I thought I would finally get a much-needed respite when my mother-in-law, Melissa, came over to help with my colicky baby while my husband was gone. However, the events of those few hours caused me to doubt my marriage, my maternal instincts, and even her intentions.
Emily’s gentle sobs echoed from the nursery, a sound that tugged at my heart as I sank into the couch, utterly drained. My body felt like lead, too weary to respond right away.
I still couldn’t wrap my head around how people managed it all after three months. How did they stay put together while caring for a colicky baby and surviving on just two hours of sleep at a time?
My shirt was a mosaic of spit-up stains, and my hair? Well, it had been untouched by a brush for two days. Earlier, Peter had called.
“How are my girls?” he’d asked, his voice filled with warmth.
“We’re surviving,” I answered, bouncing Emily gently on my shoulder, trying to muster a laugh despite the exhaustion. “You’re lucky you’re out there on the road and not stuck here with this little tyrant.”
He chuckled. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie. Just sleep when you can. Mom mentioned she might stop by tomorrow. Let her help, okay? You need a break.”
Peter was always that person. He didn’t always give me the answers I wanted, but he never left me hanging.
I didn’t have the smoothest relationship with Melissa. She had a way of making me feel like I was constantly being judged, but she wasn’t cruel, not exactly.
But the allure of a peaceful, uninterrupted nap was too tempting to resist.
“Fine,” I relented. “But she can’t stay too long.”
“Thanks, babe,” Peter replied. “I’ll let her know. You’ll have one less thing to worry about—she’s also making dinner.”
As promised, Melissa arrived right on time the next day at noon. She walked in with a tote bag slung over her shoulder and a casserole dish in hand.
“Hi, Melissa,” I greeted her, shifting Emily around in my arms.
“Oh, Alicia,” she said, her tone taking on that familiar, almost disapproving edge. “You look absolutely drained. Have you been eating enough? You know, you can’t pour from an empty cup.”
I managed a weak smile. “I’m trying,” I replied. “It’s just been a lot.”
Melissa’s bangles clinked as she reached out to take Emily from my arms.
“It certainly has. But parenthood is like that,” she said with a knowing nod. “You should’ve seen Peter when he was a newborn. He cried for hours. But I never let myself get this worn out.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue, even if I’d wanted to. Instead, I handed her Emily and muttered, “Well, I appreciate you being here.”
“Of course,” she said with a smile, gently rocking Emily in her arms. “That’s what family’s for. Now, go lie down. You look like you could fall asleep standing up.”
I told her, “She might fuss a little since she just ate.” I gestured to the baby monitor in the nursery and added, “My phone is charging in the bedroom if you need me.”
Melissa flashed me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve raised three children. I think I can handle my granddaughter for a few hours.”
Her tone, though meant to be comforting, made my stomach tighten. I nodded and walked toward the bedroom. As I passed, I heard her mutter, “Babies today are so coddled.” That remark only added to my unease. Never had I felt more concerned for my child.
I was jolted awake by Emily’s piercing scream. My heart raced as I fumbled to grab my phone, but it wasn’t on the nightstand where I had left it. Panic surged through me. The baby monitor’s screen was dark.
Without wasting a second, I threw the sheets off and dashed to Emily’s room. My heart sank when I saw her, still crying in her crib, alone.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” I whispered, scooping her into my arms. The frantic urgency in her cries broke me.
As I cradled her, it hit me—Melissa hadn’t even changed Emily’s diaper. My mind raced. Where was my phone? Why hadn’t Melissa checked on her? I grabbed the diaper bag from the corner, scrambling for a fresh diaper and wipes, questions flooding my mind.
Why hadn’t she come in to see how Emily was doing? What on earth had happened?
I carried Emily with me, settling her as best I could before I started searching the house. The kitchen was empty, and so was the living room.
Then, I saw it—a flicker of movement outside the kitchen window. It was her.
Melissa.
She was standing outside, phone pressed to her ear, laughing. What was going on? I couldn’t make sense of it.
I quickly returned Emily to her crib and whispered, “I’ll be right back, baby,” placing her favorite plush toy beside her. She shouldn’t have to hear this.
With my heart pounding, I rushed to the back door and flung it open.
“Melissa!” I called out, my voice sharper than I intended.
She jumped, nearly dropping the phone. “Alicia, oh! You’re awake.”
“Why was my daughter crying while you’re out here on the phone?” I demanded. “And why do you have my phone?”
Melissa took a deep breath, as though it were the most logical thing in the world.
“I was talking to Peter,” she said, as though explaining something obvious. “I answered your phone when he called. I didn’t want to wake you, so I took it outside.”
“And you unplugged the baby monitor too, didn’t you?” My frustration boiled over.
Melissa sighed like she was the one being unreasonable. I knew she wasn’t going to take responsibility.
“Yes, I unplugged it,” she admitted, not a trace of remorse. “You needed to sleep. I thought she might wake you with her crying, but when I went outside, she wasn’t crying anymore.”
“How long have you been on the phone?” I pressed again, feeling the tension rise. Melissa glanced at her screen and nonchalantly replied, “Thirty-seven minutes.” It felt like a punch to the gut.
Thirty-seven minutes? That’s over half an hour. She gave her thirty-seven minutes to herself?
“You left her alone for thirty-seven minutes? Are you aware of what that means? When I picked her up, she was crying.” I couldn’t hold back my disbelief anymore.
Melissa’s response was defensive, almost dismissive. “She wasn’t crying the whole time,” she said, “and crying doesn’t harm infants. I think you’re overreacting, Alicia. You should be thankful that I’m here at all.”
Thankful? Was she serious?
“Thankful? Melissa, you were supposed to be helping me, not taking my phone and ignoring my daughter!” I was nearly shaking with frustration. “You left Emily in there, unplugged the monitor, and took my phone. How long would you have stayed out here on the phone if I hadn’t woken up?”
The conversation was spiraling, but I couldn’t stop it. Each point I made seemed to fall on deaf ears, and I had to make sense of the whole situation in my mind. First, she had been on the phone for over half an hour—completely ignoring my baby. Second, she had taken my phone and the monitor, leaving me with no way of knowing what was going on with Emily. Lastly, she kept minimizing what she did instead of owning up to it.
I had to keep my cool and break this down with her, step by step, because the way she was spinning this wasn’t helping anyone.
Melissa crossed her arms, her face hardening. “Alicia, you’re exaggerating. Relax.”
“I’m not,” I shot back, my voice steady despite the rising heat inside me. “You know what? You need to leave. Now.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“I heard you. I said, leave. I don’t think you’re capable of taking care of Emily.”
She sputtered in surprise. “You’re not serious. After everything I’ve done for you—”
“Leave,” I cut her off, my tone final. “And don’t come back unless Peter is home.”
The air between us crackled with tension as Melissa snatched up her handbag and stormed out, muttering under her breath, the words too soft to make out.
I stood there for a moment, the silence settling heavily around me. Then I turned and walked inside, the weight of the situation pressing down. I picked up Emily from her crib, and for a brief moment, I let myself breathe again as I saw her tiny hands reach for me, her familiar toy nestled in her arms.
“Mommy’s back, my love,” I whispered softly, holding her close as she snuggled against me. Her little breaths, slow and steady, were the only thing grounding me in the chaos of my emotions.
As I sat there, the images of Emily’s cries replaying in my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder—Was I overreacting?
After all, Melissa was Peter’s mother. She had raised three children, didn’t she know what she was doing? But then, I thought of those long, lonely minutes when Emily had been left crying, unheard. My gut told me it was wrong. I couldn’t shake the image of her distress. No, I wasn’t overreacting. I was protecting my daughter, and I wasn’t going to let anyone jeopardize that.
No, I firmly told myself. I made the right decision.
But as I rocked Emily to sleep that night, a subtle fear began to creep into my chest. What would Peter say when he found out what had happened? Would he understand? Would he be angry with me?
The next night, Peter returned home, and the tightness in my stomach only worsened. Emily was content, bouncing on my knee in the living room, but I knew that we needed to have the conversation. As soon as I saw him, I could feel the weight of everything pressing down on me.
He walked in with a soft smile. “Hey, babe,” he murmured, leaning in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “How are my girls?”
I forced a smile, though it felt fragile and weak. “We’re all right. We’re all right, but Emily’s been a little picky today.”
He didn’t seem to notice anything was off as he reached for Emily and gently pulled her from my arms.
“Hey, princess,” he cooed, his voice soft. “Daddy’s home.”
For a fleeting moment, I almost let it go. I nearly forgot about everything that had happened just 24 hours before—almost. But then, as I watched the joy on Peter’s face when Emily grasped his finger, the anger I had buried deep inside surged to the surface once again. It felt like it was bubbling up from within, threatening to spill over.
Nearly. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was coming. “Peter,” I said, my voice firm. “We need to talk about your mom.”
His brow furrowed, and he glanced up from Emily, sensing the tension in my tone. “What about her?”
“She came over yesterday to help, but things didn’t go the way I expected.” I hesitated for a moment, then continued, “She said she was going to watch Emily and make dinner so I could rest.”
Peter nodded, seemingly in agreement, before I added, “That’s what I thought, too. But she unplugged the baby monitor, took my phone outside, and left Emily in her crib for over thirty minutes while she talked to you.”
His eyes narrowed as he processed the information. “She told me she answered your phone because you were asleep and didn’t want to disturb you.”
I shook my head, the frustration building. “Peter, she didn’t just answer it. She left our daughter completely unsupervised and took my phone outside. Emily was crying when I woke up, and your mother was laughing on the phone.”
He let out a long, heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alicia, she didn’t mean any harm. She was just trying to help you get some rest. You’ve been complaining about how tired you are for weeks—”
His words trailed off, but I could already tell he was trying to justify his mother’s actions, as if her intentions could somehow erase the worry that had gripped me the moment I realized Emily had been left alone.
“And you think this helped?” I cut him off, my voice sharp. “She took my phone and unplugged the monitor. How exactly did this ‘help,’ in your opinion?”
Peter’s tone softened as he countered, “But you didn’t have to kick her out!”
“Peter, how can you defend her after knowing what she did?” I demanded, my frustration spilling over.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “She came to help us, Alicia. She cared about you and Emily. She didn’t have to come over, but she did. Now, because of you, she feels like she’s not welcome here anymore.”
“Are you serious?” I felt my heart pound in my chest. “Her feelings are more important to you than what she did?”
Peter’s voice took on a defensive edge. “I’m just saying you could’ve handled it better. The whole situation makes her feel foolish enough already. If she never offers to help again, don’t be shocked.”
The words caught in my throat. What was the point? I knew he wouldn’t agree with me—not about this, not about Melissa. He never did.
“Fine,” I muttered, turning away from him. The weight of the conversation settled heavily on my chest.
Peter sighed, settling beside Emily and gently rocking her in his arms. I watched him for a while, a growing distance between us that I couldn’t ignore.
Later, as I lay in bed, the argument replayed over and over in my mind. Maybe I could’ve handled it differently. Maybe I was wrong to tell Melissa to leave.
But each time I thought about it, my resolve only grew stronger. I couldn’t shake the image of her, laughing on the phone, while my baby was left alone and crying.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, the weight of my decisions pressing down on me. My heart ached with uncertainty. Had I overreacted? Was I too harsh in asking Melissa to leave? I knew one thing for sure: my daughter deserved better. But that certainty didn’t make the doubt go away.
Would I regret this? The thought gnawed at me, leaving me restless. I tried to reassure myself that I was doing what was best for Emily, that I was protecting her. But then I remembered Peter’s disappointed eyes, the tension between us growing. What if, in trying to protect her, I had caused irreparable damage to a relationship that meant something to him?
I didn’t have the answers. All I could do was hold onto the belief that I had acted with her safety in mind. But deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder—was I mistaken?
