My MIL acted like my pregnancy belonged to her: she painted the nursery without asking, smoked stinky herbs to ‘ensure a boy,’ and bossed me around daily. But when I gave birth to a girl, her cruel reaction made me smile… Because I was ready.
I never thought pregnancy would feel like a marathon, where everyone from my doctor to my MIL kept painting the finish line for me.
Still, I was happy. Truly.
My husband, Jake, was endlessly gentle and caring.
“Just don’t stress, honey. Sleep more. Eat your broccoli.”
But his mother Sheila… Oh, she’d been sighing dramatically since our very first ultrasound. Not about the baby’s health — no, that barely interested her. But it was about something far more important to her.
“If it’s a girl, I honestly don’t know how I’ll cope…”
“Cope with what, exactly?” I asked, even though I already knew the script by heart.
“Well, we only have boys in our family! I had three brothers, my husband had two! Jake is the first grandson! Imagine how it’ll look — a girl?!”
“Were you a boy too?” I muttered once under my breath.
“Oh, darling, girls rarely grow into brilliant women like me.”
I rolled my eyes. All I wanted — just one day of silence. Just one.
To say Sheila was “involved” in the pregnancy would be like calling a tornado “a bit windy.” She unilaterally decided the nursery should be blue and painted it herself while I was home, gagging through morning sickness.
She lit bundles of mystery herbs from her “fertility rituals Facebook group” and paraded through the apartment chanting things like:
“Strong seed, strong son!”
Moreover, my MIL had me rubbing my belly clockwise with warm oil at 3 p.m. sharp every Thursday, and once tried to sneak
All that — and we hadn’t even reached the third trimester.
At our 20-week ultrasound, the doctor confirmed it: a boy. I sighed with relief because it meant fewer monologues from Sheila.
“I knew it!” she squealed with glee. “A little champion! I can already see him playing baseball!”
“What if he wants to do ballet?” Jake whispered to me, barely hiding his grin.
Sheila nearly choked on her sparkling water. Everything went relatively smoothly after that.
I counted down the days, slept with a pillow between my knees, and ordered pineapple pizza at 3 a.m. like a true hormonal goddess.
“Sweetheart, I have to leave for two days — just two! Promise me you won’t give birth without me.”
“Sure,” I teased. “I’ll keep the baby in with sheer willpower until you’re back.”
But deep down, something in me felt uneasy.
Of course, the next night, the contractions started. I tried calling Jake — no signal. Typical. I called my MIL — she was at my door in twenty minutes flat
“I told you it’d be today! Your belly dropped weird yesterday. I knew it!”
“Maybe now’s not the best time for belly analysis…” I groaned, gripping the doorframe as another contraction hit.
“Where’s your emergency kit? Who packed this hospital bag? Did you take the extra blanket? Honestly, everything falls on me!”
I sank into the car, clutching my belly, while she managed to call three of her friends to announce:
“We’re going to meet the grandson!”
She chirped like she had a gynecology degree with a minor in psychic predictions.
“The important thing is he’s going to look like Jake! Same jawline. In our family, it’s a point of pride!”
Thank God, the car screeched to a stop in front of the hospital. Sheila leapt out like a superhero.
“Quickly! The heir is coming!”
I climbed out slowly, eyes turned to the night sky. “Okay, baby. Your time has come. Just… maybe hold off showing your gender for a few more peaceful minutes?”
***
Labor was… well, labor. I won’t sugarcoat it. It was painful, long, and wild. But then — a cry. A small, pure, unmistakable first cry. The nurse beamed at me.
I looked down at that tiny face, and in that moment, I didn’t care about anything else. She was my entire universe. But my MIL…
“I… I don’t understand. The ultrasound said… It was supposed to be a boy…”
“Sometimes they get it wrong,” I said, not taking my eyes off my baby girl.
“No, this is… this can’t be right… Is this even my son’s child?”I slowly raised my head.
“Excuse me, what did you just say?”
“I’m just asking! These things happen! Maybe there was a mix-up…”
I had to physically restrain myself from hurling a pillow at her.
