My mother-in-law acted like my pregnancy belonged to her: She painted the nursery without asking, burned stinky weeds to “ensure a boy,” and bossed me around daily. But when I gave birth to a baby girl, her cruel reaction made me smile… Because I was ready.
I never thought pregnancy would be like a marathon, with everyone from my doctor to my mother-in-law marking the finish line for me.
Still, I was happy. Really.
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My husband, Jake, was infinitely kind and loving.
“Don’t stress, honey. Get more sleep. Eat your broccoli.”
But her mother, Sheila… Oh, she’d been sighing dramatically since our first ultrasound. Not about the baby’s health—no, that hardly interested her. But it was about something much more important to her.
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“If it’s a girl, I honestly don’t know how I’m going to deal with it…”
“Face what, exactly?” I asked, although I already knew the script by heart.
“Well, our family is all boys! I had three brothers and my husband had two. Jake is the first grandchild! Imagine what it would be like – a girl?”
“Were you a child too?” I murmured once in a low voice.
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“Honey, little girls rarely grow up to be brilliant women like me.”
I rolled my eyes – I just wanted one day of silence. Just one.
To say Sheila was “involved” in the pregnancy would be like calling a tornado “a little windy.” She unilaterally decided the nursery should be blue and painted it herself while I was home, suffering from morning sickness.
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She lit bundles of mysterious herbs from her “fertility rituals Facebook group” and paraded around the apartment chanting things like:
“Strong seed, strong son!”
Also, my mother-in-law made me rub warm oil clockwise on my belly every Thursday at 3 p.m. sharp, and once tried to sneak a fertility crystal into my smoothie.
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All of that – and we hadn’t even reached the third trimester.
At the 20-week ultrasound, the doctor confirmed it: a boy. I breathed a sigh of relief because that meant fewer monologues from Sheila.
“I knew it!” she squealed with joy. “A little champion! I can just picture him playing baseball.”
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“What if she wants to do ballet?” Jake whispered to me, barely hiding his smile.
Sheila almost choked on her sparkling water. Afterwards, everything went relatively well.
I counted the days, slept with a pillow between my knees, and ordered pineapple pizza at 3 a.m. like a true hormonal goddess.
A week before my due date, Jake said goodbye to me with a guilty smile.
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“Honey, I have to go away for two days – just two! Promise me you won’t give birth without me.”
“Sure,” I joked. “I’ll keep the baby inside through sheer willpower until you get back.”
But deep down, something inside me felt restless.
Of course, the next night the contractions started. I tried calling Jake—I couldn’t get a signal. Typical. I called my mother-in-law—she was at my door within twenty minutes.
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“I told you it would be today! Your belly dropped yesterday. I knew it.”
“Maybe now isn’t the best time to analyze the belly…” I moaned, clutching the door frame as another contraction hit.
“Where’s your first aid kit? Who brought this hospital bag? Did you take the extra blanket? Honestly, it’s all on me!”
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I sank into the car, clutching my stomach, while she managed to call three of her friends to announce:
“Let’s meet the grandson!”
She hummed as if she had a degree in gynecology with a specialization in psychic predictions.
“It’s definitely a boy! I can feel it! That hard kick? Only boys kick like that. Girls don’t.”
I remained silent because each new wave of pain prevented me from unleashing my signature sarcasm.
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“The important thing is that he’s going to look like Jake! Same jawline. In our family, that’s a source of pride.”
Thankfully, the car screeched to a stop in front of the hospital. Sheila jumped out like a superhero.
“Quick! The heir is coming!”
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I walked out slowly, my eyes fixed on the night sky. “Okay, baby. Your time has come. Just… Maybe it’s better to wait a few minutes to reveal the gender and enjoy a few minutes of peace?”
***
The birth was… well, the birth. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It was painful, long, and wild. But then—a cry. A small, pure, and unmistakable first cry. The nurse smiled at me.
“Congratulations! It’s a girl.”
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I froze for a second.
Then Sheila somehow burst into the delivery room.
“What? A girl?”
It sounded like she had given birth to a crocodile.
“Yes, a beautiful girl!” smiled the nurse, gently placing my daughter on my chest.
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I looked at that tiny face, and in that moment, nothing else mattered to me. She was my entire universe. But my mother-in-law…
“I… I don’t understand. The ultrasound said… It was supposed to be a boy…”
“Sometimes they make mistakes,” I said, without taking my eyes off my little girl.
“No, this is… this can’t be right… Is he even my son’s son?”
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I slowly raised my head.
“Excuse me, what did you just say?”
“I’m just asking! These things happen! Maybe there was a mix-up…”
I had to physically restrain myself from throwing a pillow at him.
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That afternoon, we were taken to the newborn observation room, where rows of tiny babies slept like angels in small bassinets. Sheila paused in front of the glass.
“Now that kid – he’s adorable. Look at those fingers! And those cheeks – just like Jake’s when he was little!”
I hugged my daughter tightly.
“That’s not our baby, Mom.”
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“What a shame. Because this…” He looked at my daughter with a barely concealed expression of disgust.
“Well, it’s a little… weird. Maybe she’s from another room. Who knows. And honestly, a girl? It’s just… not the same.”
“Are you serious now?”
“What? I was expecting a grandchild. I prepared everything for a boy. This is… a shock, you understand?”
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I looked at my baby. She had fallen asleep again, wrapping her tiny fists around the edge of the blanket.
And I knew, without a doubt – that she deserved a grandmother who loved her fiercely.
It was over! My mother-in-law needed a lesson.
And believe me, I already knew exactly how to give it to him.
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***
The day of our discharge was warm and sunny – the perfect weather for a little revenge.
I woke up early, looked down at the baby snuggled up next to me, snoring softly, and whispered,
“Today, honey, we’re going to put on a show.”
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The nurse brought us the discharge papers, wished us luck and plenty of sleep (both of us), and nodded toward the hallway. Our guests had arrived.
I dressed the baby in a sky-blue onesie with a teddy bear hood, placed him in the carrier, and added a matching blue blanket. I topped it all off with a giant bunch of blue balloons that read “It’s a BOY!”
Jake was already waiting in the hallway—bleary-eyed, holding a bouquet of daisies and my favorite coffee in a to-go cup. I instantly forgave him for the business trip.
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Beside him was Sheila. My dear mother-in-law. I handed the carrier to Jake. He laughed and looked inside.
“Oh, my little one…”
A pause.
“Wait. Is that… a pink pacifier?”
I blinked innocently. “Well, modern kids can like pink too, right?”
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Sheila intervened like a gust of icy wind. She stared at the baby as if she were seeing a ghost.
“What is this?! It’s supposed to be a girl! Did you steal someone else’s baby? This is postpartum depression!”
Jake looked around, completely confused.
“Mom, what are you talking about? He’s our son. You were expecting a grandson, remember?”
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I turned to her with the sweetest smile I could muster.
“You must be tired, Mom. Imagining things like that… But look, that smile and that jaw? Pure family genes.”
It flickered like a burned-out lightbulb. Later, in the car, as Jake loaded our bags, we were briefly alone. I leaned toward her and whispered, “You admired those other baby boys so much… so I switched with another mom. She wanted a girl, we wanted a boy. Makes sense, right?”
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Sheila’s eyes widened like stuffed olives. “You… what?”
I winked at him.
“I’m joking. Or not?”
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***
We’d barely stepped through the front door when the doorbell rang. Jake was still dragging our hospital bags, and I hadn’t even taken off my shoes.
I opened the door and froze. There were two people—one in a suit with a clipboard and the other with a gray windbreaker and a badge.
“Good afternoon. We’re from Child Protective Services. We’ve received a report about a possible baby switch.”
Jake almost dropped his diaper bag.
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“What do you say?”
The woman with the badge gave a polite, rehearsed smile. “May we come in?”
I calmly stepped back. “Of course. This way. Can I offer you some tea?”
Jake stared at me.
“What the hell is going on?”
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I glanced down the hallway, just in time to see my mother-in-law’s head disappear around the corner like a cartoon villain. The officers started asking questions.
“Can we see the baby?”
“Do you have the hospital discharge papers?”
“Any identification band or birth certificate?”
I handed it all over to him with a smile.
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Birthstone bracelet? Check.
Hospital documents? Checked.
Identification with the baby’s name, birth time, and weight? Triple-check.
The woman gently picked up my little girl, finally out of her blue costume and soft yellow sweater.
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“It’s perfectly healthy. And clearly very much yours,” he said, returning it to me with a smile.
The man in the suit closed his folder.
“There’s no evidence of foul play. Everything fits perfectly. But, for the record – was there any conversation or action that could have led anyone to believe the baby had been switched?”
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Jake looked at me. I raised my eyebrows.
“Oh, just a little misunderstanding. A little joke. Someone in the family took it… very seriously.”
And Jake, bless him, gave a faint smile. One that only I could capture.
Because he knew it.
She knew exactly how her mother had behaved in the hospital. She saw how she stared at our baby.
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And he let me bring it. We didn’t expect a reaction like that.
When the officers left, I found Sheila in the kitchen. I walked in slowly, holding my daughter.
“You called Child Protective Services.”
“You said… You traded her. You said it!”
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“I was scared, okay? I panicked. But she’s… she’s still my granddaughter. I didn’t mean half the things I said.”
I kissed my daughter’s forehead and turned to leave. Then I paused in the doorway and added:
“Just so you know… she’s got Jake’s jawline. Your pride and joy, right? You better start loving her fast. She’s family, whether you like it or not.”
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And with that, I left her standing there, silent, cornered, and ultimately… embarrassed. Jake was waiting in the hallway.
“All good?”.
“Perfect”.
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