A controlling woman kicks her daughter-in-law out of the house with her newborn child, only to find herself in appalling conditions years later.
Abbie and Jonathan were married for three years when they welcomed their son, Timothy. They lived in Austin, Texas, with Jonathan’s mother, Susan, who wasn’t the worst by all accounts but wasn’t the best either.
Susan’s problem was that she wanted total control over everything, especially Jonathan’s life. To her relief, she was always successful since Jonathan was a “mama’s boy” who never went against her.
However, things began to change when Abbie came into Jonathan’s life. He began to devote a significant percentage of his attention to her, making Susan believe that Abbie was pulling him away from her.
Eventually, Abbie got the impression that Susan despised her, so she advised Jonathan that they move out. But he politely declined, saying, “Oh darling, come on! You know how mom is! She may seem harsh on the outside, but she is soft on the inside. She adores you just as much as she adores me.”
But Abbie knew that wasn’t the case, and her worst fears proved true one day…
Mrs. Norris wasn’t supportive of Abbie and Jonathan’s relationship. | Source: Pexels
“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE WITH THAT BABY!” Susan yelled at Abbie as she and Jonathan returned from the hospital following Timothy’s birth. She didn’t even go to the hospital for Abbie’s delivery because she despised her. And once Abbie was home, she already had a brilliant plan to get rid of her “pathetic” daughter-in-law.
“Susan, what’s the matter?” Abbie stared at her, bewildered. She didn’t understand why the woman would say something like that to her.
“Good Lord! Susan?” she whispered in disbelief on seeing her mother-in-law in such a terrible condition.
“What’s the matter with me?” she retorted. “That boy is not my son’s blood! He looks nothing like my son!” she lied, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Susan!” Abbie yelled back, teary-eyed. “How could you say such a thing? He’s your grandson…Jonathan,” she said, turning to her husband. “Why aren’t you saying anything? You know he’s—”
Before Abbie could finish, Susan cut her off. “Stop bewitching my son with those crocodile tears of yours! You’ve already wrecked his life. Pack your things and get lost!” she repeated and grabbed Jonathan’s arm, pulling him to her side.
Mrs. Norris ordered Abbie to leave the house. | Source: Pexels
“Jonathan….” Abbie looked at him with hopeful eyes, but he didn’t utter a word. Instead, he stood by his mother’s side and lowered his head in shame.
Abbie couldn’t believe Jonathan didn’t say anything to his mother, even if it meant losing his son! She realized whatever was happening to her was probably the worst thing she’d ever faced, but she reasoned it was probably for the best if she moved away from the toxicity. So she packed her belongings and left Susan’s home to live with her parents.
Several years went by and Abbie had raised Timothy on her own, giving him the finest of everything. Fortunately, she also healed from the pain of her toxic marriage with Jonathan and took the first step towards divorce and a happy life with her son as a single mother.
A few years after the divorce, she found love again when she crossed paths with a man named Edward at Timothy’s school. He was a widower with a daughter, Caroline. He and Abbie fell in love and got married.
Abbie felt her life was complete after marrying Edward. She had a wonderful family, an excellent job, two beautiful children, and a devoted husband. She never thought about the horrific past again until something unexpected happened one day…
Abbie took a drastic step and became a single mom. | Source: Pexels
After dropping Caroline and Timothy off at school, Abbie was on her way to work when she noticed an elderly woman dumpster diving for food.
“Good Lord!” she sighed as she came to a halt and glanced at the woman. “What misery did she go through to have to eat from a dumpster?”
Abbie reached into her handbag for cash and got out of the car to offer it to the woman. But as she got closer, something about the woman’s filthy clothes made her stop.
She recognized the woman’s coat and immediately came to a halt in the middle of the street until a car blew its horn, interrupting her thoughts. When the homeless woman turned around to face her, Abbie’s suspicions were confirmed.
“Good Lord! Susan?” she whispered in disbelief on seeing her mother-in-law in such a terrible condition. “Susan, what happened to you? What are you doing here?” she asked worriedly as she dashed over to her.
Mrs. Norris was looking through trash for food. | Source: Shutterstock
With tears in her eyes, the older woman stared at her. “Abbie? Forgive me for what I did, sweetheart,” she pleaded, bursting into tears. “Please forgive me! I’m starving! I haven’t eaten in days….” She fell at Abbie’s feet and wouldn’t stop crying.
Abbie never liked Susan, but she wasn’t so heartless that she would leave her like that on the streets. So she took a day off from work and accompanied the older woman to a restaurant.
As Susan finished eating, Abbie gently asked, “Susan, how did you end up like this? Where’s Jonathan?”
“All I can say is I paid for my sins, sweetheart,” she sighed, teary-eyed. “I lost everything I had. My Jonathan is no longer with me. He left me alone, and I was so miserable after that….”
Susan wouldn’t stop crying as she revealed that Jonathan was returning home from work one day when he was attacked and robbed by some hooligans. He tried to fight back, but he eventually succumbed to the injuries and died before reaching the hospital.
Jonathan’s death left Mrs. Norris miserable. | Source: Pexels
After the terrible accident, Susan almost lost her mind. Every night, she would sit for hours on her son’s bed, clutching his things and crying. She didn’t want to do anything or interact with anyone. She eventually gave up on life and began roaming the streets.
“I still have the house, but it’s so empty without him. It comes back to bite me when I go back there. I don’t want to be there. I want to run away from all the bad memories…All the bad things I did to you, oh, I regret them so much. Will you please forgive me? I beg of you!” she pleaded, trembling.
Seeing Susan’s dreadful situation, Abbie knew she had already had her fair share of suffering for her wrongdoings, so softening her heart for the older woman, she decided to let go of the past and forgive her.
“It’s all right, Susan,” she said. “I don’t have anything against you or Jonathan. In fact, I’m happy I went on with my life because I now have a beautiful husband and two wonderful children.”
Susan was surprised. “You remarried?”
Abbie was happy with her married life. | Source: Pexels
“Yes! And I am very happy with my life now,” Abbie replied, smiling.
Susan felt a tinge of jealousy, and she dropped her head in shame. But Abbie forgave her and decided to help her out, so Abbie started visiting her home and helping her around the house once in a while.
She also told Edward everything, and he was very sympathetic and supportive. Leaving the horrific past behind them, they now often invite Susan to their home and spend time with her so that she does not feel alone.
What can we learn from this story?
- One day, everyone pays the price for their wrongdoings. Susan ruined Abbie and Jonathan’s relationship and paid the price for it when she found herself all alone.
- Good things always happen to good people. Though Abbie’s divorce from Jonathan was devastating, it ultimately resulted in a much happier life for her and Timothy.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a mom who asks her old neighbor to babysit her children only to return home and find them missing.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
My MIL Demanded I Give Her a Key to Our House Because ‘That’s What Good DILs Do’
When my mother-in-law demanded a key to our home, claiming, “That’s what good daughters-in-law do,” I realized she had no concept of boundaries. So, I came up with a plan that would teach her what privacy actually means, without destroying our relationship in the process.
There’s something uniquely challenging about loving someone whose mother thinks her son’s marriage certificate includes her name, too.
My husband Josh is wonderful. His mother, Diane? Let’s just say she missed the memo that umbilical cords are cut at birth.
A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Diane is the kind of woman who’ll greet you with a big, genuine smile and do everything to make you feel comfortable. When you first meet her, you’re instantly charmed. She remembers your coffee order after hearing it once. She sends thoughtful birthday cards with handwritten notes.
She’s the kind of woman you’d want to be friends with because she’s what you call a “girl’s girl.” She’s the kind of woman who’s always there for her loved ones. She’s kind. Nice. Caring.
But when it comes to her son? She’s a whole new person.
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“Josh always loved my chicken pot pie recipe,” she’d announce while rearranging the dishes in our kitchen cabinet. “You should really learn to make it properly.”
She is one of those women who thinks being a “boy mom” gives her permanent access to her son’s entire existence. And by extension, mine too.
I met Josh at the marketing firm where we both worked. He was the quiet creative director who surprised me with his dry humor during late-night campaign preparations.
A man working in his office | Source: Pexels
After our third coffee break that somehow stretched into dinner, I knew he was special. Six months later, we were engaged, and I was happier than I’d ever been.
“You proposed already?” Diane had said when Josh called to share the news. I was sitting right beside him and heard her voice clear as day through the phone. “Don’t you think that’s a bit rushed? Remember what happened with Sarah from college?”
Josh just laughed it off.
“Mom, this is different,” he said. “Kiara is different.”
A man using his phone | Source: Pexels
I should have known then what I was in for, but love has a way of making red flags look like regular flags caught in a romantic breeze.
The real trouble started when I got pregnant, barely a year into our marriage. What should have been the happiest time became an exercise in boundary-setting.
“You’re carrying too low. It’s definitely a boy,” Diane would declare, placing her hands on my belly without asking. “Josh was carried exactly the same way.”
When I opted for a gender reveal party and discovered we were having a girl, Diane’s smile froze.
A woman with wide eyes | Source: Midjourney
“Well,” she said, sipping her champagne, “Men in our family usually have boys first. Must be your family’s influence.”
Then came the unsolicited advice about everything from what I should eat (“No spicy food, it’ll give the baby colic!”) to how I should sleep (“Never on your right side, it restricts blood flow!”).
None of it backed by medical science, all of it delivered with the confidence of someone who believed raising one child 40 years ago made her an expert.
When Josh and I moved into our first home, she visited the following week without asking.
A woman standing in her son’s house | Source: Midjourney
I opened the door in a robe, mascara under my eyes, and our colicky three-month-old daughter on my hip. The house was a mess with dishes piled in the sink and baby clothes scattered across the living room. I hadn’t showered in two days.
“Oh, I figured you’d be home,” she said, brushing past me into our entryway. “I brought my own cleaner. This place needs some real help.”
That should’ve been my warning.
A vacuum cleaner | Source: Pexels
Since then, Diane’s boundary-crossing became a regular feature in our lives. Like the time she rearranged our living room furniture while we were at work.
“The feng shui was all wrong,” she explained when I came home to find my reading nook completely dismantled. “This arrangement brings better energy for the baby.”
Josh just shrugged when I complained later.
“That’s just Mom being Mom,” he said, as if that explained everything.
A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
Then there was the time she tossed out all the “unhealthy” snacks from our pantry. My secret stash of chocolate-covered pretzels, the spicy chips I’d been craving since pregnancy, and even Josh’s protein bars. All gone.
“You’ll thank me later,” she insisted. “Processed food is basically poison.”
But the final straw? Walking in on me breastfeeding in our bedroom.
“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said, barely pausing as she placed fresh towels in our en-suite bathroom. “I’ve seen it all before.”
A woman standing in her son’s bedroom | Source: Midjourney
I clutched the nursing cover tighter, feeling violated in what should have been my most private moment.
“Diane,” I said, “I’d appreciate a knock next time.”
She looked puzzled, as if the concept was entirely foreign to her. “We’re all family here,” she replied breezily.
It was too much.
A month ago, at our regular Sunday brunch, she dropped it casually between bites of lemon scone.
A tray of scones | Source: Pexels
“I’ll need a key to your house,” she announced, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “That’s what good daughters-in-law do, you know.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. The audacity of the request (read: the demand) left me speechless for a moment.
“Excuse me?” I finally managed.
“For emergencies,” she explained, as if I were slow to understand a perfectly reasonable request. “For when I drop things off. For being part of the family.” She reached across the table to pat my hand. “It’s not like I’d misuse it.”
A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Josh looked at me. I looked at him. He wisely shoved another bite of scone into his mouth and stayed out of it.
But Diane? She wouldn’t let it go.
“Every woman in my bridge group has access to her grandkids and her son’s house,” she continued, stirring another sugar cube into her already-sweet tea. “Phyllis even has her own bedroom at her son’s place. Is there something you’re hiding from me?”
The question hung in the air between us.
A close-up shot of a woman’s eye | Source: Midjourney
What was I hiding?
Only my sanity. My autonomy. My right to live in my own home without wondering if my mother-in-law might appear at any moment to critique my housekeeping, parenting, or the way I loaded the dishwasher.
On the drive home, Josh finally spoke.
“Maybe we should just give her a key,” he suggested tentatively. “It might make life easier.”
I stared out the window, watching suburban houses blur past, each one a sanctuary I suddenly envied.
The view from a car driving on a road | Source: Pexels
“Easier for whom?” I asked quietly.
He had no answer.
***
After weeks of texts asking, “Have you made a copy yet?” and phone calls reminding me how “normal families share keys,” Diane finally wore us down.
Or rather, she wore Josh down, and by extension, me.
“It’s just easier to give her what she wants,” Josh sighed one night after his mother’s third call that day. “You know how she gets.”
I did know. And that’s when we came up with an idea.
The following weekend, at our usual Sunday brunch, I handed Diane a small gift box with a ribbon on top.
A gift box | Source: Midjourney
Inside, nestled on a bed of tissue paper, lay a shiny brass key.
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up as she lifted it out. She looked smug. Triumphant. Like she’d won something.
“This is what good DILs do,” she said, pocketing it like a trophy. “You won’t regret this, Kiara.”
But I knew better.
Fast forward to the following weekend.
Josh and I were out on a rare brunch date, enjoying our eggs benedict and mimosas, when my phone buzzed with a Ring camera alert.
A phone on a table | Source: Midjourney
There she was. At our front door. Key in hand. Trying to unlock it.
Jiggle. Twist. Try again. Nothing.
She bent down, inspecting the doorknob. Looked confused. Then annoyed. She tried again, more forcefully this time, as if the lock might yield to her determination.
I answered through the camera, sipping my coffee.
“Everything okay, Diane?”
She squinted into the lens, startled.
“The key’s not working,” she huffed. “Did you give me the wrong one?”
A key in a keyhole | Source: Pexels
I smiled, meeting Josh’s supportive gaze across the table before answering.
“Nope. It’s the key to Josh’s old bedroom at your house. You know, the one you used to walk into without knocking? That was your space. But this house? This life? It’s ours. No unannounced visits anymore.”
She didn’t respond. Just stared for a moment, mouth slightly open, and then walked back to her car with rigid shoulders.
Later that evening, Josh texted her.
“We’re happy to have you visit, Mom. But from now on, visits are by invitation, not surprise entry.”
A person texting | Source: Pexels
She didn’t reply for a few days.
The silence was new territory in our relationship with Diane. She had always been quick with responses.
I didn’t text her. I didn’t call her. I wanted to give her time to understand what she’d done and what we wanted from her.
And that worked.
When she finally called Josh the following Wednesday, her tone was different. He put the call on speaker so I could hear.
A man holding his phone | Source: Midjourney
“I’ve been thinking,” she said, her voice lacking its usual authority. “I may have overstepped.”
Coming from Diane, this was practically a full confession and apology.
“I just worry about you,” she continued. “And the baby. I want to be involved.”
“You can be involved, Mom,” Josh said gently. “Just on our terms.”
When she came over for dinner that Friday, after texting to ask if the time worked for us, she brought a homemade chocolate cake and a small gift.
A chocolate cake | Source: Pexels
“It’s a doorbell,” she said with a small smile. “For when I visit.”
And when she needed to use the bathroom? She knocked on my bedroom door before entering.
Isn’t that amazing? I was shocked but also happy to see she’d finally learned her lesson.
That night, after she left, Josh put his arm around me on the couch.
“That was kind of brilliant,” he admitted. “The key switch.”
I leaned into him, relieved. “I guess you’re never too old to start learning about boundaries.”
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