Author: Eryn 🐰

So… it’s another day, another problem.

I think I’ve mentioned before that Hector and I have been trying to buy a house. At this point? I’m over it.

The biggest issue is that Hector is dead set on buying what he considers a “real” house, while I’m perfectly okay with starting with a manufactured home. Since I’m stuck in Vegas for the pregnancy, he’s the one meeting with realtors, asking questions, and touring places without me. Honestly, that’s a huge step for him, so I’m proud of that. But he was already hesitant about manufactured homes, and the realtors definitely aren’t helping.

One thing he came back and told me was, “They said it’s better to buy a manufactured home and then quickly sell it or rent it out so you can move into a real house.”

And I’m just sitting there thinking… yeah, of course they told you that.

They’re realtors.

They make money every time you buy and sell. Of course they want you to become a repeat customer.

But who in this economy—especially in California—actually has the money to buy one house, then turn around and buy another?

Certainly not us.

Honestly, not many people we know either.

Out of all of our friends in California who own homes, only two actually bought them on their own.

One owns a townhouse.

The other owns the house we used to rent, and she has a government job. Even then, her mortgage was actually higherthan what we paid in rent, so she was losing money by renting it to us. But since she was stationed somewhere else, making a little money was better than letting the house sit empty.

Everyone else we know became homeowners because their parents passed away.

And… well… tough luck for us.

Hector’s parents have one house and three kids. I highly doubt anyone is inheriting that house anytime soon.

My parents rent.

So that’s not exactly a retirement plan for us.

The reality is simple.

We don’t have enough money for the down payment on a traditional house.

We don’t have the credit lenders want.

And those first-time homebuyer programs everyone loves to recommend? They’re great… if you already have decent credit or enough money saved for a down payment.

If you don’t, they’re not nearly as magical as people make them sound.

So finally I said, “You know what? Let’s just pause this whole house conversation.”

Because here’s the thing…

I’ve found multiple homes in Vegas that we can actually afford.

But Hector doesn’t want to move to Vegas.

At the end of the day, it’s technically his settlement money we’d be using to buy anything right now, so I can only push the Vegas conversation so much.

Then I thought, “Fine. Forget buying a house. Let’s just rent an apartment.”

Find one you can afford on your income alone.

Because once the baby gets here, I’m planning to stay home for at least a few months before going back to work. Then we have to figure out childcare, which is ridiculously expensive.

So we need to budget like we’re living on one income.

He doesn’t like the $500 apartments I found in Vegas.

Because… Vegas.

He doesn’t like the $1,200 apartments I found in Compton.

Because… Compton.

To be fair, most of the ones I found were in neighborhoods where sex workers are out walking the streets.

My response?

“I doubt they’re going to bother us.”

Apparently that’s not a convincing argument.

But my point is these are apartments we can actually afford.

We can’t comfortably afford the $1,800 apartments without dipping into our savings every month.

Personally, I’d rather stay in separate states and live with our parents a little longer than sign a lease we already know we can’t afford.

Maybe that’s just me.

Marriage and parenthood involve sacrificing things.

Yes, our friends are in California.

Yes, our lives are in California.

But we also can’t afford California.

That’s literally how we ended up in this situation in the first place.

I’m trying really hard to stay optimistic because, somehow, this has to work out.

Come September, this baby is going to need a place to come home to.

If we still haven’t figured something out and I end up staying with my parents after giving birth, I might finally throw the tantrum I’ve been holding back and tell Hector we’re moving to Vegas.

I don’t actually want it to come to that.

Because then we’d probably both end up resenting each other, and that’s the last thing I want.

What’s really breaking my heart is that I’m in my third trimester, and there’s a very real possibility that I’ll give birth to our first child without my husband living with me.

The thought of recovering from childbirth, learning how to be a mom, and spending those first few weeks—or even months—without him by my side hurts more than I can put into words.

I know we’ll figure something out eventually.

I just wish we didn’t have to figure it out like this.

Dear future Eryn,
If you’re ever considering moving while seven months pregnant, this is your sign: don’t.

Seriously. Don’t do it.

And while we’re at it, don’t procrastinate packing either. Thinking you’ll “have time later” is a lie you tell yourself right before you’re surrounded by half-filled boxes, random kitchen utensils, and pure chaos.

Also, don’t let Hector spend two days helping your roommate move when the two of you have your own move to finish. Congratulations—you just put yourselves two days behind, and somehow the deadline didn’t magically move with you.

Speaking of Hector…

If your husband asks you at 2:30 in the morning, “Where is this going?” after you’ve explained your packing system three separate times, you are allowed to be annoyed. Yes, he’s tired. I get it.

But I’m tired too.

I’m growing an entire human. My back hurts constantly. I can’t bend, lift, or pack the way I normally would, and every task takes twice as long as it should. I don’t have the energy to do what actually needs to be done, and somehow I’m still expected to keep answering the same questions over and over.

And can we talk about the cleaning?

Aside from one amazing friend who actually helped, this house has barely been cleaned. I finally scrubbed the bathroom, feeling like at least one thing was accomplished, and then today my roommate decided it was the perfect time to give both dogs a bath.

Now the bathroom is a disaster again.

I’m so beyond frustrated.

The things that were supposed to already be checked off the list—taking everything to storage, dropping items off at Hector’s parents’ house—still haven’t happened. Every unfinished task feels like another brick being piled onto my shoulders.

And the best part?

I have to leave tomorrow.

Right now, I feel exhausted, overwhelmed, hormonal, sore, and about five minutes away from screaming into the void.

So future Eryn, if you ever think, “Maybe moving while pregnant won’t be that bad,” come back and read this.

Remember the aching back.

Remember the endless boxes.

Remember the bathroom.

Remember trying to organize everything while running on fumes.

And remember that your sanity is worth planning ahead for.

Next time, pack early. Ask for help sooner. Protect your energy. And for the love of everything, never schedule a move this late in pregnancy again. Or honestly just Do Not Move while PREGNANT!!!