When my mother-in-law, Melissa, came over to help with my colicky baby while my husband was away, I thought I’d finally get a much-needed break. But what happened during those few hours left me questioning her intentions, my instincts as a mother, and even my marriage.
I sank into the couch while Emily’s faint cries echoed from the nursery. I didn’t even have the energy to respond right away.
Three months in, and I still wasn’t sure how people did this. How did they care for a colicky baby, sleep two hours at a time, and still look like they had it all together?
My hair hadn’t seen a brush in two days, and my shirt was a patchwork of spit-up stains.
“We’re surviving,” I said with a weak laugh, bouncing Emily on my shoulder. “You’re lucky you’re on the road and not stuck here with this little tyrant.”
He chuckled. “You’re doing great, babe. You just need to rest. Mom said she could come over tomorrow. Let her help, okay? You need a break.”
That’s Peter. Always quick with solutions, even if they weren’t exactly what I wanted to hear.
Melissa and I didn’t have the warmest relationship. It wasn’t that she was mean, but she had this way of making me feel like I was constantly on trial.
Still, the thought of an uninterrupted nap was tempting.
“Fine,” I relented. “But she can’t stay too long.”
“Thanks, babe,” he said. “I’ll let her know. She’s making dinner too, so you’ll have one less thing to worry about.”
The next day, Melissa arrived promptly at noon with a casserole and tote bag.
“Hi, Melissa,” I greeted her, shifting Emily.
She looked at me, her voice cool. “You look pale. Are you eating enough? You can’t pour from an empty cup.”
