I don’t trust my son’s mother-in-law. My husband says I’m obsessed with the baby.
In a quiet little town like Cheltenham, in a cosy flat on the outskirts, a proper family storm was brewing. Emily, a 25-year-old new mum, stood by her baby’s crib, feeling everything inside her bubble up with exhaustion and frustration. Her story was the cry of a woman torn between motherhood, being a wife, and the weight of family expectations.
“My husband and I had a massive row,” Emily says, wiping tired eyes. “Okay, I’m not perfect, but I’m responsible for our son! Oliver’s been so fussy lately—probably teething. I’ve been carrying him around all day, didn’t even have time to make soup.”
Little kids are a test not everyone understands. But her husband, James, doesn’t seem to see it.
“He came home from work and started shouting that he’s starving!” Her voice shakes with anger. “And then he had a go at me for not greeting him at the door. I was rocking Oliver to sleep! I barely dared to breathe so he wouldn’t wake up. How was I supposed to meet James with a smile?”
James doesn’t get what it’s like to be a mum to a newborn. Emily’s done it all—baby care, the house, cooking. And him? He “provides for the family” and expects a spotless home, a hot dinner, and comfort, like she’s some sort of superhero who can split herself in three.
Emily tried her best to be the perfect wife, mum, and homemaker. But the baby’s never settled, needing her every second, and sometimes she doesn’t even have time to wipe the floors, let alone cook three meals a day. Her parents live too far away to help, working full-time. And things with her mother-in-law, Margaret, are as tense as a tightrope.
“Margaret never liked our wedding,” Emily admits bitterly. “Thought we were too young, not ready for marriage. Really, she just didn’t want to let her ‘Jimmy’ go. Said we’d split in a year. But we’re still here. Though… sometimes I wonder for how long.”
After Oliver was born, Emily tried mending things with Margaret. The ice seemed to crack—she even smiled a couple of times, bought him a rattle. But they’re miles away from anything warm.
“And then James tells me I’m obsessed with the baby!” Emily fights back tears. “Says I only care about Oliver and never have time for him. He wants us to go to the shopping centre on Saturday and leave Oliver with his mum.”
Emily’s never left Oliver with anyone. He’s breastfed, attached to her like thread to a needle. Margaret’s seen him maybe three times—how’s she supposed to manage? But James wouldn’t budge.
“My mum raised four kids!” he snapped. “She knows what she’s doing. More than you, anyway.”
He even bought a breast pump so she could leave milk, but the thing is, Oliver won’t take a bottle. Cries, turns away, like he knows it’s not her.
James gave her an ultimatum—agree to leave Oliver with his mum, or he’d kick off. Margaret, for her part, doesn’t mind babysitting for a bit. But Emily can’t shake the worry.
“I don’t trust her,” she admits. “Not because she’s bad. Just… he’s my baby. My Oliver. What if he cries? What if she doesn’t get what he needs?”
James insists they need time alone.
“We’re not just parents—we’re still husband and wife!” he threw at her mid-argument. “Or have you forgotten what that’s like?”
That stung. She loves him, but his digs feel unfair. She’s up all night feeding, rocking, changing nappies—doing it all alone. And he wants romance, cosiness, smiles, like she’s a machine, not a person.
Now Emily’s stuck—give in to James, swallowing her fear, or stand her ground and risk another fight? Her heart’s split in two. She’s scared for Oliver, but their marriage is cracking.
“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, watching Oliver sleep. “If I say no, James’ll say I don’t appreciate him. If I say yes… could I live with myself if something happened to Oliver?”
What should she do? Push down the fear and trust Margaret? Or fight to stay with her baby, even if it means another row? Maybe she’s overreacting. Or maybe that fear is just a mum’s gut—and you ignore that at your own risk.
