Regretted It Soon

Mila was devastated when her in-laws threw her out while she was still carrying her newborn. They had no idea that the consequences of their acts would haunt them in ways they could never have predicted.

Hi everyone, this is Mila. I’m constantly alert as a busy mother of a one-year-old, but that’s nothing compared to the shock I received recently. Have you ever considered your reaction if your in-laws forcibly removed you and your newborn from the home? Since that’s exactly what happened to me, let me tell you…
Now, for the catch. At first, it seemed like a great idea to live with Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, my husband Adam’s parents. The whole “big happy family” thing, you know. It turns out that applying sugar to a cactus doesn’t lessen its prickliness.

Their everyday disputes happened just on schedule. Each and every day.
It always began with the silliest items, such as the TV remote. My ever-excited FIL needed his fill of baseball, but my gentle MIL wanted her nighttime soap operas.
If it didn’t turn into screaming bouts fit to rouse the dead, let alone a grumpy baby, it wouldn’t be half as awful.
To be honest, I mostly just ignored it. But after a difficult night, my little Tommy was finally asleep when the screams resumed.

I was furious. As I was trying to get Tommy back to sleep for the hundredth time, downstairs they were fighting like little kids over a bucket of Legos. At last, I lost it.
I hurried downstairs, feeling like I could let go my inner mommy bear. Before I could start lecturing, though, I noticed them stretched out on the couch, as calm as cucumbers in between fits of shrieking.
“Hey,” I said, attempting to seem composed, “just so you know, the baby’s sleeping.”
“What’s your point?” Mr. Anderson answered, averting his eyes from the television.
“My point,” I stated, trying not to lose my composure, “is that your shouting is waking him up.”

“Oh, come on,” Mrs. Anderson added, rolling her eyes. “Babies need to get used to noise.”
Trying not to lose my temper, I answered, “I think we can argue quietly.” “Just for tonight.”
“You know, Mila, when Adam was a baby, he slept through anything,” Mrs. Anderson sneered. Tommy might simply need to get more resilient.”
My tongue was bit. “Possibly. But he’s still a baby and needs to sleep right now.”
I pivoted and strode back upstairs after that. A few seconds later, I heard the thunderous voice of Mr. Anderson explode.

With a fiery voice, he yelled, “How dare she?!” Then he blurted out some really “nasty” comments that I can’t post here, but maybe you get the idea of what he was talking about.
Then, without even bothering to knock, he stormed into my room.
I want you to know that you don’t silence me while I’m at home. I live here. You don’t have to tell me what to do because I gave my son the money to buy it. If you truly believe you’re so intelligent, then take the child and move in with your mother, where things are nice and quiet. Perhaps after returning from his business trip, my son will consider allowing you to return.”

Oh no. Is this really what he called HIS HOUSE? How about the tone?
Even though my blood pressure spiked, I remained silent. Perhaps in the morning he wouldn’t mean it because he was simply angry.
When morning arrived, the hope I was holding onto dissolved more quickly than a free doughnut at work. My mother-in-law was in the kitchen, happily listening to the radio as if nothing had happened.

“Hey, mom,” I said, expecting it would be the beginning of regret. She interrupted me with a casual wave of her hand, “About what dad said yesterday—” “Honey, my husband has a point,” she chirped. It is, after all, his home. Boundaries and all that, you know.”
“Boundaries?” I said it again, sceptical. “Like the boundary that separates a grown woman from wanting a peaceful home for her child?”

“Mila, there are specific methods that things operate here,” my mother-in-law remarked, taking a sharp sip from her coffee mug. “Respecting each other’s methods is essential to living as a united family. You are unable to dictate to us.”
I started to object, but before I could let out another fierce cry, my FIL appeared in the doorway, resembling a thundercloud on four legs.
“So,” he said, “when are you packing up and heading to your mama’s place?”
My eyes pricked with tears.

With my baby wailing, I was a new mother and my in-laws were literally forcing me out the door. Tears were flowing down my cheeks as I stormed back to my room, hurt and furious.
My hands trembling with anger and shock, I packed a bag for Tommy and me.
Neither one of them said farewell to me as I left the room. It felt like they had shut the door behind me, leaving me all alone.
The days that followed at my mom’s house were a fog. Despite being calm, my refuge seemed more like a packed life raft. I told Adam everything over the phone while he was still traveling for work.
“They what?” Adam’s anger erupted in his voice. “They kicked you out?”
Yes, I said with a sniff. “Told me to go to my mom’s.”

Hardly saying, “I’m coming back,” he spoke. “I’ll board the subsequent aircraft. This cannot be done to you by them.”
Adam showed up late that very evening, his face a mask of frustration and rage. He embraced me tightly as soon as he came through the door and held Tommy close, too.
“I’m amazed that they carried out this,” he whispered into my hair. “We’re going to sort this out.”
We packed up our belongings and left for the Andersons’ place early the following morning.

Despite his fury, Adam was resolved to have a cool-headed discussion. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were waiting for us, looking smug and unapologetic as soon as we entered.
“So,” Adam said in a calm yet aloof tone, “what’s this about throwing Tommy and Mila out?”
My filthy uncle folded his arms. “Adam, we spoke about this. Our home, our regulations. Mila must comprehend that.”
Adam’s jaw became tense. It’s not about rules, Dad. You can’t treat my wife and child like they don’t exist.”
My mother-in-law sighed deeply. “It’s not like that, Adam, my sweetheart. All we need is some silence around here.”

“Peace and quiet?” Adam raised his voice. “You call peace and quiet every night while you yell at each other? Tommy needs stability in his surroundings, not this… pandemonium.”
My FIL became gloomy. Keep your voice down, kid. This is where we live. Perhaps you ought to go too if you are incapable of respecting that.”
I tightened my grip on Tommy as my heart raced. This was quickly getting worse.
Adam inhaled deeply, obviously finding it difficult to control his temper.
“Hey, we’re related. This should be something we can resolve. However, we must consider Tommy’s best interests at this time.”
My mother-in-law scoffed. “You’re exaggerating, Adam. Infants weep. That’s what they carry out. A small amount of noise won’t harm him.”
“A little noise?” Adam gave a bewildered shake of his head. It’s not only the noise, Mom. It’s the strain, the never-ending conflict. It’s not good for you.”
My father-in-law pointed a finger at Adam. Do you really think you know more than we do? Your sister and you were reared by us. We are proficient in our work.”

In a low voice, Adam answered, “Maybe you do.” However, that does not give you the right to control our son’s upbringing. We must come up with a plan that benefits everyone.”
Mrs. Anderson gave a sneer. “Good luck with that.”
My in-laws, naturally, were not amused and never said anything to me about it. They continued to argue incessantly, raising their voices even higher. This time, I realized they were intentionally making noise, but I remained silent.
The worst part is that a few days later, my FIL answered the door when the doorbell rang, and when he did, GASP.
When two policemen arrived, they removed my FIL and MIL out of the house right away.
When they realized the house was actually MINE, they were astounded.

It turns out that the funds my husband received from his father-in-law to purchase the house were used for a failed business venture.
Adam recently told me that he used all of his savings to purchase the house in my name, but he hid this information from me and other people out of fear that his father would become upset.
When my phone called later that evening, I realized it was my in-laws. Despite my hesitation, I picked up.
My mother-in-law added, “Mila, we didn’t know it was your house,” in an extremely quiet voice. Had we known—”

“We apologize, Mila,” interrupted my FIL. Really. We intended not to—”
I cut him off, saying, “It’s not about knowing whose name is on the deed.” “What matters is what you did. You got mad over something and threw a woman and her baby out. That is not acceptable.
A pause occurred. My MIL then said, “So, can we come back?” once more.
“No,” I firmly said. “Knowing what you’re capable of suffices. You are no longer welcome to stay in my home.”
Stillness. “Alright,” in a hushed voice, and they hung up.

I glanced at Tommy, who was soundly dozing in his crib. A weight was released from my shoulders. I muttered, “We’re home, buddy, and we’re staying right here.”
Look, I don’t harbor resentment. However, evicting a new mother and her child? Compromising is part of living with family, isn’t it? But these two—they behaved as though Tommy and I were simply visitors, and they were the king and queen of the castle. Am I seeing double here?

Please share your opinions in the comments section! I appreciate everyone who has listened.