My MIL is insane!
She never liked me, but ever since I got pregnant, she’s gone off the deep end. She butted into every single decision we made, yelling at me ALL THE TIME.

At our ultrasound, when we found out we were having a girl, she lost it. Right there, in front of everyone, she started screaming:

“You couldn’t even give my son a boy! You’re a total FAILURE!”

Jeez, it was horrible.

Then came the labor.
God, I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy. I was beyond exhausted, about to faint, and I could hear the doctors whispering the worst.

After hours of agony, I gave birth to my baby girl… and blacked out.
When I woke up, they told me it was a MIRACLE I survived. I was totally weak, and I wasn’t supposed to stress myself out.

Then, sure enough, my MIL busted into the room, yelling at me like a maniac!
When the nurse brought my baby in, she ripped her right out of the nurse’s hands! She literally TOOK MY DAUGHTER FROM ME!

I thought she’d calm down after the birth.
A week later, I realized just how wrong I was.

Also Read : MY KIDS SAW A MAN RIDING MY OLD BIKE—AND WHAT HE DID NEXT LEFT ME SPEECHLESS

I was feeding my daughter when this woman walked in. She looked at me with disgust and handed an envelope to my husband.
Frowning, he opened it… and turned pale.

“Pack your stuff. You have an hour. And after that… TAKE THE BABY AND GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE.”

At first, I thought I misheard him.
I blinked in shock, clutching my baby tighter. “What did you just say?”

But he didn’t even meet my eyes.
“You heard me,” he muttered, shoulders tense. “My mom… she’s right. You’re nothing but trouble. We don’t need this drama.”

Tears stung my eyes.
“I just gave birth, Alex! I almost died!” I screamed, my voice shaking. “And you’re siding with HER?”

My MIL smirked triumphantly from the doorway.
“Finally, my son is waking up to reality.”

I couldn’t believe it.
We had planned this family together. We had picked out her name together.
And now—now he was throwing me out like garbage because of this bitter old woman.

“You have one hour,” he said again, colder this time.

I packed in a haze of tears, holding my newborn close, whispering apologies I didn’t owe.
As I stood at the door, bags in hand, my MIL leaned in and whispered:

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t last a week without him.”

I walked out, heart shattered, no idea where to go.

But life is strange.
Because two days later, I got a call from a lawyer—one I had never contacted. Apparently, my late grandmother had left a trust fund for me—one I didn’t know existed until now.

And just like that, I wasn’t homeless.
I had a small apartment and money to care for my daughter.

Fast forward six months—Alex showed up at my door, eyes sunken, mother nowhere in sight.

“Please… can I see the baby?” he asked, voice trembling.

I looked him straight in the eye, my daughter safe and happy in my arms.

“You made your choice, Alex. And now, I’m making mine.”

I closed the door.