The day my son gave us an ultimatum we never saw coming

My only child, my miracle baby, issued an ultimatum we never expected. My husband and I have been crying for days. We can't figure out where we went wrong.

Getting Ethan wasn't easy.

For almost ten years, I couldn't get pregnant. We saw every specialist in the state. Fertility treatments, prayers, support groups—you name it, we tried it. By some miracle, Ethan came into our lives when my husband and I were well into our forties.

We've always lived modestly. Very modestly. We adored our son but didn't spoil him. We taught him traditional values and reminded him that character matters more than possessions.

"Money doesn't buy happiness," I'd tell him often. And I truly believed he understood. We always had what we needed—home-cooked meals, a clean house, a loving atmosphere.

My husband and I never even argued in front of him. Kids don't always understand, and they often want what others have. I remember when Ethan was about ten and demanded a gaming PC like his friends had.

We explained it was a waste of money. A basic laptop was enough for schoolwork; everything else was just unnecessary. Same went for brand-name clothes and trendy sneakers.

You can't just mindlessly participate in this consumer rat race. Today you want Air Jordans like some kid in class. Tomorrow they're out of style, and you're still unsatisfied.

What matters is studying hard and having a plan for the future. In the chase for things, you must stay grounded. We're drowning in consumerism, not realizing corporations are manipulating our desires.

I was always proud that my son wasn't like other kids. No tantrums, no demanding instant gratification. He's growing into a good person, I thought.

Everything changed when Ethan turned sixteen.

The teenage rebellion hit hard, and his behavior became unrecognizable. He started talking back, refused to do chores, and responded to every request with an eye roll. He'd mumble something and slam his bedroom door.

Ethan started coming home late and disappeared all weekend. Who his friends were, we had no idea. "What if he's gotten in with a bad crowd?" I worried.

My husband tried to reassure me. He said all teenagers go through this phase—it's how they assert themselves and prepare for adulthood. But we were never like this. We were teenagers once too.

I even tried taking Ethan to a therapist, but he just exploded. Said I was the one who needed a doctor—a psychiatrist, preferably. That we were controlling every aspect of his life, and he was old enough to make his own decisions.

His grades plummeted too. I've been called to the school twice. They complained about his behavior, his failing grades. They hinted he might be asked to leave if things didn't change.

I don't understand what's happened to my boy. He was always so kind, so open. Now it's like someone replaced him. The last straw was his demand for an expensive smartphone. Not just asking—demanding it immediately.

My husband and I were having dinner when Ethan stormed into the kitchen screaming that he was sick of living in poverty. "You live like you're broke, and you want me to be the same. But I want to live like everyone else. I'm embarrassed to carry around a basic phone. Everyone already makes fun of me!"

I tried to explain that material things don't matter, that what's inside counts. He only got more worked up and declared he'd leave home if we didn't buy him that phone—the latest iPhone, over a thousand dollars.

"For once, show me you actually love me instead of hiding behind this 'inner values' nonsense. If you don't do what I want," he added, "you'll regret it." Then he slammed his door.

Since that day, Ethan hasn't spoken to us. He walks around like a storm cloud. My husband and I are at a complete loss. Should we give in, go into debt, and buy the gadget? But that's a dead end. Next time he'll just demand something bigger.

My husband says we should compromise. That this phase will pass, our sweet boy will return and act like himself again. I can't share his optimism. And I don't want to rack up credit card debt. We've lived debt-free for years, and now we'd have to figure something out.

But what if he actually keeps his promise and runs away? How would he survive? Who would help him? And if CPS finds out, they might take him away, saying we've failed as parents.

I don't know what to do. The atmosphere at home is suffocating. I don't even want to come home from work anymore. Ethan won't speak to us, just reminds us the clock is ticking and he's waiting for his phone.

How did our family end up in this nightmare? I still can't explain it to myself.