married. That’s when I realized I wasn’t the same person anymore—I was a woman who knew her worth.
Later, when Eric demanded I leave, I packed my things but insisted the kids stay with him. I walked out and filed for divorce, knowing I deserved more. I kept the house, got full custody, and substantial child support.
Looking back, I have no regrets. Standing up for myself was the right thing to do. Do you think I made the right choice? Or did I go too far?
