But after the baby was born, he pressured me to quit my job—the very career I had worked so hard to build.
When I married Nick, I was confident we were building a future together.
We had been a couple for five years before getting married—five good years full of laughter and teamwork.
Nick was warm, funny, and had a way of brightening every room. He worked in sales—not his dream career, but steady. I, on the other hand, was a successful lawyer at a top firm, handling major cases and earning far more than Nick.
We were both comfortable with that balance.
Nick’s one true passion was having a son.
“I can already see it,” he would say. “Teaching him baseball, fixing cars, giving him what I never had.”
He would talk about it for hours, his eyes lighting up like a child’s. It was his greatest wish.
I wasn’t opposed to having children, but I wasn’t in a rush. My career meant everything to me—I had fought hard to get where I was.
Nick never pressured me. In fact, he made a promise that meant the world.
“When we have our boy,” he said one day, “I’ll stay home with him. You don’t have to give up your career—you’ve worked too hard. I’ll be the full-time dad.”
I remember feeling moved as I looked at him.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he said. “I want to be there every day. You keep doing what you do best. We’ll be a great team.”
I believed him.
Because of that, I finally said yes, and we started trying.
It took two years before I saw those two pink lines. Nick was ecstatic.
“A boy! I just know it!” he exclaimed, lifting me off the floor and spinning me around.
When the doctor confirmed the pregnancy, Nick went all in. He told everyone—his parents, coworkers, gym friends, even the grocery clerk.
“I’m going to be a stay-at-home dad,” he said proudly. “Best job in the world.”
I loved seeing him so happy.
Pregnancy was tough, but knowing Nick was excited made it easier. We decorated the nursery together. He read parenting books and even practiced swaddling a stuffed bear with complete seriousness.
When labor started, Nick was a nervous wreck. I was exhausted, in pain, overwhelmed by every emotion. But holding our son for the first time made it all worthwhile.
Nick wiped tears away. “He’s perfect.”
I thought, This is it. This is what we planned. We’re really doing this.
For a while, life at home felt like the dream.
Then things began to change.
The first week was a whirlwind of sleepless nights and chaos. I was tired but kept telling myself, “Nick’s got this. We’re a team.”
But then the excuses started.
Every night when the baby cried, Nick hesitated. If I didn’t jump in immediately, he’d sigh and say, “I think he needs you more than me.”
It crept into the daytime too.
“Can you change him for a minute? I just sat down.”
“Can you take over? He’s fussy, and I have a headache.”
I was exhausted, juggling work emails and breastfeeding, but I told myself he was just adjusting.
Then one night, everything shifted.
I was on the couch, nursing our son with one arm and typing an email with the other. A partner at the firm had asked a question about a case, and I couldn’t ignore it.
Nick came in, leaned against the doorframe, watched me for a moment, then said casually, “You know, I’ve been thinking… maybe you should quit your job and just stay home with him.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking.
When I looked up, he smiled and said, “Come on. You didn’t really think I was going to stay home, did you? Every mom does it. I thought it would just happen naturally.”
I took a deep breath.
“Nick,” I said calmly, “remember what you promised? You said I wouldn’t have to quit. You said you’d be the one to stay home.”
“Plans change,” he said quietly.
I clenched my jaw. “No. You changed.”
He shrugged, indifferent. “I just thought… maybe you’d feel different after the baby was born.”
“Feel different?” My voice grew louder. “Nick, I worked my way up from nothing. Being a lawyer wasn’t something I just woke up and decided to be. I put in the effort. You knew that. You said that wouldn’t have to change.”
Nick shook his head as if he didn’t get it. “I just think the baby needs you more. I’m not trying to be mean, but I believe moms should put work aside for their kids.”
That word hit me hard.
“Selfish?” I repeated.
He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”
I gripped the edge of the table so tightly my fingers hurt, staring at him. That was the breaking point.
Fine. I’ll quit—but on my terms.
The next morning, Nick was on his phone at the kitchen table when I made coffee and sat down next to him calmly.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll quit my career.”
His head snapped up, eyes bright as a child at Christmas. “Really?”
I smiled. “Yes. But with one condition.”
He leaned in eagerly.
“The day I quit is the day we file for divorce.”
His smile vanished.
“What?”
I took a sip of coffee, steadying myself. “I thought about what you said. I’ll never respect you if I quit. You broke your promise—you made me think we were partners, then backed out. I’ll quit, but you’ll pay child support based on what I should be earning. And I’ll have full custody because I won’t raise our son with someone who breaks his word.”
Nick’s eyes widened. “You’re not serious.”
I tilted my head. “I am. And believe me, the court will love hearing how you forced me out of my career after promising to take care of the kids.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, looking completely stunned as if he didn’t expect me to fight back.
That night, he packed his things and went to his parents’ house. Fine by me.
The next day, Nick’s mom called.
I sighed. “Hi, Susan.”
She said kindly, “Honey, know that we’re on your side.”
I was surprised. “Excuse me?”
She sighed. “Nick told us everything. Let’s just say his dad had some words for him.”
I stood up. “What kind of words?”
I heard Nick’s dad complaining in the background, “He made a promise. He can’t back out because it got hard. What does he know about what she worked for? He said he’d stay home. Everyone.”
I pressed my lips together, feeling a mix of relief and shock.
Susan came back on the line. “He feels bad. And honestly, he should.”
“Yeah,” I said. “He should.”
Nick returned a few days later.
He looked different. Calmer. He sat beside me and rubbed his hands together.
“I was scared,” he said. “When things got hard, I panicked. I thought I could handle it. I pushed you because… I don’t know. I thought it would be easier.”
I crossed my arms. “Easier for who?”
“For me,” he admitted.
Finally, honesty.
Nick looked at me. “I was wrong. I get it now. I’m sorry. I want to fix this.”
After the baby was born, we changed the rules.
I didn’t quit my job. Nick stepped up—he fed the baby at night, cooked for us, and we hired a part-time nanny for my long workdays.
Months later, Nick became the dad he promised he’d be.
Is it perfect? No. But it’s real.
When things get tough, I remind him, “Remember, I was serious about the divorce.”
Nick smiles. “Yeah, I’ll never risk that again.”
Lesson learned: Never break your word—especially to a lawyer.