Just Mum says youve become odd, she muttered, rolling her eyes.
I remembered the fresh argument with my motherinlaw, Margaret. Could she really have been going on about how Id snapped at her after she dredged up her tragic past again? Probably for the hundredth time.
Margaret, could we change the subject? I said politely but firmly.
Margaret, who had just launched into another longwinded tale of her early miscarriages, choked on a breath and stared at me with bewilderment.
Elsie, Im only trying to support you, she protested.
Thanks, but I dont need support from someone whose empathy is about as useful as a stale biscuit.
Did you just call me stupid? tears welled up in Margarets eyes.
On any other day I would have tried to smooth things over, maybe slipped out with a fabricated work call or a meeting Id completely forgotten. Id have invented any excuse to escape Margarets endless lamentations about her past. But grief is a strange beast, especially the kind that rewires a whole body during pregnancy.
By the fifth month of my pregnancy, the gentle, patient woman I once was had hardened into someone who rolls up her sleeves and asks, Wheres the horse and the cottage, like in the old stories? before marching off to fix whatever she deems fixable.
What should I call you, when youve already told me a hundred times you dont want to hear about your failed parenting? I snapped.
You see, a friend of mine is a highfunctioning autistic. He can start dancing in a shop or miss a joke, yet even he knows that bringing up a womans pregnancy woes is the height of idiocy.
So Im not only a nag, Im an idiot too? Thats how you treat me, just because Ive been kind? I retorted, slamming the front door behind me. I exhaled, inhaled, and smiled, satisfied with myself.
I hoped that would give Margaret a few weeks peace, maybe forever. But hope never held up; that mornings spat only opened the floodgates for more trouble.
James, my husband and Margarets son, sat quietly at dinner, lost in thought. I tried the usual small talk, but his answers were monosyllabic, his mind clearly elsewhere.
When I pressed, he only reassured me that everything was fine, and I let the conversation drop. I never linked his silence to the argument with his mother. I simply assumed work was weighing him down, or perhaps something else he didnt want to burden me with.
A few days later he finally spoke up, changing the subject entirely. Elsie, have you ever heard of postnatal depression? It can affect pregnant women too, right?
Maybe its not exactly postnatal, but I dont think Im depressed, am I?
Honestly, Id see a psychiatrist for your peace of mind, but only if youd come with me and explain why you think I look depressed.
Just Mum says youve become odd, he repeated, echoing my earlier words.
I snapped back, Oh, Mum says?
Again the memory of that argument rose. Could Margaret have been recounting how Id shouted at her after she brought up her sorrowful past again? Likely a hundredth time.
James, lets be clear: if anyone needs a specialist, its your mum. Do you know what she told me?
I know you two argue constantly. She thinks youre deliberately making her life miserable with advice about beauty masks and missent parcels.
What are you on about? I asked, genuinely confused.
James reminded me that a couple of weeks earlier, his mother bought the same hair mask Id been using and claimed Id suggested it to her.
She used the mask and now thinks I insulted her by recommending a bad one, while hiding the good one that makes my hair grow so thick, he explained.
What? James, youre completely missing the point of these womens gadgets. If you understood, youd see the trick.
In three minutes I explained that my hair, never dyed with ammonia or straightened, grew naturally thick, so I could never have recommended a mask meant for healthy hair to a woman who constantly bleaches and treats her locks with harsh chemicalswhat they now call bioperm but which still ravages hair health.
I even sent her the correct address when she needed to collect a parcel from your friend. I still have the message thread, I unlocked my phone and showed James the conversation.
Alright, I get it. Sorry, I shouldnt have trusted Mums word. She used to be reasonable. What did you two argue about?
She started telling me about her past I understand shes suffered grief, four times over, before I came along, but you cant keep rehashing it, especially given my own situation. Im not a therapist for her woes.
You mean she wants to kill me, James muttered, apparently ready to confront his mother. After that, he returned home and declared that any relationship with Margaret was over.
I was relieved. Her relentless, erratic behaviour had finally worn me out, and shed even tried to smear me in front of James.
Jamess relatives kept accusing him of swapping his mother for an outsider. He merely snorted, saying his childs mother wasnt an outsider; if Mum was to blame for everything, then she should be held accountable.
They judged based on who caused the trouble, not on blood ties. Not everyone agreed with James, but his mind was made up.
Now the only question is why his mother felt the need to turn him against his pregnant wife. The answer will come in due time.
Its the classic tale of a mother who cant share her son with another woman. She didnt just lose a share; she lost the whole lot, and shes to blame. No point in blaming James and me any longer.
At least let her see the baby, the relatives protested. Grandmothers only get joy from spoiling their grandchildren in old age, and youve taken that away.
Give your grandchildren a proper grandmother, not one who forces herself onto your spouses. Lets see how long your strong marriages last, James shot back.
He seemed to enjoy the backandforth in the family chat, perhaps even regretting that his relatives now had no choice but to keep mum about caring for their own elderly.
James had clearly seen how little his mother liked him, and he finally understood why things had gone awry. He couldnt fix it, so after a few pointed remarks to his relatives, he cut off contact completely.
With that, any help they might have offered vanished, leaving his family alone.
Now their little boy grows up in quiet peace. James and I do everything we can to keep that tranquility for as long as possible, preferably throughout his early childhood.
When he heads to school, well teach him how to talk and how to answer those clingon types properly.
Hell have plenty to learn, because even after pregnancy, my teeth havent vanished, and James isnt exactly modest either.
Modesty these days only helps you get a lift from strangers; it has little practical use.
Im glad I realised all this early, before it was too late to shed the parasites of all sorts that had latched onto our lives.
