*”Youve become so hideous, youre definitely having a girl,”* my mother-in-law used to say to me.
Whenever others complained about in-law troubles, I never believed them. My husbands parents were fineprobably because we moved 200 miles away almost immediately after the wedding.
I barely had time to get acquainted with my new “mum.” We stayed at their place for a week after the reception, and everything was perfectly civil. Then we moved, and my husband, being in the military, was stationed elsewhere.
We lived there for ten years. Then, just like that, he got transferred back to his hometown. Not exactly thrilling newsId settled in nicely, we had a lovely house, and I was expecting our third child. But there was nothing for it.
I gave birth back in his hometown. A year later, I was pregnant againunplanned, unprepared, but since wed always wanted a big family, we rolled with it. During the pregnancy, my “mum” came over to *help*. Shed drop by now and then, but instead of lifting a finger, shed sip tea and dole out unsolicited advice.
I could ignore the odd comment about housekeeping, but when she started lecturing me on raising children, I nearly boiled over. It was bafflingthis woman barely knew me, hadnt seen me in a decade, and only knew her grandchildren from photos. And yet, here she was, dictating how I should parent.
Then, in my eighth month, she announced, *”Youre definitely having a girl!”*
We *were* hoping for a girlafter three boys, who wouldnt? So I smiled sweetly and asked, *”What makes you say that?”*
*”Youve aged terribly. Youre all puffyyour face is swollen. The girls stolen what little beauty you had left.”*
*”Oh, lovely. I swell up in every pregnancy, you know.”*
*”Not like this.”*
*”And how would you know? Youve only seen photos.”*
*”Dont argue with me. I had a son, and I was radianteveryone said so. You? You look frightful. Like a bloated sponge. And your feet wont even fit in slippers anymore.”*
I said nothing. I didnt mention that my *age* (39) might have something to do with itnot the babys gender. Shed had my husband at 19, when youth still forgives everything. Shed called me ugly more times than I could count. Eventually, my husband put a stop to it.
And, as luck would have it, we had *another* son.
