My Husband Promised to Take Care of the Baby If I Had One—But After I Gave Birth, He Told Me to Quit My Job

“Teaching him to throw a curveball in the backyard. Rebuilding an old Chevy together on weekends. That’s what life’s supposed to be about.”

I wanted kids too, eventually.

But I also wanted to keep the life I’d worked so hard to build. My schedule as a family doctor was brutal. I had to juggle 12-hour shifts and emergencies that didn’t care about dinner plans.

My patients needed me. And if I’m being honest, our mortgage needed me more.

I made almost double what Nick brought home from his sales job. Not that I threw it in his face or anything.

It was just a fact, like the sky being blue or coffee being necessary for survival.

When I finally got pregnant, I was equally terrified and excited.

The ultrasound tech moved the wand across my belly, squinting at the screen. Then she smiled. “Well, looks like you’ve got two heartbeats in there.”

Nick actually whooped.

“Twins?” He grabbed my hand, his whole face lit up like Christmas morning. “Oh God, Ava. Double the dream.

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