My husband’s family has always been quite lovely. Though his parents have a daughter of their own, they welcomed me as if I were their own child.
My mother-in-law is a wise woman indeed. In all our years, we’ve never had even the slightest quarrel—not so much as a cross word. She has a way of offering advice so gently and thoughtfully that I’ve always taken it without the faintest sting.
My husband’s sister married years ago, yet it was we who first gave his parents grandchildren. Their own daughter wished to live for herself a while longer, not yet ready for children of her own.
My in-laws adore our little ones. They dote on them with treats and gifts, doing all they can to keep them happy.
Still, my mother-in-law often says to me:
*“When will Charlotte finally give us grandchildren? It would be ever so lovely! She’s thirty now—high time she settled down.”*
Then came the happy news. Charlotte was expecting. Everyone rejoiced—even my little daughter eagerly awaited the arrival of her cousin.
But then came a moment that struck me deeply.
One afternoon, I took my son for a stroll in the park. An acquaintance stopped to chat, asking whether Charlotte had had her baby yet. I told her it would be any day now.
Then she said:
*“And how do you feel about it? You know things will be different now, don’t you? Your in-laws will have a grandchild who’s truly theirs—a ‘real’ grandchild.”*
I stared at her in surprise.
*“What on earth do you mean, ‘real’ grandchild?”*
*“Oh, come now—there’s a difference! You’ve given your mother-in-law grandchildren, but now Charlotte is giving her a child of her own.”*
Her words left me stunned. As if a daughter’s children were somehow more legitimate than a son’s! What utter nonsense.
I’m certain our bond with my in-laws won’t change once Charlotte’s baby arrives. Yet that conversation left a bitter trace in my thoughts.
Can it truly be that some grandmothers divide their grandchildren so, caring more for whose blood they share than the love they bring?
