**Diary Entry**
Last week, my little girl turned two. A small celebration, just close family—except her father, my ex-husband, never even called. Not a message, nothing. But his mum, my former mother-in-law, rang ahead. Said she wanted to stop by to wish Sophie a happy birthday. I didn’t see the harm in it. She came with a gift—a stuffed bunny, some biscuits, and an envelope with a bit of cash. We took Sophie to the park, had a little stroll. But when we got back… that’s when the nightmare began.
Mum saw me with Eleanor Ashworth and absolutely lost it. Ranted that I’d humiliated the family, that I had no shame, no self-respect. How could I let that woman near my child? Said I should’ve thrown her “pathetic gifts” back in her face and slammed the door.
She even picked apart what Eleanor brought—cheap toy, too much sugar, could’ve given more money if she *really* cared. Went on and on all night. Said I was practically grovelling to the woman who once kicked me out with nothing.
It’s been a year since the divorce. James was never cut out for family life. The second things got hard—sleepless nights, nappies, bills—he walked. Said it was easier without us. Packed his bags in silence. The flat was in his mother’s name, so I had no rights. Just… out.
At the time, I couldn’t even process it. Like someone pulled the plug. Where was I supposed to go?
Her solicitor handled the divorce. No assets to split—everything was in his parents’ names. Even the child support is a joke. I didn’t have the fight in me to take it further. Too tired.
All I asked was to stay in that flat until my maternity leave ended. Didn’t want to move back with Mum—she’s difficult at the best of times. But Eleanor refused. “You’re not the first wife, love, and you won’t be the last. This isn’t a hotel.”
Still, she did help me move. Hired movers, packed my things, even had them dropped at Mum’s. Told me to take whatever I needed, but I only took what was mine. Didn’t want to owe her a thing.
Eight months now—me, Sophie, and Mum squeezed into a tiny flat. The child support barely covers nappies. James and his family act like we don’t exist. Except Eleanor. She checks in now and then.
I didn’t want drama. That’s why I chose neutral ground—the park. Knew Mum would hate it, but hoped she’d understand. No such luck.
She didn’t just disapprove. Nearly threw me out. Called me a traitor. “If you’re so chummy with them, go live there instead.” Said I’m raising Sophie to be weak, just like me. That they walked all over me, and now I’m rolling out the red carpet for his mother.
But Eleanor didn’t *have* to reach out. That counts for something, doesn’t it?
Mum won’t budge. To her, it’s simple: they’re the enemy. No contact, no gifts, no kindness. But I wanted Sophie to know she’s loved—even by the other side.
Now I’m trapped. Cutting off her grandmother feels wrong. But fighting with Mum isn’t an option either. I’m alone with a toddler, no safety net. Terrified. And so, so tired of being caught in the middle.
All I want is for my daughter to grow up in peace—not in some endless battle between stubborn women.
