Honestly, mum keeps saying Ive gone a bit offtherails lately, I said, rolling my eyes. Oh, mum says, Poppy snorted, and I could hear the memory of our latest spat flicker through my mind. How could my motherinlaw, Dorothy Whitaker, possibly bring up the time I snapped at her after she started wheeling out her tragic past again? Probably for the hundredth time.
Dorothy, can we change the subject? I asked, trying to be polite but firm.
Shed just begun her usual tirade about the miscarriages she endured decades ago, and she choked on her own words, looking at me with bewildered irritation.
Poppy, Im only trying to be supportive, she said.
Thanks, but I dont need support from someone whose empathy is about as useful as a soggy biscuit, I retorted.
Did you just call me stupid? tears welled up in Dorothys eyes.
Normally, Id try to smooth things over, maybe slip out with a fake work call or claim Id forgotten an appointment. Id spin some excuse to duck her endless lament about her past, but grief is a stubborn beast, especially when it reshapes every corner of a pregnant bodys world.
By the fifth month, Id gone from the everpatient, gentle type to someone who rolls up her sleeves and asks, Wheres the horse and the cottage, then? Lets just get on with fixing what we can. Im fed up with her constant reminders of failed motherhood.
What should I call you, when Ive already told you three hundred times I dont want to discuss your bleak parenting history? I snapped.
You know, I have a friend whos a highfunctioning autistic. He might break into an odd dance in a coffee shop or miss a joke, but even he would agree that bringing up that sort of thing with a pregnant woman is peak idiocy.
So Im not only being a w***e, but also a complete ? Thats how you treat me, just because I tried to be kind? Ive never heard a kind word from you
Maybe Id have something nice to say if youd actually give me a reason! I snapped, slamming the front door shut. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and smiled at myself, feeling oddly satisfied.
I was hoping shed leave me alone for a few weeks, maybe forever. But hopes dont stick when that conversation kicked off a whole new cascade of problems.
James, my husband and Dorothys son, was quiet at dinner, lost in thought. I tried to chat as usual, but his replies were flat, his mind clearly elsewhere.
When I asked what was wrong, he just reassured me everything was fine, and I let it go. I didnt connect his silence to the mornings clash with his mum. I just assumed work was stressing him out or that he had some secret he didnt want to burden me with.
A few days later, James finally brought up something else entirely. Poppy, have you ever heard of postnatal depression? It can happen even while youre pregnant, right?
Maybe, but I dont feel depressed at all, I replied. If it helps you feel better, I could see a psychiatristif you come with me and explain why you think Im showing signs of depression.
Just mum says youve gone strange, I echoed his earlier comment.
Thats what she says, I muttered, thinking back to the fight. She cant possibly recount the time I shouted at her after she dragged up her sorrowful past again, can she?
James, Ill be blunt: if anyone needs a specialist, its your mum. Do you know what she told me?
I know you two argue constantly. She thinks youre deliberately making her life miserable with advice about face masks and the wrong delivery address
What are you on about? I asked, genuinely confused by what he was trying to say.
James reminded me that a couple of weeks earlier his mum had bought the same hair mask I keep on my shelf, claiming Id recommended it. Shed used it and then accused me of steering her toward a bad product while hiding the good one that makes my hair grow thick and healthy.
What? James, you clearly dont get these womens bits and bobs, I snapped. If you understood, youd see the trap.
In a rapid threeminute spiel, I explained why Id never, ever suggest a hair mask to someone whose hair is constantly bleached and treated with harsh chemicalsshed be better off with a product for damaged strands, not the one I use for my naturally thick, chemicalfree locks.
I sent her the correct address when she needed to collect a parcel from your friend, I showed James, unlocking my phone and pulling up the chat with Dorothy.
Right. Sorry, I shouldnt have trusted mum so much. She used to be fine why did you two argue?
She started spilling all her misery again, I said, shaking my head. I get it, shes been through a lotfour miscarriages before you showed up. But she cant keep droning on about it, especially given my situation. Im not here to listen to other peoples tragedies all day.
You mean she wants to kill me, James muttered, obviously upset, and called his mum for a talk. After that, he came home and told me plainly: he wasnt going to keep any relationship with his mother.
I was relieved. Dorothy had finally become unbearable, and her attempts to smear me in front of James were uselessher eyes just didnt see me.
His relatives kept whining that hed swapped his mother for some outsider. Hed just scoff and say, My childs mother isnt an outsider. If mums to blame for everything, then ask her.
Judgement comes from the one who causes the trouble, not from whos related. Not everyone agrees with James, but his mind is set.
Now the only question is why his mother felt the need to pick a fight with a pregnant wife, but that answer can wait.
Its the classic story of a mother who cant share her son with another woman. She didnt just shareshe lost everything. Shes to blame, so theres no point dragging James and me through the mud.
At least let her see the baby, his relatives protested. Grandparents just want a grandchild to dote on in their old age, and his wayward son took that away.
Give your grandparents a grandchild then, and stop forcing your spouses into your drama, James retorted. He seemed to enjoy the backandforth with the family in the group chat.
Probably he even regrets that the relatives now have nothing to do but shoo the granny out of the conversation.
James sees clearly that his mother doesnt like him, and he finally understood why things turned out this way. He couldnt fix it, so after a couple of warnings to his family to stay out of his business, he cut off contact for good. That also meant any help from them disappeared, and finally, the loving people left his family alone.
Now little Oliver is growing up in a quiet, peaceful home. James and I do everything we can to keep that peace for as long as possible, ideally throughout his early childhood.
When school starts, well teach him to speak up and respond properly to any sticky situations.
And well have plenty to teach him, because my teeth that sprouted after pregnancy havent vanished, and James isnt exactly shy about his opinions.
Modesty these days is only useful if you want people to step on you; it doesnt get you far in practice.
I feel lucky I realised all this early enough to set things right, shake off the parasites of all kinds, and move on.
