Almost 10 years ago, my husband and I decided to move to Fairfield, CT. Back then, our oldest was three, I was pregnant with our second child, and we were rapidly outgrowing our small 1900s farmhouse in Stamford.
After a few weekends spent driving through almost every town on the Metro North train line, we narrowed our search to Fairfield. Drawn to its beautiful beaches, vibrant downtown, excellent schools, and strong family ties, Fairfield seemed the perfect place for us to grow our family.
After exploring multiple neighborhoods, we zeroed in on our favorite and put in an offer on our dream house – four bedrooms and an open-concept first floor, all on a quiet street near town. Sure, the interior looked more 1990s than 2010s, but compared to the very old (and very small!) home we were leaving, it felt like a mansion. The night our offer was accepted, we celebrated.
Moving in felt like a dream. I will never forget waking up in our new, spacious house, unable to believe it was ours. And as time passed, our love for the house grew. We slowly updated the 90s décor, painted the cabinets, and tore down the red striped wallpaper. We installed shiplap, painted the exterior, and lovingly replanted gardens. With each project, our house felt more like home.
We never imagined leaving until last spring. We were just weeks away from summer break when we unearthed some unexpected problems with the house. Shocked by the discovery, we got to work fixing the problems. But as we did, a nagging thought entered my mind.
Was it worth staying in our current home, or was it time to move on?
At first, I shoved the thought aside. This was our home. How could we ever leave? But as the whisper in my head grew, I voiced it to my husband. It turned out, he too, had been considering the same. Maybe we’d outgrown our home. Maybe it was time for something new.
And so tentatively, we dipped our toes into the local real estate market, focusing on our neighborhood, which we loved and didn’t want to leave. But it turned out that in the ten years since we’d moved in, our neighborhood had grown much more desirable. Prices were sky-high. Houses were selling in days. No one was accepting contingencies.
Our hearts fell as the truth sank in. The only way for us to even consider an upgrade in our current neighborhood would be to sell our house first, then buy something much more expensive.
Sell our house with nowhere to go? Double our mortgage payment? The thoughts made my stomach turn. But still, we considered it, deciding to spend the summer fixing all the smaller problems we’d lived with in our current home, just in case we chose to list it. Like the shower in the primary bath with the broken fixtures, the wobbly pull-down steps to the attic, the worn-out bedroom carpets that were far past their lifespan, and the hole in the ceiling from a long-ago fixed plumbing leak that my husband had patched himself during COVID.
We even hired painters to come in and refresh our handprint-covered walls.
By the fall, our house was sparkling. Months of purging meant we had clean closets, dresser drawers that closed, and a playroom the kids could actually walk through. Looking around at our cleaned-up house, my husband and I began to have second thoughts. And yet there were still problems with our home.
Our refrigerator was failing and would need to be replaced soon. There were a number of home improvement projects we still wanted to complete if we stayed. And no matter how much fixing we did, our home was never going to have the flat backyard my kids and husband coveted.
Yet, with interest rates sky-high and inventory low, we decided not to make any rash decisions. “Let’s not list now. Let’s wait and see what comes on the market,” we told each other.
No sooner had we spoken those words than we learned that a house that checked all the boxes would soon be hitting the market. Not only was it larger than our current home, but it had a gorgeous backyard. Big and flat with a sprawling patio, it was everything my family wanted. Immediately, we jumped into action.
Together, my husband and I began the mortgage preapproval process, while I reorganized our closets at warp speed. We spoke with our realtor about listing prices and cleaned the house until it was picture-ready.
After a week of preparations, the dream house hit the market. And just like the houses we’d casually looked at over the summer, there was a lot of interest. If we wanted the house, we were going to have to win it in a bidding war.
“But our house isn’t even listed yet! We need a mortgage contingency!” I cried.
“Or we take it out and pray everything works,” my husband said.
For a weekend, as the deadline for a “best and final offer” ticked closer, we talked in circles, as if we could talk our way into an answer we liked that would allow us to upgrade our home while minimizing our risk and preserving our sanity.
Of course, no easy answers came. Yet for 48 hours, we could talk of nothing else. About that gorgeous yard, about that higher interest rate. About the risk of submitting an offer without contingencies that would protect us from risk. About all the memories we had in our current house. The first steps, the first bike rides, the lost teeth, and movie nights and pizza parties that had made our house a home.
In the end, we decided not to submit an offer. The house was gorgeous, but the risk was too great. And the gains from moving on seemed too small for the much higher interest rate.
Besides, our current home looked much better than it had back in May. After coming face-to-face with the realities of moving, we realized what we already had was pretty great.
So, after another couple of months of casual looking, we decided to “love it.” This past Christmas, we bought ourselves a new refrigerator. And in the spring, we have plans to spruce up our hilly yard.
While our house may still not be perfect, there is something special in knowing that it holds ten years of our family’s memories, its walls filled with so much laughter and love.
Does this mean we’ll stay here forever? Only time will tell. But right now, this is home. We have no plans to move.
