When my mother-in-law, Melissa, came to help with my colicky baby while Peter was away, I thought I’d get a break. But what happened left me questioning her intentions, my instincts as a mother, and even my marriage.
I sank into the couch, too exhausted to move, as Emily’s cries echoed from the nursery.
Three months in, and I was still struggling. How did others care for a colicky baby on little sleep and still seem fine?
Peter had called earlier.
“How are my girls?”
“We’re surviving,” I laughed weakly, bouncing Emily. “You’re lucky you’re away and not stuck here with this little tyrant.”
He chuckled. “You’re doing great. Mom can come over tomorrow to help. You need rest.”
I wasn’t thrilled about Melissa’s help, but the thought of sleep was tempting.
“Fine,” I said. “But she can’t stay too long.”
The next day, Melissa showed up at noon, carrying a casserole. “You look pale. Are you eating enough?” she asked, like I hadn’t figured that out myself.
She took Emily from me and said, “Go lie down. You need rest.”
As I headed to the bedroom, I heard her muttering, “Babies today are so coddled.”
I woke to Emily’s piercing cry. My phone and the baby monitor were both gone. Panicked, I rushed to her room. She was crying, unattended.
I grabbed the diaper bag, changing her as I wondered where Melissa had gone. I found her outside, laughing on the phone.
“What the heck?” I muttered, storming out. “Why was Emily crying while you were out here?”
Melissa explained she’d answered my phone, not wanting to disturb me, but I was furious.
“You left her alone for thirty-seven minutes?” I demanded. “You unplugged the monitor and took my phone. Why?”
She shrugged, dismissing it. “Crying doesn’t hurt babies. Honestly, Alicia, you’re overreacting.”
I couldn’t believe her. “You need to leave,” I said, cutting her off. “And don’t come back unless Peter’s home.”
That night, I debated if I overreacted, but the sound of Emily’s cries replayed in my mind. No, I did the right thing.
When Peter came home, I told him what happened. “She left Emily alone while talking on the phone!” I explained.
Peter defended his mom. “She came to help. You didn’t have to kick her out.”
“But she ignored our daughter!” I shot back.
Peter sighed. “She was trying to help, Alicia. And now, thanks to you, she feels unwelcome.”
I turned away, frustrated. As I lay in bed that night, I questioned if I’d burned a bridge, but my instinct said I did the right thing for Emily.
Was I wrong?
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