“I wanted to hate her because I thought I was supposed to.
Because the stigma society lays out is so big.
Because I wasn’t married when I got pregnant by her son, unexpectedly.
Because I was that rebel woman, struck down by a hard life, almost too independent and broken to be loved, but who her son so fiercely loved regardless.
Because someday, she would become my mother-in-law.
I wanted to hate her because everything about the way it should have gone didn’t go as planned.
I wanted to hate her because the whole mom thing failed with me growing up, so why would I want one now?
I wanted to hate her because I knew I would never make those crushed candy cane cookies as good as her, let alone because I’ll never be a baker.
I wanted to hate her because she gave me mammoth-sized shoes to fill and I thought I couldn’t fill them without stepping on her toes.
By the time we were ready to give birth, my desire to fill her shoes shifted to a desire to walk beside her.
And all those big scary stigmas the world shaped and told me all about faded away, and I could see her there for all she was, just like me – a mother.
In all her relatable, vast, and humorous glory.
A mother you could never hate. Not even a smidge, a speck, or an ounce – not even a little.
Because she is the one who raised the man who helps me raise my own children.
A mother who just wants to love her big kid just as much as I love my little one.
A mother who loves regardless of where you’re going or where you come from.
A mother you can drink-double with, laugh with, and learn from.
A mother with the best cooking and honestly, the best cookies.
A mother-in-law; one who just wants to love her big kid, just as much as I love my little one.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Wallflower Writing at Detroit Moms. You can follow her journey on Instagram and her website. Submit your own story here, and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories, and YouTube for our best videos.
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