I reached a breaking point when my husband Eric insisted on having another child – as if raising our two practically on my own wasn’t challenging enough. I spend my days juggling full-time motherhood, housework and odd jobs, while Eric barely lifts a finger, limiting himself to providing financial support. He never stayed up all night with a sick child, packed lunchboxes or helped with homework, yet he seemed to think that transferring money was enough to call himself a parent. That day, his reckless demand for a third child sparked a confrontation that I had been bottling up for years.
The evening meal turned into an argument that could no longer be ignored. Eric suggested another child as if it were a trivial matter, completely disregarding my exhaustion. I tried to explain that raising two children on my own was already beyond my strength, that being a parent was more than just writing cheques, and that it was his lack of involvement that made it difficult for me to cope. However, he argued that supporting the family was enough, claiming that life wasn’t fair and that I just had to accept it. His words, full of disregard and coldness, finally made me express my opinion with a clarity and strength that I had suppressed for too long.
The situation escalated even further when his mother and sister intervened, siding with Eric and lecturing me about gratitude and mental resilience. They told me I was spoilt, that women had always coped with everything without complaining, and that I needed to be tougher. At that moment, I realised that I was no longer the young, submissive girl Eric had married. I was a grown woman who knew her worth, and I wasn’t going to let them dictate how my life or the care of my children should be. I stood my ground and told them that Eric had to face these issues himself instead of sending them as his messengers.
That night, Eric tried again to pressure me about having a third child, and when I refused, he finally revealed the depth of his selfishness. He flew into a rage and told me to get out, but I stood my ground, making it clear that the children were staying with me. With my sister’s support, I calmly packed my things and left, leaving Eric with his anger. His attempts to control the situation failed, and soon after, I filed for divorce, securing full custody of the children and the support they were entitled to.
Ultimately, standing my ground meant regaining my home, my children and my dignity. I realised that parenting and partnership require more than just financial support; they require presence, care and respect. By setting clear boundaries and not allowing myself to be devalued, I protected my family and myself. Although it was painful, this experience confirmed that love and responsibility are not measured by biology or money, but by the dedication and effort we put into our relationships with the people who depend on us.
