I always believed that having a baby would bring us closer, but I never imagined that my husband’s mother would drive us apart. She controlled everything, and my husband let her. I tried setting boundaries, but nothing prepared me for the betrayal that left me alone, holding my newborn.
From the moment I learned I was pregnant, I felt overjoyed. Bill and I had dreamed of this for so long. But his mother, Jessica, didn’t share our excitement—she saw the baby as hers to control. She had never liked me and made it clear that I wasn’t good enough for her son.
When I was pregnant, Jessica took over. She attended every doctor’s appointment, dictated my diet and routine, and even chose the nursery furniture, dismissing all my preferences. She even declared the nursery should be blue, assuming I was having a boy.
Despite constant nausea, she continued to visit, cooking for Bill while I was left vomiting in the bathroom. I asked Bill to set boundaries, but he didn’t. Then, at the ultrasound, Jessica was already there, sneering when we learned we were having a girl, calling her a disappointment.
The pain only deepened during labor when complications left me near death. Jessica’s response wasn’t concern but anger that I hadn’t told her I was in labor. She snatched my baby from the nurse, refusing to let me hold her.
Two weeks later, Jessica falsely accused me of infidelity, and Bill kicked me out without question. I was devastated but eventually found strength. When I gave him the DNA test proving Eliza was his, Bill begged me to come back. But I had already made my decision—I was filing for divorce and seeking full custody. Eliza and I would be just fine.
