So, I suggested to my mum that she could stay with us for a month after the babys born, and she decided to move in for a yearand bring Dad along with her.
Three nights now, I havent slept a wink. Guilts chewing at me like a starving animal, not giving me a moments peace. Its like Im standing on the edge of a cliff, torn between duty and my own fears. Im eight months pregnant, and my lifes about to change forever. After the wedding, I moved to my husbands place in Manchester, leaving my childhood home in a little village near Norwich miles behind. My parents stayed there, and we hardly see each otherjust the odd visit here and there, barely enough to count on one hand.
The other day, during one of those visits, Mum and I were sitting in my tiny kitchen with a cuppa. She was reminiscing about how hard it was when I was bornhow exhausted she was, how she nearly lost it, and how it was only Nan who kept her from falling apart. Her words hit me right in the heart. I pictured myself in her shoeshelpless, overwhelmed, with a newborn. And before I even knew what I was saying, I blurted out, *”Mum, why dont you come stay with us after the babys here? Just for a bit, to help me out.”* Her eyes lit up like Id handed her a second chance at life. But then she dropped the bomb: *”Oh, love, your dad and I would be over the moon to stay a whole year! Well even rent out our house and give you the money to help.”*
I froze, like someone had thrown ice water over me. Her words rang in my head like an alarm bell. I adore my dad, I really dohes my world. But I only meant Mum, and for a few weeks, maybe a monthjust till I got my bearings. Not a *year*, and definitely not with Dad in tow! Straight away, I could picture itDad stepping out onto the balcony for a fag. Normally, I let it slide when its just us, but with a baby? I dont want my little one breathing in that smoke, those tiny lungs burning with every cough. And in winter? Hell be swinging that balcony door open and shut, letting in freezing drafts. I can already see my baby sneezing, me panicking, not knowing how to shield them.
And thats not even the worst of it. Dad gets restless when he visitsnothing to do. Either hes glued to the telly, blasting old war films, or dragging my husband down the pub till all hours. I dont mind him unwinding, but with a newborn, I need my husband *here*, not off on lads nights with his father-in-law. Just imagining a year of noise, smoke, and chaos makes my stomach twist.
I finally plucked up the courage to tell Mum straight: *”Mum, I only meant youand just for a month, max.”* Her face fell, eyes full of hurt. She snapped back, *”Im not coming without your dad. Its both of us or nothing.”* Then she left, leaving me in this awful silence. Now I just sit here in the dark, feeling like my hearts being ripped in two. Did I do the right thing? Was I too harsh? Maybe I shouldve just said yes, swallowed my fears for her sake. But how would I survive a whole year of that when the *thought* of it already makes me want to scream?
Guilt whispers that Im selfish, that Mum just wants to help and Im pushing her away. But my heart screams back: *I cant do this. I have to protect my baby, my home, this new life.* I dont know what to do. I lie awake at night, listening to my husband breathing beside me, wonderingwhat if Im wrong? What if Mums right, and Im robbing her of the chance to be there when I need her most? Or am *I* right, standing my ground before my own life gets swallowed up by someone elses plans? Wheres the line? Im drowning in it, and I need someone to throw me a rope before I sink.
