Back in 2006, when I was expecting my first child, my partner and I made the leap from Brooklyn to what we called the “suburbs” — which was actually just a quaint little town in Queens, right near the Long Island border. Armed with a chunk of inheritance money, we thought it was the perfect time to invest in a cozy co-op apartment, planning to sell it a few years down the line. The real estate market was sizzling hot, and we figured we’d rake in a nice profit to upgrade to a bigger place — ideally, even a house someday!
Then, as fate would have it, the recession hit, bringing with it a massive real estate crash. Our apartment plummeted in value, and just a couple of years later, my partner lost his job and spent a year in the unemployment trenches. Our finances took a nosedive along with our property investment.
In the midst of all this, we welcomed a second child, and by the time he was a year old, our snug little apartment felt like a sardine can. We knew we had to move, but the thought of losing our hard-earned money (and then some) from the apartment was daunting.
When we finally sold our place, it was for a fraction of what we paid seven years earlier, and after accounting for real estate and moving costs, we didn’t even break even. It was a total bummer, one of the most stressful moments in my life, and I still feel that knot in my stomach when I reminisce about it.
We eventually found a duplex with more than double the space and a yard for the kids to run around in. We adore our neighborhood and feel truly at home here. But we rent, and with our “nest egg” evaporated, the prospect of ever owning a house feels like a distant dream.
Growing up, I always envisioned myself as a homeowner. Raised by a single mom who could never afford one, I yearned for a place of my own, complete with that charming white picket fence. Maybe that’s why I was so eager to invest in real estate as a young parent. I often replay the decision in my head, but I remind myself that the market was thriving when we bought the apartment — who could have known what was to come?
Currently, saving enough for a down payment in our area, which boasts one of the priciest housing markets in the country, seems improbable. We could move, but we’re rooted here, with three out of four of my kids’ grandparents nearby, actively involved in their lives. I wouldn’t trade that connection for anything. Plus, our savings are funneled into our kids’ activities, summer camps, and — gulp — college funds.
The bottom line? You can’t have it all. If things were different, maybe homeownership would be within reach. But it is what it is, and my biggest challenge now is to accept that reality.
Giving up on a lifelong dream is no walk in the park. Parenthood (and adulthood, for that matter) can throw unexpected curveballs, and life rarely unfolds as planned. There’s a sense of security and fulfillment that comes with homeownership that I long for, and it stings to think I might not be able to provide that for my children.
However, I’ve learned to let go of those regrets. What truly matters is that we have a rich and vibrant family life, filled with love and warmth. My kids have good friends, a fantastic school, and a supportive community they can call their own. We may not have that white picket fence, but we’re living a happy, domestic life nonetheless.
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Summary
Jenna reflects on her journey from aspiring homeowner to accepting the realities of renting after the housing market crash derailed her plans. Despite the challenges, she finds contentment in her vibrant family life and community, realizing that a true home is built on love and connection rather than ownership.