I find it hard to call my mother-in-law “mum” despite wanting to when I got married. I was overjoyed when Jack proposed, imagining a different kind of marriage. I longed for a loving marriage like my friends’, full of mutual care and affection. I dreamed of a family where my husband would be my knight and our kids would grow up in a loving home.
When I first saw his relationship with his mother, I thought she’d raised him into the man of my dreams. But just before the wedding, his mother said something unforgettable, “Dear, there has always been only one woman in my son’s life. Remember, none will ever be more important than me.” At the time, the meaning of her words was unclear, but over time, I unfortunately understood.
Initially, his care for his mum impressed me, showing his good upbringing and their strong bond. But as time passed, I grew frustrated when he never turned her down. She’d call for the oddest things, and off he’d go, leaving me feeling invisible. Our home needed care too, but that was insignificant compared to his mother’s wishes.
Once, after picking me up from work, she called to criticize me for tiring out her son. She thought I exploited him instead of letting him rest. Sure, I could have taken the train or bus home, but as his wife, I should be his priority.
The next day, I tried discussing it with Jack, but he saw no issue. Then, his mother called wanting a trip to the countryside, and he couldn’t refuse her. Jack’s devotion to his mother was relentless, even interrupting our nights when she called with her troubles. One such time, after he’d been drinking, he called a cab to see why she couldn’t sleep. Instead of gratitude, she scolded him for drinking when he might need to help her.
Sure, he could abstain from everything, but doesn’t he deserve a normal life? His mother was ruining our marriage by claiming him as her own while I was only the wife, who should be his number one.
Thankfully, we don’t have kids, who would have realized quickly they couldn’t rely on their father with grandma as the priority. Years of feeling second-rate left me in depression, but my friend showed the most understanding, realizing the insidious nature of the illness. I longed for Jack’s support, but he stayed wrapped up in his mother’s life.
Regretfully, I failed to be what his mother was to him, though I tried hard. It’s a shame Jack never saw my efforts. His affection for his mum overshadowed everything; his declarations of love to me were just words, a formality of marriage.
I never wanted perfection, simply genuine affection. A good husband doesn’t need to organize clothes by a ruler like Jack, he can socialize with friends. But Jack was raised as the perfect son.
I now understand he’ll never be the man I imagined. We’ve no children, he feared being overwhelmed with home duties, taking time from his mother.
Jack cared for his mother like no one else. Accepting I’ll never come first, I decided to find someone who’ll love me wholeheartedly. I’m expecting a little boy who’ll make me his world.
I vowed to raise him into a responsible man who’ll someday build a family and bring joy to his wife.
