I thought the hardest part of giving birth would be the contractions. I was wrong. Nothing prepared me for the moment my mother-in-law decided she had more right to be in that delivery room than my own mother…
all because of money.
My name’s Selena, and I’m 27 years old.
When I was 39 weeks pregnant with my first baby, I thought I had everything planned out: My mom, Daisy, would be there with me.
So would my husband, Aaron.
Those were the two people I needed most in the world.
My mom has always been my person.
Through every doctor’s appointment during my pregnancy, every bout of morning sickness, and every frantic 3 a.m.
Google search about whether what I was feeling was normal, she was there.
“You’re going to be an amazing mother, darling,” she told me one afternoon, her hand resting on my swollen belly.
“And I can’t wait to meet this little one.”
“I want you there when she comes,” I said.
“You and Aaron.
Nobody else.”
She smiled, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away!”
I should’ve known better than to think it would be that simple.
Gloria, my mother-in-law, has always had opinions about everything.
She’s the kind of woman who walks into a room and immediately starts rearranging things because it’s not the way she would’ve done it.
When we told her I was pregnant, she immediately started making plans.
She wasn’t bothered about what I wanted.
She just started making decisions.
“I’ve signed you up for the prenatal classes at Memorial Hospital,” she announced during Sunday dinner.
“They’re the best in the state.
I’ve already paid for the private birthing suite too.”
“Gloria, that’s really generous,” I started, “but we haven’t decided where we’re delivering yet.”
“Well, of course you’re delivering at Memorial.
I’ve taken care of everything.”
I caught my mom’s eye across the table.
She gave me a small smile that said, “Just let it go.”
So I did. I thanked Gloria and told myself it didn’t matter where the baby was born as long as she was healthy.
But it did matter.
Because Gloria’s gifts always came with strings attached.
My water broke at 2 a.m.
on a Tuesday.
We called my mom on the way to the hospital.
She met us in the parking lot, still in her pajamas with a coat thrown over them.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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