At eight months pregnant, I thought my biggest challenges would be swollen feet, sleepless nights, and learning how to swaddle. I never imagined that my husband would give away our baby’s nursery to his mother. What started as a “temporary arrangement” quickly unraveled into something much deeper — and the truth I uncovered shook me to my core.
For months, my husband Evan and I poured love into that nursery. I picked a soft sage green for the walls, hand-painted tiny white clouds above the crib, and even though my back ached, I pushed through because I pictured our baby sleeping peacefully in that little room. The day we built the crib, Evan placed his hand on my belly with tears in his eyes. “Our little family,” he whispered. That moment felt sacred.
So when I came home from a doctor’s appointment to find the nursery transformed into a guest room for my mother-in-law Lydia, I was stunned. The rocking chair was gone, replaced by her bed and floral comforter. Her jewelry box sat on the changing table as if it had always belonged there.
“Don’t you love what we’ve done with the space?” she smiled.
The words stung. This wasn’t a guest room. This was our baby’s room.
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