My Husband Demanded a Third Child – After My Response, He Kicked Me Out, but I Turned the Tables on Him

My husband, Eric, suggested we have a third child, and I realized things had to change. I was not willing to take on more duties while he relaxed like royalty. After expressing my thoughts openly, he expelled me from the house — but I managed to turn the situation around on him.

Have you ever reached a point where you cannot tolerate any more? That was my moment when my spouse insisted on another baby, as if I wasn’t already stretched thin raising two children mostly by myself.

What happened next was a confrontation I hadn’t anticipated.

My husband Eric and I have been together for 12 years. I am 32, and he is 43. We have two kids: our daughter Lily, aged ten, and our son Brandon, age five.

I devote myself fully to raising them and maintaining our home.

I work part-time from home to help pay the bills, but I handle all household chores. That includes cooking, cleaning, dropping off and picking up from school, laundry, bedtime routines, and more.

Eric, on the other hand, believes his sole role is to “provide.” That’s where his involvement ends. He has never changed a diaper, stayed up with a sick child, or packed a lunch.

It’s exhausting, but I love my children.

I’ve accepted that I am essentially acting as a single parent while Eric spends his time watching sports or playing video games. Still, I do get annoyed sometimes.

Recently, my best friend invited me for coffee. It was the first chance I had in weeks to go out for something enjoyable.

“Eric, can you watch the kids for an hour?” I asked as I put on my shoes.

His eyes stayed glued to the TV screen. “I’m tired. I worked all week. Why don’t you just take them with you?”

I sighed. “Because I need a break. It’s only an hour. They’ll be fine.”

Eric rolled his eyes and grabbed the remote. “Katie, moms don’t get breaks. My mom never needed one. Neither did my sister.”

My jaw clenched. “So Brianna and Amber never felt overwhelmed? They never needed a moment for themselves?”

“Exactly,” he said smugly. “They managed just fine. You should, too.”

That’s when I lost my patience.

“Eric, your mother and sister probably felt just like I do! They just never said it out loud because they knew no one would listen.”

He waved dismissively. “Whatever. It’s your job, Katie. You wanted kids. Now, handle them.”

I wanted to scream.

“They’re your children too!” I shouted. “When was the last time you helped Lily with homework? Or played with Brandon? Or asked how their day was?”

“I work to keep a roof over your head. That’s enough,” he replied.

“No, it isn’t!” I snapped back. “Providing money isn’t the same as being a parent. You’re their father, Eric. They need you.”

“Whatever. I’m not changing how things are,” he said stubbornly.

I stared at him, speechless. How did I end up married to someone so self-centered?

A few days later, Eric started mentioning having another baby. At first, I thought he was joking. We could barely manage the two children we already have.

But the more he brought it up, the clearer it became he was serious.

The next time he mentioned a third child wasn’t a joke. He was serious.

It happened during dinner one night. I was cutting Brandon's chicken nuggets when Eric, casually scrolling on his phone, said, “You know, I’ve been thinking… maybe we should have another baby.”

“Pardon?” I asked, turning toward him.

He looked up. “A third kid. I think it’s the right time.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Eric, I barely handle the two we already have. And you want to add another?”

He furrowed his brow as if I was unreasonable. “What’s the big deal? We’ve already done it twice. You know how it works.”

“That’s exactly my point,” I told him, trying to keep my tone steady. “I do all the work. I stay up at night. I run around trying to keep everything together. You don’t help.”

His face darkened. “I provide for this family, Katie. That’s enough.”

“No, it’s not,” I said sharply. “Being a parent is more than just earning money.”

Before I could finish, his mother Brianna, who had stopped by earlier to “visit the kids” with her daughter, came into the kitchen.

“Everything okay here?” she asked, glancing between us.

Eric sighed loudly. “Mom, she’s at it again.”

I rolled my eyes. “At what?”

“He says I don’t help with the kids,” Eric explained.

Brianna sat down, lips pursed. “Katie, you need to be careful. Men don’t like to feel they’re criticized by their wives.”

I was furious. “I’m not criticizing him. I’m asking him to help with the children. There’s a difference.”

But she wasn’t listening. “Eric works hard to support this family. You should thank him.”

Thank him. Right. For a man who thinks fatherhood ends at conception.

“And you already have two wonderful children,” Brianna said. “Why wouldn’t you want a third?”

They’re eavesdropping. Nice.

“I’m exhausted,” I said flatly. “I do everything alone. Why would I want to make my life even harder?”

That’s when Amber, Eric's sister, stepped into the kitchen, as if she owned the place. “Honestly, Katie, you sound a little spoiled. Mom raised both of us without complaint.”

“Exactly,” I responded bitterly. “And I’m sure she never felt overwhelmed. She just kept quiet because no one cared.”

Amber’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe you need to toughen up. Women have been doing this forever. That’s just what we do.”

I turned to Eric. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re stuck in this outdated idea where women do everything. It’s unfair.”

“Life isn’t fair, Katie,” Eric shrugged. “Deal with it.”

I looked at him, feeling I’d hit a wall. He wouldn’t change. Neither would his mother or sister.

Later that evening, after Brianna and Amber left, Eric brought up the third child again. This time, he sounded more insistent.

“You’re making a big fuss over nothing,” he said. “We have a good life. I take care of everyone. We should have another.”

I looked at him, reaching my limit. “Eric, you don’t care for me or the kids. You hardly know them.”

He just looked at me, expression blank.

“You’re not the amazing father you think you are,” I told him. “And I don’t want to be a single mother of three. Two is hard enough.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. Instead, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I heard his car start. He drove off, likely to his mother’s house.

The next morning, I got up early and had my coffee quietly. The kids were at my sister’s house. I had called her the night before, needing someone to lean on.

I didn’t expect Eric to return soon, but I was not surprised when Brianna and Amber appeared instead.

They didn’t even knock.

“Katie,” Brianna said as she entered the kitchen. Amber followed, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “We need to talk.”

I leaned against the counter, keeping my expression calm. “There’s nothing to discuss. Eric and I need to fix things ourselves.”

Amber scoffed. “That’s exactly why we’re here to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” I said clearly.

But Brianna wasn’t giving up. “Katie, you’ve changed. You’re not the sweet girl my son married anymore.”

That comment struck me harder than I expected.

For years, I tried to live up to some version of myself they believed I was. I wasn’t that girl now. I was a woman with real responsibilities they couldn’t understand.

“You’re right,” I said, eyes locked on her. “I’m not that girl anymore. Eric married a teenager. Now I am a woman who knows her worth.”

Brianna’s face reddened. “What?”

I crossed my arms. “You heard me. And honestly, if Eric doesn’t like how I run my life, he should be talking to me, not sending you two here.”

Amber’s voice was sharp. “That’s not how family works. We support each other.”

“Really? Funny how it seems like support only goes one way.”

At that moment, my sister entered the room. She looked at everything and immediately understood the tension. “Is everything okay?”

Brianna spun around. “Who are you?”

“She’s my sister,” I said. “And you two need to calm down. Otherwise, I will call the authorities.”

Brianna’s face twisted with anger, and I prepared for her insults. Sure enough, she launched into a rant about how I was “ruining” her son’s life, how I was a bad wife, and how my children would grow to hate me.

I didn’t react.

They finally left a few minutes later, slamming the door behind them.

That evening, Eric returned home. I heard his footsteps before I saw him, feeling the tense atmosphere as he entered the kitchen.

“So,” he said coldly, “you insulted my mother and sister?”

I folded my arms. “I didn’t insult anyone. I told them they shouldn’t interfere in our marriage.”

His face darkened. “You don’t love me. You don’t love the kids. You’ve changed.”

“I haven’t changed, Eric. I’ve grown up. There’s a difference.”

Our argument went around in circles until he finally exploded.

“Pack your things and leave,” he demanded, pointing to the door. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

I was stunned but didn’t argue. I packed my bags, ready to go. But before leaving, I turned to him one last time.

“The kids are staying here,” I said. “Whichever parent stays here is responsible for them. They’re not leaving.”

“Wait… what?” he asked. “That’s not happening.”

“You heard me,” I said peacefully. “You wanted me gone. Fine. But the kids stay.”

Then, I left with my sister, ignoring anything else Eric said.

He tried calling me later, but it was too late.

In the end, Eric refused custody. I filed for divorce.

I kept the house, got full custody, and received significant child support. I’m glad I stood firm before it was too late. Did I do the right thing? Or did I go too far?

If you liked this story, you might enjoy another one where every night, my husband secretly slips away with a mysterious tablet. At first, I thought I was imagining things. Then I found clues and knew I had to follow him.

This story is inspired by real events but has been fictionalized. Names and details are changed for privacy and storytelling. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.