**Diary Entry – 15th October**
My name is Thomas. Just an ordinary bloke caught between a rock and a hard place—my wife, Charlotte, and my own mother. Everything changed after our daughter was born. It turned my life upside down and made me question everything about my marriage. And honestly, I don’t know how to fix it.
Mum has always been… difficult. Never one to respect boundaries, she’s forever meddling in my life like it’s her right. Why? Because I’m her favourite—her only son. In her eyes, no one could ever care for me the way she does. Not even my wife.
Charlotte and I have been together five years now. She’s clever, level-headed, stubborn when she needs to be, but fair. From the start, Mum despised her. Everything about Charlotte annoyed her—the way she spoke, cooked, even how she laughed. I brushed it off as jealousy, but looking back, maybe that’s where the trouble really began.
Three weeks ago, Charlotte gave birth to our little girl. It wasn’t an easy delivery, and she took time to recover. When Mum found out labour had started, she threw a fit, demanding to be in the delivery room. Charlotte refused—she didn’t even want her own mother there, let alone mine.
Mum made a scene right there in the hospital corridor, screaming, crying, accusing everyone of denying her rights as a grandmother.
After we came home, Charlotte, despite everything, let my parents visit—on one condition: Mum had to keep her opinions to herself. She swore she would. But the moment she stepped through the door, it all went pear-shaped.
*”Good grief, what’s this mess in the garden? Do you live in a pigsty?”* she started. *”Charlotte, have you no shame? You’re a mother now! Couldn’t you even mop the floors before guests arrived?”*
Charlotte just listened, silent, then said coolly, *”Don’t come back. Ever.”*
After that, everyone visited—relatives from both sides, even Dad. Everyone except Mum. Charlotte didn’t miss her for a second. We had our own little world, just the three of us.
Then, one day, Charlotte went for a check-up, leaving me with the baby. I felt bad for Mum—she just wanted to see her granddaughter. What harm could two hours do? So, I invited her over.
She arrived in minutes. I warned her—two hours, no more. Of course, she ignored that. Two and a half hours later, Charlotte walked in to find Mum cradling our daughter.
What happened next… I wish it never had.
Charlotte exploded. She screamed, sobbed, snatched our baby from Mum’s arms. Told her to get out. Mum started defending herself, I stepped in—I lost it.
*”You didn’t make this baby alone!”* I shouted. *”She’s my daughter too! I get a say in who sees her! You don’t get to throw my mother out!”*
*”Then both of you, leave!”* Charlotte screamed back. *”Now!”*
She shoved us out the door. Me. And my mother. Told me not to come back.
Now I’m at my parents’ place. Dad says nothing. Mum hisses about Charlotte daily. And I don’t know what to do. I miss my daughter. I miss my home. I know I messed up. But Charlotte overreacted too, didn’t she?
How do you choose between two women who only see one right answer—themselves?
Maybe someone out there can tell me—who’s really at fault here? Or have I lost the family I worked so hard to build?
