When Emma’s mother-in-law moved in “to help with the baby,” she quickly took over instead, criticizing Emma’s every move, mocking her to friends, and even replacing Emma and Thomas’s wedding photo with her own. Emma stayed quiet… but she wouldn’t stay powerless for long.
Baby Stacey’s cries came in gasping, hiccupped bursts. I bounced her gently in my arms, pacing slow circles around the nursery rug while Margaret stood behind me, radiating disapproval.
“She’s overtired. You missed her window again.”
I didn’t look back. Couldn’t. If I turned around and saw that pinched expression one more time, I might say something we’d all regret.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Amomama
“She just needs to be held a little longer,” I said, keeping my voice soft but firm.
Margaret clicked her tongue, a sharp little sound she made whenever the world failed to meet her exacting standards.
“You know, when Thomas was this age, I had him sleeping through the night by eight weeks. Routine is everything.”
My jaw clenched as I pressed my cheek to Stacey’s downy head.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Amomama
Margaret’s voice lowered, feigning the kind of concern that feels more like criticism wrapped in velvet.
“And that diaper bin smells ripe. I noticed it yesterday, dear. That sort of thing builds up bacteria.”
“I’ll take it out tonight,” I said through gritted teeth.
Margaret picked up a spit-up cloth from the glider and held it out between two pinched fingers like it might contaminate her.
