When my husband, Eric, said he wanted a third child, I knew something had to change. Taking care of two kids, working, and managing the house was already exhausting, and he hardly helped with anything besides earning money. I wasn’t going to take on more while he sat around doing nothing.

When I told him how I felt, things got worse quickly.

We had been married for 12 years, and at 32, I was already overwhelmed raising our two kids, Lily (10) and Brandon (5), mostly by myself.

I worked part-time from home and handled everything at home, but Eric thought that just because he made money, he didn’t have to do anything else.

Changing diapers, taking the kids to school, bedtime stories, and staying up with them when they were sick—all my responsibility. Meanwhile, he spent his free time watching TV or playing video games.

One day, after being completely exhausted, I finally took an hour to have coffee with my best friend. I asked Eric to watch the kids, and his response made me furious.

“I’m tired. I’ve been working all week. Just take them with you,” Eric mumbled, his eyes still on the screen.

I pushed back. “Eric, I just need an hour to myself.”

His response shocked me. “You’re the mom. Moms don’t get breaks. My mom never needed one, and neither did my sister.”

At that moment, I realized I had reached my limit.

A few days later, during dinner, Eric casually dropped a bombshell. “We should have another baby.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Another one? Eric, I’m already overwhelmed with two, and you want to add more?”

He brushed it off like it was nothing. “We’ve done it before. What’s the big deal?”

I laid it out clearly. “The big deal is that I do everything. You don’t help. I’m exhausted.”

As expected, Eric didn’t take me seriously. His mom, Brianna, and his sister, Amber, who were visiting, overheard our conversation. Instead of supporting me, they immediately took his side.

“Eric works hard to provide for this family,” Brianna said with a judgmental tone. “You should be grateful.”

Amber jumped in, “You’re being spoiled. Mom raised both of us without complaining.”

Their old-fashioned way of thinking made me furious. “Grateful for what? A husband who thinks being a dad ends after making a baby? Raising kids isn’t a one-person job, and saying that doesn’t make me ungrateful—it makes me honest.”

But Eric and his family refused to listen. They acted like my exhaustion was just me being dramatic. Later that evening, Eric brought up having a third child again. His attitude only confirmed what I already knew—he wasn’t going to change.

When I refused, he lost it. “Pack your things and leave. I can’t live like this.”

I was shocked but stayed calm. If he wanted me gone, I’d go—but I made one thing clear. “The kids stay here. Whoever stays in this house takes care of them.”

Eric’s face went pale. “Wait… what? No way.”

“You heard me,” I said firmly. “You want me out? Fine. But the kids need stability, and they’re not going anywhere.”

That night, I left with my sister, standing up for myself and my children. Eric called later, but I had already made my decision. His anger and threats only made me more certain—I was done.

In the end, Eric couldn’t handle taking care of the kids on his own. I filed for divorce, got full custody, and kept the house. Now, Eric pays child support, but I’m still the only one raising them.

Looking back, I don’t regret standing up for myself. It was tough, but I’m proud to show my kids that self-respect is important.

What do you think? Did I do the right thing, or should I have handled it differently?