For as long as I can remember, I always grew up with my mother. I only heard from my father on the phone and received some money from him until I was of age, but my mother was the one who raised me. She didn’t dare to try her luck a second time, devoting her life to raising me. We lived modestly, but quite well, and then after university and my marriage a housing problem arose.
My husband was from a family with many children, they had constant quarrels with their relatives about their parents’ apartment, which they could not divide. Even after it was sold, my husband got pennies from it, which we multiplied with the help of my mother and bought a car for the family, although in fact only my husband had rights and drove it.
At first the three of us lived in our two-room apartment and everything was fine, although my husband occasionally made it clear that he was not very comfortable living with his mother-in-law, that she was eavesdropping or did things she was not asking for and was “prying” into our family life. I didn’t feel that way. I had lived my whole life with my mother and I was very comfortable living with her – while I worked, she cleaned and cooked.
After the news of my pregnancy, my husband’s lewd attitude escalated. He purposely brought up at dinner the subject of where we should set up the nursery when there were only two rooms in the apartment. I tried to stop him from hurting my mother, but when I wasn’t at work, my husband said his piece anyway. I didn’t know it yet, I came home and my mom was gone.
– She must have gone to the store,” my husband muttered dismissively.
We waited until dinner, but I couldn’t stop worrying. My questions about my mother had gotten to my husband so bad that he blurted out mean things he’d said to her, saying we’d have a better life without her and that she took up too much space.
I didn’t expect that from him at all. We were living normally, in a cramped space, but the news of a future child had such an effect on him…
Before it was too late, I ran to call and look for my mother. She and I met in the park outside the house where she was wandering around, afraid to go home. I hugged her and comforted her, telling her not to take her son-in-law’s words to heart. He’s not out of spite, he’s just worried about the future. And this way we’ll figure something out.
When I got home, when I had calmed down, I threatened my husband that one more stunt like that and he would be the one to make room in the apartment. Even though I am pregnant, it doesn’t mean that I am helpless and dependent on anyone. On the contrary, he is dependent on my mom’s apartment, and he should be grateful that he has a place to live and doesn’t have to pay a lot of money for rent. As they say, it would be a desire to change something on his part, and since he is happy with his mother’s apartment, his mother-in-law should also be happy.
