I’m sorry, but despite my best intentions, I just can’t bring myself to call my mother-in-law “mum.” When I was getting married, that’s what I wanted. I was so overjoyed when Mark proposed to me, but back then, I imagined my marriage very differently. I longed to marry, to love and be loved. I watched with envy as my friends enjoyed their happy marriages, listening to their tales of how full of love and mutual care their relationships were.
I dreamed of a family where my husband would be my knight, my support, my refuge, and our children would grow up in a loving and happy home. I wanted to be a caring, loving wife and give my husband everything I could.
The first time I saw how Mark treated his mother, I thought she had raised him to be exactly the man I had dreamed of. During a conversation we had right before the wedding, Mark’s mother said something that stuck with me: “My dear, there has only ever been one woman in my son’s life. Remember, none will ever be more important than me.” At the time, I didn’t quite grasp what she meant, but as time went on, I unfortunately understood.
In the early days of our marriage, I wasn’t bothered by Mark caring for his mum; I was impressed by how well-mannered he was and the strong bond he had with her. But over time, it started to bother me that he never refused her anything. He would fulfill her most bizarre requests, like leaving the house at five in the morning because she fancied a fresh pastry, or running around town to find cheaper alternatives for her medicines so she wouldn’t spend a few extra pounds. If she called to say her door was squeaking, he’d dress and leave without even saying a word to me. The doors in our own home also needed fixing, but that didn’t concern him; for him, only his mum mattered, and I was invisible.
One instance, after Mark picked me up from work, she called to complain that I’m heartless and lazy, taking advantage of Mark instead of letting him rest. Sure, I could’ve taken the train or bus home, but I didn’t see anything wrong in my actions. After all, Mark is my husband, and I should be the most important woman in his life.
The next day, I wanted to talk to Mark about what happened, but as usual, he didn’t see any problem. Right after our conversation, his mum called, wanting to go to the countryside for some fresh air. Mark just said he couldn’t refuse, as it was his mother.
Mark is a wonderful son, but he never should’ve become anyone’s husband, because no one could endure such treatment. His mum wasn’t shy about calling in the middle of the night, sharing her discomfort and sleeplessness, not caring that we needed to rest for work in the morning. What did Mark do in this situation? He called a taxi because he’d had a few drinks earlier, and went to see why she couldn’t sleep. Instead of thanking him, she scolded him for drinking in the evening when she might need help at any moment.
Sure, he can refrain from doing many things, not just drinking, but does that mean he doesn’t have the right to a normal life simply because he’s the son of such a demanding and possessive woman? My mother-in-law is wrecking our marriage, believing her son is still her property, while I’m merely the wife when I should be his top priority.
Thank goodness we don’t have kids, as they’d quickly realize they couldn’t rely on their dad because granny comes first. After years of humiliation and being second, I fell into depression, yet even then, I couldn’t count on any support or care from Mark. My greatest comfort came from my best friend, who understood how cunning this illness is. I longed for a few words of support, sympathy, and understanding from my beloved, but instead, once again, he threw himself into working in his mother’s garden.
Yes, I admit, I lost. I couldn’t become what his mum was to him, though I tried very hard. It’s a shame all my efforts went unnoticed by Mark. He’s truly devoted to one woman, his mother. The loving words he spoke to me were simply a formality, an agreement between bride and groom.
I never wanted perfection because it doesn’t exist; I just wanted genuine affection. A good husband doesn’t have to organize clothes with a ruler, in the correct color coordination like Mark. He can go out with friends for a pint and come back home after midnight, but not my husband; he was raised to be the perfect son.
I’m very glad I finally realized that Mark will never be the man I dreamed of. We don’t have children because he feared home responsibilities would consume him, leaving little time for his mum.
Mark cared for his mum like no other, and I accepted the fact that I’d never win. I decided that I would find a man I could love with all my heart, who would make me his number one. I’m now expecting my little prince, who will be my entire world, who will love and need me.
I vowed to raise my son to be a true, responsible man who will one day create his own family and make his wife happy.
