At a mayoral forum last year, a woman raised her hand. She said she and her husband both worked in tech. Between them, they earned $400,000 a year — a figure that would place them in the 97th percentile (opens in new tab) for U.S. households.
In San Francisco, however, it meant that the couple had abandoned an attempt to buy a home after realizing they couldn’t afford it — even when pooling resources with her parents. And she was pregnant with twins, terrified about the cost of child care coming down the pike.
“We can’t make it work here,” she told the room. “What gives?”
It‘s a question that may be hard to take seriously: The family’s $400,000 is, by any national measure, a lot of money — about five times the U.S. median household income (opens in new tab). But San Francisco has a way of humbling a paycheck.
After The Standard’s report last month on what child care costs across the income spectrum in San Francisco — from a single mother earning $18,000 a year to a family spending $160,000 annually on nannies and private school — the most consistent response we heard wasn’t about the most extreme cases. It was about the ones just above the cutoff for the city’s new child-care subsidy: families earning $310,000 to $400,000, who, as one Instagram commenter put it, “are barely making enough to get by but also making too much to qualify for subsidies — it hurts.”
Here is the math. A household earning $400,000 in San Francisco, after federal and state taxes, takes home roughly $260,000 a year (opens in new tab). Subtract $5,000 a month in rent, the going rate (opens in new tab) for a two-bedroom apartment, and you’re at $200,000. Now account for child care, at $30,000 a year (opens in new tab), and a single-child home is left with $170,000. That still leaves plenty for discretionary spending, yet, for San Francisco’s comfortable-but-not-rich, a feeling of precarity persists.
‘I’m not 25 and an AI software engineer. I’m a 37-year-old mom. And I don’t know if I can make it work here.’
Let’s be clear: These parents are not poor. But in San Francisco, families earning between $310,000 and $400,000 say they occupy a specific, uncomfortable middle ground in which it feels like many of their upper-middle-class dreams — more kids, homeownership, summer camp — cannot be fulfilled. And any loss of a job — a heightened fear for people working in tech and other AI-shaken white-collar professions — could send them teetering from success to struggle.
Everyone we interviewed spoke on the condition of anonymity in order to reveal intimate details about their personal finances. The following interviews have been edited for length and clarity. Salaries and child-care expenses are self-reported.
The marketer wife and her engineer husband
Neighborhood: Outer Sunset
Kids: Twins, age 6 months
Combined household income: $400,000
Child-care spend: $90,000 per year
Housing status: Renters ($5,000 per month)
The cost breakdown: We have a full-time nanny, five days a week. We pay her $42 an hour, which comes out to about $90,000 a year. The cost gives us heart palpitations. We know it’s not sustainable, and we’ve started dipping into our savings. Later this year we’re switching to daycare, which will save us about $1,500 a month — not nothing, but not exactly a solution either.
Why this setup: I went back to work full time when the twins were 3 months old. I started a new job and wasn’t really given the option to start later. With both of us working, we needed someone in the house to look after the babies, since they were still so tiny. People sometimes say, “Well, you’re barely breaking even, you could just stay home.” But I don’t want to stay home. I’m a productive person. I love to work on things that matter. The mental health value of continuing to work is worth it, even if the math is brutal.
The financial reality: I was let go from my previous position — in a field I really believed in — while I was pregnant. I spent months applying to a hundred jobs and couldn’t land one. The job I eventually took is in AI, which I have real reservations about. But I have twins, and it’s expensive to live here, so that’s what I’m doing so we can make ends meet. It’s not where I ever pictured my career going.
The trade-offs: With our income right now, we can’t afford to buy a house. We looked in the East Bay recently and tried pooling resources with my parents for intergenerational living. Even with what they could contribute, we couldn’t make it work.
The “more kids” question: I almost hit the floor when they told me I was having twins. I went from not being sure I wanted children to getting pregnant relatively quickly to finding out I was having two at once. So no, we have a boy and a girl, and we’re done.
The SF factor: My husband is from another country. His mother visited recently and couldn’t believe what we’re paying for child care. We’ve thought about moving to where he’s from, but our jobs are here, which is the Catch 22: The places with these salaries are the places where you can’t afford to live on them. I’m invested in this city. I go to every civic meeting I can. I’ve got San Francisco’s back. I just don’t feel like it has mine. I’m not 25 and an AI software engineer. I’m a 37-year-old mom. And I don’t know if I can make it work here.
The professor wife and her surgical resident husband
Neighborhood: Haight-Ashbury
Kids: One 8-month-old
Combined household income: $315,000
Child-care spend: $36,000 per year
Housing status: Owners ($2,000 per month mortgage)
The cost breakdown: Our baby is in a full-time nanny share. That costs us $34,000 a year, plus we spend about $200 a month on babysitting. Since our baby was born, we’ve had a rotating cast of family members living with us and helping with child care. In the last eight months, there was only about a month and a half when we didn’t have someone staying with us to assist.
Why this setup: We couldn’t afford an individual nanny. And with daycare, we just couldn’t handle the unpredictability — the slightest sign of sickness, and they can’t come in. My husband works 80 to 90 hours a week. With his schedule, I’m essentially a single parent.
The financial reality: When we saw the news about the city’s new child-care package, we were originally excited. Then we looked into it and realized we weren’t eligible. Our combined income is right at that threshold. We’re still saving into retirement accounts, and we budget for a vacation each year, but after that we’re month-to-month. The only reason it works is because our mortgage is so low, thanks to a housing assistance program that my work provides. That is a game changer.
The trade-offs: We rely heavily on family. My mom just relocated from the East Coast to help us. When she was looking for a studio, we went to open houses where 30 other people were vying for the same unit. Studios were going above asking, and we had a very limited budget. The place my mom ended up getting isn’t technically a legal apartment because it doesn’t have a kitchen. But it was the only affordable option she could find. She has a toaster oven and a hot plate. She cooks at our house and brings food back home. She’s going to live there full time, and I honestly don’t know how I would cope without her support.
The “more kids” question: We would like to have a second child. My mom moving here makes that feel more possible than it did before. But it’s an ongoing conversation. It’s scary to think about potentially doubling what we’re already paying, even if it’s just for a year or two.
The clinical liaison wife and her hotel manager wife
Neighborhood: Duboce Triangle
Kids: One 2-year-old
Combined household income: $350,000
Child-care spend: $48,000 per year
Housing status: Renters ($4,000 per month)
The cost breakdown: We’re in a nanny share — $4,000 a month, or $48,000 a year. In August, our toddler ages into preschool, which will run about $42,000 a year. So the number is coming down slightly, but not in any way that changes the fundamental math.
Why this setup: A private nanny was too expensive. The nanny share felt like the best of both worlds — the intimacy of in-home care, plus another baby for our child to grow up alongside.
The financial reality: Before our child, there was another ledger to balance. As a same-sex couple, we had to save up before we could even start trying — donor sperm, IVF, treatment costs. All told, around $19,000 before we got to the baby itself. We don’t qualify for the city’s new child-care subsidy. When the news broke, I rushed to check our income like everyone else. We just missed it.
The “more kids” question: We planned for two, so we banked a second embryo. I’m healthy, I could carry again, and our child’s age is perfect for a sibling. But when I run the numbers — $48,000 for a nanny plus $42,000 for preschool — there’s just no give. The stress around whether to have a second child is a different kind of stress; it’s actually just a sadness. I know there are parents in this city with less than we have who make it work. But for our lifestyle, we just don’t want to be overly stressed out in the day-to-day. So we’ve mostly just pushed the embryo out of our minds — which isn’t really a decision. It’s just unfortunate, because we didn’t anticipate how costly child care would be and how hard it would make choosing to have a second child when we were ready.
The SF factor: We’d leave if the right opportunity came. But leaving isn’t simple. We’re a same-sex couple, and San Francisco gives us something that’s hard to put a price on. We don’t feel judged. If we moved, we’d have to think carefully about where — we wouldn’t want to live somewhere rights are being taken away.
The consultant husband and his stay-at-home wife
Neighborhood: Mission
Kids: One 2-year-old
Combined household income: $400,000
Child-care spend: $12,000 per year
Housing status: Owners ($4,300 per month mortgage)
The cost breakdown: We don’t pay for daycare or a nanny. When my wife got pregnant, we ran the numbers, and her salary would have mostly gone toward child care after taxes. So we decided she wouldn’t go back to work, and we’d adjust to one income. Our main child-care expense is flying family in. If I’m traveling for a conference or we just need extra help, we’ll fly relatives out to stay with us. It probably averages out to about $1,000 a month.
Why this setup: Financially, it made sense for my wife to stay home. But it’s intense. I get a “break” in the sense that I leave for work; she doesn’t. She’s always on. During the day with our child, my wife says the city’s free programs, things like library story times, have been huge.
The financial reality: I make around $400,000 a year, depending on the year. It sounds like a lot, and I know it is. But on one income, with a $4,300 mortgage and everything else, it feels different than it used to. We bought our place in 2020, in that brief window when rates were low and competition slowed. That was lucky. But now the market’s down, so selling isn’t really an option. There’s also job insecurity — consulting is changing quickly with AI — and it’s stressful knowing this is our only income. When the city expanded the child-care subsidy threshold, I actually went back and checked my last five tax returns to see if there was any chance we’d qualify. We don’t.
The trade-offs: The trade-off is pressure. It’s pressure on me to earn, and pressure on my wife, who’s with our child all day. We’ve made lifestyle changes to make it work, but the bills didn’t shrink when we dropped to one salary. We try to put money into our daughter’s 529 [savings account], so instead of buying her gifts, we ask family and friends to contribute to it for birthdays and holidays.
The “more kids” question: We talk about having a second, but space and cost are real considerations. A two-bedroom with one bathroom is already tight, especially when family comes to stay. If it happened, we’d be thrilled — but we’d stop at two. In San Francisco, even one feels like a big financial commitment.
The healthcare worker wife and her healthcare worker husband
Neighborhood: Outer Sunset
Kids: 5 and 7 years old
Combined household income: $365,000
Child-care spend: $32,000 per year
Housing status: Owners ($4,800 per month mortgage)
The cost breakdown: Our older child is now in public school, which gave us a huge boost. Our younger one goes to preschool half-days — about $1,000 a month — and we supplement with a nanny for the rest, which runs $1,600 a month. Before our older one entered SFUSD, we were spending closer to $90,000 a year. Now, a lot of what we’re no longer spending on child care goes straight into sports, camps, and activities.
Why this setup: We chose this preschool for the community. A lot of our close friends’ kids go there, and we wanted to stay connected to them.
The financial reality: The beginning of the year is very stressful. You’ve barely come up for air from the holidays, which are so expensive, and then you’re forced to sign up for summer camps all at once, or you can’t get a spot. A lot of times we end up putting camps on a credit card and slowly paying it off each pay period, because it’s such a huge lump sum. Then you’ve got to pay taxes on top of it. On paper, we make a lot of money. But we never qualify for any kind of subsidy, and we’re at the lower end of this bracket. So even though a good amount comes in every month, it goes out so fast.
The trade-offs: We’re definitely taking fewer vacations than we’d like, or than I feel like our peers are. We’d love more space, or to do some remodeling on our current home to make it work better for our family, but we’ve put that off. I don’t know how we’d ever do it unless we took out a home equity line of credit.
The “more kids” question: We’re done. That’s not even a financial decision — it’s a space decision. We don’t have room for another child in this house.
The SF factor: Our community is what keeps us here. We love our public school. We got really lucky with it. But honestly, we also feel a little trapped. We refinanced during the pandemic and got down to a 2.6% interest rate, which makes us feel stuck — I don’t know where we would ever go or how we could trade up for more space in this current climate.