Being 27 and taking care of a three-year-old, a baby, and a loving but sometimes distracted spouse is like trying to balance a ballet on a thin rope. My 36-year-old spouse, Alex, has been my unwavering companion through our joint upheaval. After seven happy years of marriage, we just celebrated the birth of our son Sam, who was born just two weeks ago.
After almost ten years together, our relationship took an unexpected turn last week. Since her second spouse had caused her much pain, Kathy, Alex’s mother, turned to Alex for support in her weakness. Alex invited her to stay with us without asking me first. I repressed my first reservations since, after all, family should help one another in times of need.
That was my first thinking, until Kathy’s short visit started to seem like a permanent inconvenience. During Christmas get-togethers, Kathy freely shared her parenting convictions, which she has always been outspoken about. Nevertheless, putting up with her critiques on a regular basis made them unbearable.
Kathy was always criticizing my practices, especially the way I took care of Sam. Kathy thought my use of formula was almost criminal, even though I’ve come to grips with the fact that I struggle to breastfeed owing to poor milk production after many consultations with our physician. She made disparaging remarks about “squandered money” and compared her parenting style to mine, which made me feel uneasy in my own house.
She wasn’t only critical of feeding. Kathy called my rapid dinner preparations for our daughter Lily sluggish and said that my style of holding Sam was pampering him. She would begin her lectures with the phrase “Back in my day,” rejecting the pediatrician’s counsel and claiming to be an expert on parenting.
There was a noticeable tension in our house. Alex tried to arbitrate, but because he was having trouble juggling his allegiances, he frequently made me feel even more alone. Every day I was more and more afraid of Kathy’s never-ending criticism.
It reached its breaking point yesterday night.
Dinnertime became a war zone as a result of the heated, quiet conflicts going on at home. I made the straightforward plea for relief, asking Alex to spend a few minutes by herself in the shower as I felt overwhelmed by the never-ending pressure and tiredness.
Any dream of tranquility was ripped to pieces by Kathy’s stern reply. She said that I was unfairly burdening Alex by expecting him to temporarily assume a parental role, calling me gold-digging and lazy. The last straw was her implication that I was treating Alex like a babysitter.
I had begged Alex to deal with Kathy’s poisonous behavior against me and our relationship at home. At first, his maternal loyalty made him stand up for her. Nonetheless, he grudgingly consented to talk to her after realizing how much stress her presence caused me. I clung to optimism, thinking that united, we could conquer this.
The most agonizing way possible was that hope dashed. I discovered Alex’s side of the bed to be vacant when I woke up in the middle of the night. I followed a shiver of fear to the kitchen, where I paused to listen in on a conversation that would shatter any last shred of trust.
“Listen, mom, I’ll rent you an apartment and sell some of my wife’s jewelry tomorrow, okay?Alex’s voice, which used to reassure me, suddenly seemed foreign.
Kathy’s response further twisted the knife. She spoils your child, and you know how to put up with her. Has no regard for you whatsoever. I’m not only telling her this information for kicks. I wish for your happiness.
I approached them with tears flowing down my face, reeling at the treachery. I had Kathy leave our house right away. It was too late for Alex to save her. Not only were Kathy’s hurtful remarks devastating to me, but Alex’s complicity in her plots also did.
I exploded, overwhelmed with rage and weeks’ worth of unreleased resentment, saying, “Go back to your own house!My voice bounced from our walls, a sharp contrast to the warmth it typically exuded. “Reflect on your own parenting!”
Alex took Kathy’s side, not his own. He sided with her to say, “You can’t do that to my own MIL,” in opposition to me. His remarks seemed like a betrayal, as though protecting my honor at home amounted to cruelty.
We got into a heated, noisy, and increasingly escalating debate. “She can stay with her three other children!I let out a cry, my voice cracking. How could a husband allow his mother to abuse his wife in this manner?”
The house finally broke down; Kathy and Alex departed, the shutting door signaling the final conclusion of our argument. I felt so alone in the reverberating quiet.
I felt abandoned, so I went to my mother and sister, who I thought were the only people who could help me. Their return added some warmth to the house, which was a stark contrast to the chilly atmosphere following Alex and Kathy’s departure. We sat down in the living room, me telling you the whole story, my voice cracking as I described the horrific incidents.
They provided me with unwavering support, their very presence softening the edges of my harsh feelings. Still, I was not sure what would happen to me and Alex in the future, even with their consoling presence. After a betrayal like this, how could our relationship ever be repaired?
The emptiness of our house became increasingly apparent as the night went on, serving as a constant reminder of the mayhem that had occurred. With no solutions, there was simply a great deal of ambiguity, which made the future seem extremely difficult.
My family came together for me after Alex passed away, and their acts served to confirm their support. Motivated by a fierce sense of protectiveness, my mother collected up Alex’s possessions and set them outside, a blatant indication of boundaries broken. My dad came on board, encouraging us through what seemed like an overwhelming betrayal.
Unexpected sources of assistance also surfaced. My in-laws offered consolation during this turbulent period by expressing their disappointment in Alex and Kathy.
We spoke about my next moves, and it became apparent that I would have to start again without Alex. Seeking legal advice from a divorce attorney appeared to be essential in order to protect my children and myself from the poisonous environment that had crept into our house.
Surrounded by the constant love of my family, I thought about what lay ahead. Even though I had to make some difficult choices, having them around let me realize how resilient I was. It would be a lengthy road to recovery and reconstruction, but I was prepared to go step by step.
In my shoes, how would you have handled things? Tell us on Facebook!