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When my ex-husband of 13 years and I decided to part ways, we worked together to create as much stability as possible for our three children. Ultimately, he remained in the family home — a house in his name that he alone financed — while I moved into a modest apartment just a 10-minute walk away. The decision wasn't easy, but we believed maintaining a consistent home base for the kids and striving to remain amicable could make the transition smoother for everyone.
My new space is an 800-square-foot apartment in a building constructed in the early 1800s, a stark contrast to the modern 2,600-square-foot home we shared with its pool and spacious yard. It's too small for the kids to live with me part-time under our joint custody agreement, but we make it work through individual sleepovers and creative scheduling. I continue as their primary caregiver during school breaks and after school, while their dad finally has the extended, quality time with them he's always desired.
This decision has led to its share of interesting, difficult, and surprising changes — and plenty of raised eyebrows. I often find myself fielding questions, mostly from other mothers, about why I was the one to leave.
"Isn't it usually the dad who moves out?" they ask. And in many cases, yes, that's true. Social narratives still expect mothers, particularly primary caregivers like me, to stay in the family home. But for us, the arrangement we've chosen made the most sense.
Having my own space for the first time in over a decade of caregiving has been nothing short of transformative. My youngest child is 3, and for 13 years, I've been the primary caregiver, working very part-time from home to accommodate the demands of raising three kids. This role has been all-consuming, leaving little space — physically, emotionally, or mentally — for myself.
Now, this apartment has become more than just a place to live — it's a sanctuary for rediscovery. It's where I can finally work in my own office, free from the clutter of chaotic family life. It's where I host friends for kid-free hours of connection, and surround myself with flourishes entirely of my own design — the art, color, and idiosyncratic touches that reflect my personality.
Of course, I miss the old daily rhythms of life with my kids. But this has given their dad the opportunity to build the kind of relationship with them he's always wanted — deepening their bond in ways they've needed — while also giving me the time and space to reflect and reset. It's helped me reimagine what a more balanced life might look like for all of us.
The time I spend with them now feels more meaningful. I'm more able to be fully present and patient, and I've been rediscovering connections I hadn't realized slipped away in the relentless grind of daily parenting. It feels like coming up for air after being submerged in the undercurrent that often engulfs mothers caring for young children full-time.
The affordability of my new apartment allows me to save for a larger home where my children can have their own bedrooms in the future. For now, this small space feels like a gift, offering me the clarity to envision the life I want to build moving forward. I don't yet know exactly what that life will look like, but even through the haze of emotional upheaval and challenging transitions, I feel a spark of excitement at the prospect of discovering it. And when the time comes to move into that long-anticipated bigger space, I'll carry with me the understanding that this chapter was a vital stepping stone to getting there.
This journey hasn't been without its challenges, of course. Arrangements like ours demand a deep commitment to prioritizing the children and an emotional and mental maturity I wasn't sure we were capable of. There have been moments of overwhelming anger, fear, and worry — times when resentment, miscommunication, and conflict felt unavoidable. But as time passes and we witness how much happier our children are — something I attribute, in part, to having a happier mother — the more confident I am that this was the right decision.
The questions I receive about our decision reflect deeply ingrained cultural assumptions about parenting. Many still believe mothers are more likely to receive primary custody and stay in the family home, a legacy of outdated gender roles. Today, courts prioritize the child's best interests, often favoring shared custody. But the old narrative lingers, making it surprising to many that a mother might willingly leave the family home.
For me, moving out wasn't about stepping back as a mother; it was about reimagining a dynamic that works for everyone. While it's been an adjustment, this change has been liberating in ways I never expected. It's a reminder that unconventional choices often lead to profound growth.
