When my husband, Nick, begged for a son, he made a promise. A big one. He swore up and down that he would be the one to stay home and raise our child so I could continue my hard-earned career as an attorney.
“I want this,” he told me one night, his eyes full of certainty. “I want to be there, day in and day out. And you? You keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll be the perfect team.”
I believed him.
We had been together for five years before we got married. Five good years. We laughed a lot, rarely fought, and always felt like we were on the same side. Nick was charming, funny, and the kind of guy who could walk into a room and make everyone feel at ease.
He worked in marketing—not his dream job, but stable. I, on the other hand, was an attorney. A really good one. I had fought my way up in a top law firm, handling high-profile cases and making more money than Nick ever did. And we were fine with that.
Well, at least, I thought we were.
The one thing Nick was always passionate about was having a son.
“I can already picture it,” he’d say. “Teaching him baseball, fixing up a car together, giving him all the things I never had.”
For years, he talked about it with so much excitement, so much longing, that I finally agreed. We started trying. It didn’t happen right away. Two years passed before I finally saw those two pink lines on the pregnancy test. Nick was ecstatic.
“A boy! I just know it!” he shouted, lifting me off the ground and spinning me around.
When the doctor confirmed it, Nick told everyone—his parents, coworkers, gym buddies, even the cashier at the grocery store.
“I’m gonna be a stay-at-home dad,” he said proudly. “Best job in the world.”
I loved seeing him that happy.
Pregnancy was rough, but knowing Nick was so excited made it easier. We decorated the nursery together. He read books about baby care. He even practiced swaddling a stuffed bear one night, completely serious about getting it right.
Then our son was born. And everything changed.
Nick wiped his eyes as he held him for the first time. “He’s perfect.”
I thought, This is it. This is what we planned for.
For a while, it felt like the dream was real. But then the excuses started.
“I think he needs you more than me.”
“Can you change him real quick? I just sat down.”
“Can you take over? He’s fussy, and I have a headache.”
At first, I told myself he was adjusting. But soon, I realized he wasn’t even trying. He was leaving everything to me.
Then one night, as I sat on the couch nursing our son with one arm and typing an email with the other, Nick walked in and leaned against the doorframe.
He watched me for a moment before saying, “Honestly, I’ve been thinking… maybe you should quit work. Just stay home with him full-time.”
I let out a short laugh, thinking he was joking. But when I looked up, he was smirking.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “You didn’t really think I was serious about staying home, right? All moms stay home. I figured it would kick in—you know, your natural instinct or whatever.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
“Nick,” I said slowly. “Do you remember what you promised me? You said I wouldn’t have to give up my career. You said you’d be the stay-at-home parent.”
“Plans change.”
“No,” I snapped. “You changed.”
He shrugged. “I just thought… I don’t know. I figured once the baby was here, you’d feel different.”
“Feel different? Nick, I built my career from the ground up. I didn’t just wake up one day and become an attorney. I worked my ass off. And you knew that. You promised me that wouldn’t have to change.”
Nick shook his head like I wasn’t getting it. “Look, I just think the baby needs you more. It’s not like I’m doing this to be mean. I just think it’s selfish for a mother to put work before her kid.”
That word hit me like a slap.
“Selfish?” I repeated.
“Come on,” he said. “You know what I mean.”
That was it. The moment everything in me snapped.
Fine. I would quit. But on my terms.
The next morning, I sat across from Nick at the kitchen table, my coffee steaming in front of me.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll quit my career.”
Nick’s head snapped up. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Really?” he asked, barely able to contain his excitement.
I smiled. “Yep. But there’s one condition.”
He leaned in eagerly, waiting.
“The day I quit is the same day we file for divorce.”
His smile vanished.
“What?”
I took a slow sip of my coffee. “If I quit, I’ll never respect you again. You broke your word, Nick. You let me believe we were partners, and the second things got real, you backed out. So, I’ll leave my job, but you’ll pay child support based on the salary I should have been making. And I’ll take full custody, because I refuse to raise my son with a man who doesn’t keep his promises.”
Nick blinked, stunned. “You’re not serious.”
I tilted my head. “Oh, I am. And trust me, the court will love hearing how you pressured me to quit after swearing you’d handle childcare.”
That night, he packed a bag and went to his parents’ house. Fine by me.
The next afternoon, my phone rang. Nick’s mom.
“Honey,” she said gently, “please know that we’re on your side.”
That caught me off guard. “Excuse me?”
She sighed. “Nick told us everything. And let’s just say his father had some words for him.”
In the background, I heard his dad’s deep voice grumble, “He made a promise. He doesn’t get to just back out because it’s hard. That woman worked her ass off to build her career, and he thinks he can just take that away from her? He told everyone he’d stay home. Everyone.“
A few days later, Nick came home. He looked different. Quieter.
“I was scared,” he admitted. “I thought I could do it, and when it got hard, I panicked. I tried to push it onto you because… I don’t know. I just thought it would be easier.”
“Easier for who?” I asked, arms crossed.
“For me.”
Finally. Some honesty.
Nick looked up at me. “I was wrong. I see that now. And I’m sorry. I want to make this right.”
Months passed, and Nick stepped up. He became the father he always claimed he wanted to be.
Is it perfect? No. But it’s real.
And every once in a while, when things get tough, I remind him, “I was serious about the divorce, you know.”
Nick grins. “Yeah, and I’m never risking that again.”
Lesson learned: Never break your promises—especially to a lawyer.
