My husband gave away our baby’s nursery to his mom because she was “lonely and depressed.” I was shattered. Then I passed the nursery that night and overheard what my mother-in-law had really been planning behind my back. She was more cunning than I ever realized.
For the past two months, my husband and I poured ourselves into our baby’s nursery like it was a second heartbeat. I painted the walls this soft, earthy sage green. I even hand-stenciled these cute little clouds that looked like they were floating just above the crib.
My back screamed but I wanted our baby to dream under something beautiful. When we finished the crib assembly, Evan teared up. “Our little family,” he whispered.
I should’ve recorded that moment…
for evidence. My phone buzzed one Thursday while I was at the clinic for my routine check-up. It was a text from Evan:
“Can we talk when you get home?
Mom’s not doing great.”
I came home to find Evan pacing our kitchen like a caged animal. “Okay, so here’s the thing,” he started, not making eye contact. “Mom called Dr.
Wills. She’s been feeling lonely and depressed. He strongly recommended that she stay close to family for a while.”
I set down my purse.
“How close?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about.” His hands fidgeted with the keys, his phone, and even the salt shaker. “I thought maybe she could use the nursery temporarily. Just until she stabilizes.”
“Come again?”
“Think about it logically,” he said, gaining confidence in his stupidity.
“Babies don’t sleep in cribs for months anyway. We can put a bassinet in our room. Mom needs comfort, and she’d be right here if we needed help.”
“You want to put your mother in OUR baby’s room?”
“Temporarily!
She’s already… here.”
I walked past him down the hall and turned the nursery door handle with shaking hands. A queen-size bed sat where our rocking chair used to be. My MIL Lydia’s floral comforter spread across it like a disease.
Her jewelry box squatted on the changing table. She looked up from unpacking, her phone pressed to her ear. “Oh, she’s here!
Gotta go, Susan.” She hung up, beaming. “Anna! Don’t you love what we’ve done with the space?”
“Where’s the crib, Lydia?” My voice came out strangled.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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