“How could you let your ex-mother-in-law see your daughter? Have you no pride at all?”
Last week, my little girl turned two. We had a small celebration with just a few close people. Her father, my ex-husband, didn’t even remember her birthday—no call, no message, nothing. But his mother, my former mother-in-law, rang ahead. She said she’d like to come and wish the little one happy birthday. I thought, what’s the harm? She showed up with a gift—a stuffed toy, some sweets, and an envelope with cash. We went to the park, had a walk. Then we came home… and that’s when the nightmare began, says 30-year-old Emily with despair.
What happened?
My mum saw me with Valerie Palmer and completely lost it. Started shouting that I’d humiliated the family, that I had no shame, no pride. How could I let my ex-mother-in-law come and hug my child? She said I should’ve thrown that “pathetic gift” back in her face and kicked her out.
She seriously complained about the gift?
Yes! Said the toy was cheap, the chocolates were bad for her, and she could’ve given more money. She went on about it all night! Accused me of practically throwing myself at my ex-mother-in-law. That she was a “rotten grandmother,” and I’d nearly let her into the house. As if she’d forgotten how that woman once kicked me out without a penny.
Emily divorced a year ago. Her husband wasn’t cut out for family life. When things got tough—sleepless nights, the baby crying, money running short—he just gave up. Thought it’d be easier, cheaper, and quieter to live without a wife and child. Packed his things and left without a word. The flat was in his mother’s name, so Emily was simply told to go.
I didn’t even understand what was happening at the time. Like someone had turned the lights off. Where was I supposed to go? What was I supposed to do? I was in shock.
Her mother-in-law’s solicitor handled the divorce. Not that there was much to divide—the flat and car were in his parents’ names, and he owned nothing officially. Even the child support he pays is barely enough. Emily didn’t have the heart or energy to fight for more in court. She was too exhausted, too broken.
I only asked for one thing—to stay in that flat until my maternity leave ended. I didn’t want to go back to my mum’s; she’s… difficult, hard to live with. But Valerie Palmer refused. Said I wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last daughter-in-law. That her home wasn’t a hotel.
Still, before I left, she helped with the move—hired movers, packed my things, even dropped them at my mum’s place. Said I could take whatever I needed, but I only took what was mine. Didn’t want anyone throwing it back in my face later.
Eight months on, she and her little girl are squeezed into a tiny one-bed flat with her mother. The child support barely covers nappies. Neither her father nor his family care about the child—no calls, no messages. Only Valerie Palmer, the ex-mother-in-law, asks about the girl sometimes.
I didn’t want a fight. That’s why I agreed to meet her on neutral ground—the park, Emily sighs. I knew Mum would be against it, but I hoped she’d understand. Wishful thinking.
She didn’t just get upset. She nearly threw me out. Called me a traitor. Said if I was so soft, I might as well go live with my ex-mother-in-law. Said I couldn’t raise my daughter right because I’d no spine, no pride. That they’d walked all over me, and now I was rolling out the red carpet for their grandmother.
Emily, but Valerie didn’t have to call. She made an effort, didn’t she?
That’s what I thought. But Mum won’t budge. To her, things are black and white. If they’re the enemy, then no contact. No gifts. No walks. But I wanted my daughter to have a bond with people who care about her, even if it’s from the other side.
Now Emily’s terrified of another scene. The grandmother who once helped is now the worst enemy. Her mother demands a clean break from the past. And Emily’s stuck between what’s right and what’s necessary.
What am I supposed to do? Cut my child off from her other grandmother—is that right? But fighting with Mum isn’t an option either. I’m already alone with a toddler and no support. I’m scared. But I’m tired of being caught in the middle. I just want my daughter to grow up in peace, not in some endless war between grown women.
