So, my daughter-in-law’s chilling in the maternity ward, while me and my hubby are run ragged looking after the grandkids. Honestly, I reckon she checked into hospital early on purpose!
Our son goes, *”Mum, come on, you see how it is—you’re the only one who can help!”* says sixty-year-old Margaret Smith from Manchester. *”What else can I do? I help as much as I can, but I’m completely knackered…”*
Ten days ago, her daughter-in-law, Emily—nine months pregnant—started complaining of a fever, runny nose, and sore throat. A couple of days later, she lost her taste and smell. Margaret’s son, James, works long hours on a construction site, so there was no one to mind the kids. So Emily, quick as you like, checked herself into hospital—*”for monitoring.”* Meanwhile, the two little ones—four and two—got dumped with Grandma and Grandad.
*”Look, I get it, health comes first, especially at 41 weeks… But why so long? Last time, she had the baby in a couple of hours—we barely made it to the hospital! Now she’s been lounging there for two weeks like it’s a spa holiday. Binge-watching telly, made her husband bring her laptop, says she’s ‘waiting for contractions.’ Meanwhile, we’re here with the kids, ready to hide in the cupboard!”*
Margaret sounds well put out. She’s not one to moan, but the exhaustion and frustration just keep piling up. Emily used to always leave the kids with her own mum. But now? Suddenly, Dad’s side of the family is her *”only hope.”*
*”Me and William—that’s my husband—aren’t spring chickens. I’m run off my feet from dawn till dusk. The kids are wild—one’s in nappies, the other screams if his spoon’s the wrong colour. Mealtime’s a warzone, bath time’s a battle, bedtime’s a full-on circus. They haven’t forgotten their mum either—kept asking when she’s coming back. Honestly, I don’t even know anymore…”*
Margaret remembers last time Emily checked in early too. Back then, there was just one kid, and they had to shove him onto a neighbour until Grandma could get there. An hour and a half after the call, the baby was born. Lightning fast. And now—here we are again, baby number three.
*”Six months ago, James drops the bombshell—another one on the way. I said, ‘You what? Trying to break a record?’ And he goes, ‘Mum, don’t worry, we’ve got it all planned.’ Oh yeah? All planned when it’s smooth sailing. But the second there’s trouble—‘Mum, it’s all down to you!’ Well, what can I do? Can’t exactly say no. But it’s killing me!”*
The eldest was in nursery, but Emily pulled him out—*”so he doesn’t catch anything before the birth.”* Margaret can’t ferry him across town, so they’re stuck at home. And home? Chaos and screaming. Even when the kids finally pipe down, she can still hear their shrieks echoing in her head.
*”The little one can’t use a spoon—porridge everywhere. The older one whinges all day, they fight, they scrap. I look at them and think—how’s Emily gonna handle three? I can’t even survive two!”*
Evenings, when Grandad gets back from work, he takes over, and Margaret preps meals for the next day. Feeding, washing, laundry, cleaning—it’s gone nine by the time she can ring her son.
*”I ask—any news, has she had it? James says no, same as ever, just waiting. They did a scan—it’s a girl, healthy. So what now? She’s gonna stay in for another fortnight?”*
Margaret doesn’t bother hiding her irritation. It’s not the pregnancy that bothers her—it’s how it’s all been handled. Emily, she reckons, has turned it into a holiday—lazing about in hospital, chatting on forums, watching films, while home and kids get brushed aside.
*”I told my son—get her discharged. Have it at home, call an ambulance like everyone else. His mate’s wife had hers and was back the next day! My friend’s daughter had a quick birth too. But with us? It’s a whole bloomin’ production!”*
*”What does James say?”*
*”What can he say? ‘Mum, just hang in there, not long now, she can’t leave at this stage.’ I said—she can sign herself out and come home! But no chance. Honestly, I’m hanging on by a thread…”*
So who’s in the right here? The daughter-in-law, looking after her health by checking in early? Or the mother-in-law, worn to the bone taking on someone else’s mum duties?
Hard to say. But one thing’s clear—Grandma’s patience is running on empty.
