“Why I’m Not Obliged to Care for My Mother-in-Law in Her Old Age”
“I won’t lift a finger to help my mother-in-law, and she shouldn’t even dream of it!” Anna declares bitterly, her voice shaking with years of pent-up resentment. “That woman has no right to expect my support. In the seventeen years I’ve been married to her son, she’s never once lifted a finger to help us—not with money, not with anything. Worse, I’ve never heard a single kind word from her! She always insisted she owed no one anything. Now I see she was right. But I owe her nothing either!”
Anna shares her story from the snug but modest flat she calls home in a small northern English town. She has two teenage sons and a mortgage she and her husband have been battling like an unrelenting foe. Anna is certain: without her own mother’s help, they’d never have managed. Her mum never gave them money, but she took charge of the grandchildren—dropping them at nursery, sitting with them through illnesses, picking them up from school, helping with homework, driving them to football practice, and feeding them. Thanks to her, Anna and her husband could focus on work without the distractions of daily chores.
All these years, they’ve worked tirelessly to pay off the mortgage and secure a future for their boys. Anna remembers how hard it was juggling work and raising children, especially when they were little. Without her mother, she says, their family would’ve crumbled. “If not for Mum, we’d have nothing,” Anna sighs. “With two kids, I’d never have been able to work the way I did.”
And her mother-in-law? All this time, she’s lived solely for herself. She only saw the grandchildren at the odd family gathering, and even then, barely spared them a glance. There was always something more important—trips with friends, her own affairs. Anna swallowed her pride a few times, asking if she’d mind watching the children, but each request was met with a cold refusal. “I raised my son alone, and you’ll manage too,” her mother-in-law said sharply. “Don’t expect my help.” After a few tries, Anna stopped asking. Why humiliate herself when the answer was always no?
“My mum practically raised my kids!” Anna says warmly. “I’ll never stop being grateful for that. If she ever needs help, my husband and I will do everything we can. But with his mother? It’s different. Yes, she’s his mum, and maybe some moral code says we owe her something. But there’s no bond between us, no warmth. She chose this distance.”
Anna falls silent, gazing out the window at the first snowflakes of winter. Her eyes hold pain, but also resolve. She wonders: what does her mother-in-law expect? Does she really believe old age will spare her? That she’ll stay strong and independent forever? Anna shakes her head, as if dispelling the thought. “Life’s a boomerang,” she murmurs. “You reap what you sow. Love, respect, help—you have to earn them. And she never even tried.”
Yet deep down, Anna feels torn. Should she rise above the hurt? Despite years of indifference, does she still owe her mother-in-law the same care she’d give her own mum? After all, old age comes for everyone, and perhaps duty to her husband’s family means letting go of the past. Or should everyone face the consequences of their choices? Maybe there’s no right answer. But one thing’s clear: family ties test us, forcing us to walk the tightrope between duty and fairness.
What do you think? Should Anna grit her teeth and help her mother-in-law, despite years of coldness? Or is it fair that we get what we give? Life has a way of settling debts—but who decides how they’re paid?
