When I first found out I was pregnant, I felt like the happiest person in the world. Bill and I had dreamed about this for so long, imagining the day we’d finally hold our baby in our arms.

But I wasn’t the only one waiting for this child. Bill’s mother, Jessica, had been waiting too—only in a way that made my life unbearable.

She had never liked me, never even pretended to. From the very beginning, she made it clear that I wasn’t good enough for her son.

“Bill deserves someone better,” she would say, shaking her head whenever I was around.

But the moment she found out I was pregnant, everything changed. And not in a good way.

It was as if the baby belonged to her, not me. She insisted on being involved in everything.

“You need me to come with you to the doctor,” she’d say, already grabbing her coat before I could protest.

“I know what’s best.”

When we started preparing for the baby, she took over completely. She picked out furniture, dismissed my choices, and even declared, “The nursery should be blue. You’ll have a boy.”

My pregnancy was already miserable. I had constant nausea, barely able to eat.

But Jessica didn’t care. She would come over, fill the house with the smell of greasy food, and smile as Bill enjoyed her cooking.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in the bathroom, sick to my stomach.I couldn’t take it anymore. I told Bill to stop sharing any details with her.

But somehow, when we arrived at the clinic for the ultrasound—the one where we’d find out the baby’s gender—Jessica was already there, sitting in the waiting room like she belonged. I froze. How did she even know?

“It’s a girl,” the doctor said.

I squeezed Bill’s hand, my heart pounding. We had dreamed of this moment.

A daughter. A beautiful little girl. I turned to Bill, expecting him to share my excitement.

His face lit up with joy. But then I saw Jessica. Her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You couldn’t even give my son a boy,” she sneered. “He needed an heir.”

I stared at her, my hands tightening into fists. “An heir to what? His video game collection?” My voice came out sharper than I intended. “And just so you know, the father determines the baby’s gender, not the mother.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “That’s a lie,” she snapped. “Your body is the problem! You aren’t strong enough. You were never right for my son.”

The doctor cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly. A nurse glanced at me with sympathy. I forced myself to stay calm, rubbing my temples. “Let’s go, Bill,” I muttered.

Once we were in the car, I turned to him. “How did she find out about the appointment?”

Bill avoided my eyes. “I told her.”

Anger bubbled inside me. “I asked you not to! She stresses me out too much!”

“She’s the grandmother,” he said.

I shook my head. “And I’m your wife! I’m carrying our daughter! Don’t you care how I feel?”

“Just ignore her,” Bill said.

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one being attacked. He wasn’t the one feeling completely alone. My own husband wouldn’t protect me.

When labor started, pain crashed over me like a wave. My vision blurred. My body trembled. It was too soon.

The contractions hit hard and fast, each one stealing my breath. Bill rushed me to the hospital, barely making it in time.