We have six kids, but I’m also the only one who does all the chores and cooks food for everyone, while my husband plays his PlayStation. Meanwhile, I’m always TOO tired to even confront him.

I don’t want to break up the family but also don’t want to live like this. WHAT SHOULD I DO?

If you told me ten years ago that I’d be a mother to six kids and still considering a seventh, I would’ve laughed until I cried. Back then, I was full of energy, passion, and dreams. I wanted a big family, yes, but I also wanted a partner—someone to build with, someone to grow with.

Raj used to be sweet. The type of guy who’d notice if I was even a little tired and bring me tea with a biscuit balanced on the saucer. He’d rub my back when I was pregnant, run late-night errands, tell me how strong I was. Somewhere between baby #3 and #5, though, that Raj started fading. The PlayStation became his best friend. I became the default parent, the chef, the maid, the nurse, the scheduler, the human pacifier. And now? Now I’m just… exhausted.

And he wants another baby.

“You’re so good with kids,” he said last week while lounging on the couch, controller in hand. “Imagine a little one again—those baby cuddles, the first steps. Let’s just go for it.”

He said it like we were deciding whether to get another throw pillow.

I didn’t even answer. I was too busy cleaning spilled juice from under the fridge and keeping the twins from smearing peanut butter on the walls.

That night, after finally putting the kids to bed (a two-hour war), I sat alone in the kitchen. I didn’t cry. I just sat. I stared at my hands—dry, cracked, overworked. And for the first time, I let a very real question settle in:

Who am I becoming in this life?

I wasn’t angry. Not yet. More like… heartbroken. I didn’t hate Raj. I just didn’t recognize myself anymore. And that scared me more than anything.

The next morning, I did something different. I didn’t cook breakfast. Didn’t do the laundry. I poured myself a cup of tea and sat at the table while the kids ate cereal from the stash I usually kept hidden for emergencies.