When I went back home for Thanksgiving, I discovered that my 60-year-old mother-in-law was pregnant with her third child. After finding out, she tried to manipulate me into paying for everything and helping her out. When I finally confronted them, Blake, my husband, excused his mom, saying she’s had a hard life. His true nature as a mama’s boy was revealed. They really thought they could take advantage of me. No way. I filed for divorce, leaving my husband to live with his mom for the rest of his life. Let them figure it out. At the end of the year, Blake and I hurried back to the Whitford Family Home, with our daughter, Violet, to celebrate Thanksgiving. But the moment I saw my mother-in-law, Evelyn, something felt off. She used to be around 90 pounds, but now she looked like she had easily gained more than 20 pounds. What struck me more was how drastically her attitude toward me had changed. She warmly held my hand, looked at my eight-month-pregnant belly, and asked, “Have you been getting your prenatal checkups regularly?” I thought maybe Evelyn was finally changing her cold attitude from when I had given birth the last time. Feeling touched, I replied, “Yes, I’ve done all my prenatal checkups.” Then, Evelyn asked, “I’m curious, when women get older, do they need an amniocentesis test?” Why was she asking me this out of the blue? Just then, Violet pointed at Evelyn’s belly and asked, “Grandma, is there a baby in your belly?” I quickly glanced at Evelyn’s midsection. Sure enough, her waistline had expanded noticeably. Flustered, Evelyn said, “Oh, I’m 60 years old! There’s no baby here, I’ve just put on some weight.” I sighed in relief. But when I walked into the house, I saw baby clothes, a crib, and… prenatal vitamins. I was the only pregnant woman in the house. Colton, my brother-in-law, had a girlfriend, but she wasn’t staying with us. So, who were those baby supplies for? I didn’t want to think too much about it. That night, I told Blake about my suspicions. Blake rubbed my belly and reassured me, “That’s Mom’s stuff. Prenatal vitamins are easier to absorb, and her immune system isn’t great. She’s been drinking them to boost her health. Didn’t you notice she’s gained weight?” Even though Blake had explained it away, and I could rationalize that maybe Evelyn was giving the baby stuff to someone else, I still felt uneasy. So, I started paying closer attention to Evelyn. I saw Grant, my father-in-law, place his hand on Evelyn’s belly when he came home from work, and Evelyn would shyly look down. I noticed that when Evelyn bent down to pick things up, she unconsciously protected her stomach. Even Violet mentioned that Grandma had been eating a lot of sour foods lately. All signs pointed to the fact that Evelyn, my 60-year-old mother-in-law, was pregnant. But the whole family was keeping it from me. No one wanted to tell me. During dinner one night, I asked Evelyn, “Mom, you never used to like vinegar. Why are you eating so many sour things now?” Before Evelyn could respond, Blake interrupted, “What Mom likes to eat is her business. Why are you, as her daughter-in-law, getting so nosy?” I shot Blake a look that made him go quiet. Still, without an answer from Evelyn, I couldn’t even finish my meal. I kept asking Evelyn why she liked sour foods now. Suddenly, Grant slammed his utensils on the table. “Your mother is pregnant! So what if she didn’t tell you? It’s her right to be pregnant. Does she need your permission?” Blake tried to calm me down, saying, “You shouldn’t be upset. You’re not supposed to tell anyone in the first three months of pregnancy, and that’s why Mom kept it a secret.” So, they all knew? They all knew Evelyn was pregnant, and I was left in the dark? A 60-year-old mother-in-law and I pregnant at the same time? I would be the laughingstock of the town! But I couldn’t get mad because of my own pregnancy. I took deep breaths to calm myself. After a while, I gently said to Evelyn, “Mom, you’re not even three months in yet. Maybe it’s time to consider ending the pregnancy.” Evelyn clutched her belly and shrieked, “The baby inside me is an innocent life! Why is it okay for you to have a baby but not me?” I remained calm. “Because you can’t have this baby. You’re 60. It’s bad for your health, and frankly, it’s embarrassing to tell others.” “Plus, how are you going to raise a child? Do you and Dad have a retirement fund or pension? Blake and I are the ones paying for your vitamins and health insurance. Are we supposed to take care of this baby too?” I got a little worked up. Evelyn burst into tears, holding her belly and saying she didn’t feel well. Grant helped her up and glared at me. Grant added, “Do you think it’s easy for us to have a third child? We love kids. Why can’t we have one? And you’re just a stay-at-home mom. You get to spend Blake’s money, so why can’t we as his parents?” I was livid. I stormed off to the bedroom to calm myself, reminding myself not to get too angry for the sake of my baby. As I thought back on what Grant had said, I realized every word was an accusation. But calling me a stay-at-home mom who lived off Blake’s money? That was way off base. My family had given a generous dowry when we married, and I worked part-time to help with expenses. Half of the household costs came from me. So why did Evelyn and Grant act like I was some useless freeloader? Later that night, Blake tried to justify his parents’ behavior. “My parents have had a hard life. And you know, older folks believe that the more kids you have, the better. It makes the family lively, and more family is never a bad thing, right?” I scoffed, “Your mom’s hardships weren’t caused by me, were they? Did she have it easy before I married into this family? Am I the reason for all her struggles?” Blake fell silent. Whenever he went quiet like that, I knew he felt guilty. Before we got married, Blake would always defend me. He wouldn’t let his mom say a single bad thing about me. But after we tied the knot, every time Evelyn and I clashed, Blake would say, “My mom’s had a hard life.” Luckily, we didn’t live with his parents. Now I realize Blake was just a mama’s boy in disguise. If I had seen through him before the wedding, I never would have married him. But for my own sake, I had to stay calm. I was eight months pregnant. I couldn’t let myself get worked up. But the Whitford family wasn’t making it easy. The next day, Blake’s relatives showed up at the house, all rallying around Evelyn. One by one, they said things like, “It’s not easy for an older woman to get pregnant. This baby is a blessing from God. And having more kids makes for a livelier family.” “Exactly. When you marry into the Whitford family, you become part of the family. You should put the family first. What’s so wrong with your mother-in-law being pregnant at 60? How many women can even get pregnant at that age?” Evelyn’s relatives were acting like this was some kind of miracle and almost expected me to bow in gratitude for the blessing of a new brother- or sister-in-law. When they had finally worn themselves out, I calmly responded, “If having a baby at 60 is such a good thing, why don’t you have your mother or your daughters spend the postpartum recovery period with her?” They were speechless. But they didn’t give up that easily. They kept going on about how more kids would bring more energy and prosperity to the family. I sarcastically asked, “So am I done having babies?” At this point, Blake felt a bit embarrassed. He pulled me aside and said, “Honey, you should show some respect to the elders. That’s just basic manners.” I didn’t care what the rest of the Whitford family said, but Blake siding with them? That disgusted me. What a fool I was to marry him. But I was too pregnant to keep fighting and didn’t want to stress myself out. That night, when Blake was in the shower, I saw a notification pop up on his phone. He had transferred $2,000 to an online baby store. Curious, I snuck over to Evelyn’s bedroom and overheard her talking to Grant. “Did I order everything right online? I’ve bought so many baby supplies. Thank goodness Blake is such a good son and linked his bank card to mine. That way, it’ll be easier when I get the prenatal test and during my recovery.” Grant said with satisfaction, “That’s right. Having a good son is better than anything.” Evelyn hesitated for a moment and asked, “But what if Sloane makes a fuss about getting a divorce?” Grant replied, “Then let her divorce. We’ll be just fine as long as our family stays together. Who needs outsiders?” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. My whole body went numb. The baby in my belly must’ve sensed my distress and started kicking furiously. I rubbed my stomach to try and calm the baby down, but the kicking only grew more intense. I quickly lay down, waiting for Blake to come back and bring me some prenatal medicine. But when he returned, Blake said, “Taking too much prenatal medicine isn’t good for you. You’re just overthinking this and stressing yourself out.” I threw a pillow at Blake, shouting, “Am I overthinking things, or have you and your family been hiding all this from me? How many ‘good deeds’ have you been keeping from me?” Blake jumped up, accusing me, “You’ve been brainwashed by those online articles, haven’t you? You’re having a baby, and so is Mom. You’re younger, so you’ll recover quickly. When Mom has the baby, you can help her with the postpartum care.” He said it so seriously, like it was the most logical thing in the world. I had been shocked earlier by what I’d heard from Grant and Evelyn. But now, Blake was pushing me to my breaking point. I felt sick and dizzy, and my stomach began to hurt. I waved him off, too overwhelmed to even argue. But the next day, Blake told his mom, “Mom, don’t worry about a thing. Sloane is totally on board with you having the baby. We’ll take care of the costs and the postpartum recovery.” I didn’t agree to any of that! Blake had completely twisted what happened. I had only waved him off because I was feeling unwell. But I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. Thanksgiving was in three days, and I decided to go back to the Monroe Family Estate to recover. I’d deal with everything else after the baby was born. I called my mom, and when I told her what was happening, she immediately exploded. “Evelyn has the nerve to get pregnant? And then expects you and Blake to raise the child?” Thank goodness my mom was on my side. She assumed Blake supported me, so I didn’t bother explaining. I just asked her to come and pick me up. Luckily, I didn’t live too far from my parents. It was only a two-hour drive. That evening, my parents arrived, and I quickly packed my things to leave. But just as we were about to go, Blake and his parents blocked the door. Evelyn turned to my mom and said, “You’re a mother too. You can’t be selfish…” My mom was not one to back down. She rolled up her sleeves and snapped back, “Well, I’m pregnant too. If your son is going to take care of your baby, then my daughter will take care of mine.”
Evelyn’s face turned pale as a ghost. “You’re too old to be pregnant! Don’t you have any shame?” My mom scoffed, rolling her eyes and spitting on the ground in disgust. “I’m only a few years younger than you. You think I’m too old, but you, at 60, can still be pregnant? You’re the one without shame!” Evelyn was left speechless, her expression as sour as if she’d just eaten something rotten. Watching the scene unfold, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside me. My dad pulled Blake aside for a private talk. He had probably expected Blake to take my side, but what he didn’t expect was for Blake to say, “Sloane’s been moody during her pregnancy. I get that, it’s normal, but life’s never perfect, right?” When my dad heard Blake’s words, he realized there was no point in continuing the conversation. He walked back to the car, pulling me along with him. On the drive back, the tension in my belly worsened. The stress and anger had caused complications, and I was in serious pain. Worried, my parents rushed me to Riverview Medical Center. The doctors examined me and said I needed to be hospitalized. They warned that due to my unstable emotions, I was showing signs of a potential miscarriage. They recommended an immediate C-section to save the baby. On the first night after my surgery, Blake showed up at the hospital. The first words out of his mouth were, “Why are you picking a fight with my parents? Now the whole neighborhood is talking about what a joke they are. Sloane, you have no heart!” I was lying in a hospital bed, recovering from a C-section, and Blake had the nerve to come and berate me? The sight of him made my stomach turn. If I weren’t still healing, I swear I would’ve slapped him across the face. But my silence only made Blake think I was feeling guilty. He sneered, “You’re such a wicked woman. You have no kindness in you. It’s almost Thanksgiving, and instead of staying with your husband’s family, you ran off with your parents. Do you know how much shame you’ve brought to my parents and me?” His face was twisted with anger, and I could see the exhaustion in his eyes. It was clear he was losing sleep over the situation, but I couldn’t care less. I sat up slightly and said, “Fine, Blake, think of me as the bad guy. After I recover and give birth, we’re getting a divorce. You, your parents, and your new sibling can all live happily ever after without me. In fact, why don’t you let your mom have ten more kids? Why did you even bother getting married?” If I weren’t so physically drained, I would’ve given him a much bigger piece of my mind. Blake stared at me, dumbfounded, for a moment. Then, like a child throwing a tantrum, he pointed a finger in my face, yelling, “You’re disrespectful and ungrateful! How dare you speak to me like that!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged forward, intending to bite his finger, but before I could, Blake shoved me hard. Being so heavy with pregnancy, I lost my balance and crashed to the floor. The impact made my head spin, and I felt like I was sinking into deep water, drowning in dizziness. Through the haze, I faintly heard my mom’s desperate screams and the doctors rushing in for an emergency.
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