But when I became pregnant, everything got worse.
Instead of celebrating the news of her first grandchild, my mother-in-law seemed to see my pregnancy as an opportunity to undermine me. She asked my husband intrusive questions: Was he sure the baby was his? Had he checked the timing?
She made sly comments at family dinners that “nine months is a long time to keep a secret.” She even joked — in that way people joke when they want to be cruel but hide it behind a smile — that the baby might come out looking like our next-door neighbor.
I tried to ignore it for my husband’s sake. I thought that once she saw her grandchild, she’d soften. I wanted to believe that when she held the baby, all her doubts and bitterness would melt away.
