When Mila’s in-laws kicked her out of the house with her newborn, she was devastated. Little did they know that their actions would come back to haunt them in ways they never imagined.
Hey everyone, Mila here! Being a busy mom to a one-year-old keeps me on my toes, but it’s nothing compared to the shock I recently had. Have you ever wondered how it would feel if your in-laws kicked you out of the house with your newborn? Because let me tell you, that’s what happened to me…
So here’s the thing. Living with my husband Adam’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, seemed like a sweet idea at first. You know, the whole “big happy family” thing. Turns out, sweetening a cactus doesn’t make it any less prickly.
Their daily arguments were set like clockwork. Every. Day.
They always started over the stupidest things, like the TV remote. My darling mother-in-law wanted her nightly soap operas, while my ever-enthusiastic father-in-law needed his baseball fix.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t escalate into arguments that could wake the dead, not to mention a cranky newborn.
Honestly, I didn’t pay attention to it most of the time. But with little Tommy finally asleep after a rough night, the screaming started again.
I was furious. Here I was, rocking Tommy back to sleep for the hundredth time, and they were downstairs going at it like toddlers on a bucket of Legos. Finally, I snapped.
I stormed downstairs, ready to unleash my inner mama bear. But before I could launch into a lecture, I saw them sprawled out on the couch, as quiet as cucumbers between their screaming sessions.
“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm, “just so you know, the baby’s sleeping.”
“What’s your point?” Mr. Anderson replied, barely looking up from the television.
“What I mean,” I said, my voice rising despite my efforts to remain calm, “is that your screaming wakes him up.”
“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Anderson interjected, rolling her eyes. “Babies have to get used to the noise.”
“I think we can talk quietly,” I said, trying to keep my cool. “Just for tonight.”
A Young Woman Looking Extremely Frustrated | Source: Freepik
Mrs. Anderson scoffed, “You know, Mila, when Adam was a baby, he used to sleep all the time. Maybe Tommy just needs to toughen up.”
I bit my tongue. “Maybe. But right now, he’s just a baby who needs to sleep.”
Then, I turned on my heel and headed back upstairs. A few seconds later, I heard Mr. Anderson’s booming voice burst forth.
“How dare she?!” he yelled, his voice laced with venom. And then some really “mean” words rang out that I can’t share here, but I hope you understand the kind of things he said.
Then, he stormed into my room, not even having the basic decency to knock.
“Just so you know, you don’t shut me up in my own house. This is MY HOUSE. I gave my son the money to buy it, so you don’t get to tell me what to do.” If you think you’re so smart, then take the baby and go live with your mother in a comfortable, quiet place. Maybe when my son gets back from his business trip, he’ll think about letting you back in.”
Ugh. Did he really just call this HIS HOME? And the tone?
My blood pressure shot up, but I held my tongue. Maybe he was just angry and wouldn’t think so in the morning.
Morning came and the hope I was clinging to vanished faster than a free doughnut at the office. I found my mother-in-law in the kitchen, humming along to the radio as if nothing had happened.
“Hey, Mom,” I began, hoping for a glimmer of remorse. “About what Dad said yesterday…”
She cut me off with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “Honey,” she chirped, “my husband’s right. It’s his house, after all. You know, boundaries and all that.”
“Boundaries?” I repeated, incredulous. “Like the line between a grown woman and wanting a peaceful home for her child?”
“Well, Mila, there are certain ways to do things here,” my mother-in-law said, taking a sharp sip from her coffee mug. “Living in a joint family means respecting the way we do things. You can’t boss us around.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could unleash another mama bear roar, my father-in-law materialized in the doorway, looking like a walking thundercloud.
“So,” he growled, “when are you packing up and going to your mom’s?”
Tears stung my eyes.
There I was, a new mom with a screaming baby, and my in-laws were practically shoving me out the door. Hurt and angry, I ran back to my room, tears streaming down my face.
I packed a bag for myself and Tommy, my hands shaking with anger and disbelief.
On the way out, neither of them said goodbye. They just slammed the door behind me, leaving me completely alone.
The next few days were a blur at my mom’s. My safe haven was more like a crowded life raft, but at least it was quiet. I called Adam, who was still away on business, and filled him in on everything.
“They got what?” Adam’s voice was thick with fury. “They fired you?”
“Yeah,” I sniffed. “They told me to go to my mom’s.”
“I’ll be right back,” he said firmly. “I’ll be on the next flight. They can’t do this to you.”
Adam arrived late that night, his face drawn with exhaustion and anger. As soon as he walked through the door, he hugged me, hugging Tommy too.
“I can’t believe they did this,” he mumbled into my hair. “We’ll figure this out.”
The next morning, we packed up our things and headed back to the Andersons’.
Adam was furious, but he was determined to have a calm, rational conversation. As soon as we walked in, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were waiting for us, looking smug and unrepentant.
“So,” Adam began, his voice firm but cold, “what’s this about throwing Mila and Tommy out?”
My stepfather crossed his arms. “Adam, we’ve talked about this. Our house, our rules. Mila needs to understand that.”
Adam’s jaw clenched. “Dad, it’s not about the rules. You can’t just throw my wife and child out like they’re nothing.”
My stepmother sighed dramatically. “Adam, honey, it’s not like that. We just need peace and quiet here.”
“Peace and quiet?” Adam’s voice rose. “You call that peace and quiet when you’re yelling at each other every night? Tommy needs a stable environment, not this… chaos.”
My stepfather’s face darkened. “Watch your tone, son. This is our house.” If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should leave too.”
I held Tommy tighter, my heart pounding. The situation was escalating quickly.
Adam took a deep breath, clearly struggling to keep his composure.
“Look, we’re family. We should be able to work this out. But right now, we need to think about what’s best for Tommy.”
My stepmother rolled her eyes. “Adam, you’re overreacting. Babies cry. That’s what they do. A little noise isn’t going to hurt him.”
“A little noise?” Adam shook his head in disbelief. “Mom, it’s not just the noise. It’s the constant arguing, the tension. It’s not healthy.”
My stepfather pointed a finger at Adam. “You think you know better? We raised you and your sister. We know what we’re doing.” »
“Maybe you do,” Adam said quietly. “But that doesn’t mean you can dictate how we raise our son. We have to find a solution that works for everyone.”
Mrs. Anderson growled. “Good luck with that.”
Of course, my in-laws weren’t happy and never spoke to me. They continued to argue nonstop, louder than ever. I knew they were making noise on purpose this time, but I didn’t say anything.
But here’s the thing: a few days later, the doorbell rang and my stepfather answered the door, only to GASP.
Two police officers showed up at the door and ushered my stepfather and stepmother out. It then turned out that Adam had called the police to report his parents for kicking me out of MY OWN house.
The truth hit me like a punch to the gut.
Adam confessed that the money his father had given for the house had gone to a failing company. He then revealed that he had bought the house in my name, using all his savings, and had kept it a secret from me and his parents.
Fast forward to that night, I was rocking my baby in the nursery, relieved to be back home, the very place my in-laws had forced me to leave. Then the phone rang, breaking the silence. It was my in-laws. I hesitated, but answered.
“Mila,” my mother-in-law said, her voice unusually soft, “we didn’t know this was your house. If we had known…”
My father-in-law interrupted, “We’re sorry, Mila. Really. We didn’t mean to—”
“This isn’t about whose name is on the deed,” I interrupted. “This is about what you did. You kicked a woman and her newborn baby out because you didn’t like something. That’s not right.”
There was a pause. Then my mother-in-law spoke again, “So, can we come back?”
“No,” I said firmly. “That’s enough to let me know what you’re capable of. I don’t want you in my house anymore.”
Silence. Then a silent “Okay,” and they hung up.
I looked at Tommy, who was sleeping peacefully in his crib. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. “We’re home, buddy,” I whispered, “and we’re staying here.” »
Look, I don’t hold a grudge. But throwing out a new mom and baby? Living with a family means compromises, right? Those two, though… they acted like they were the king and queen of the castle, and Tommy and I were just guests.