Sometimes you have to remember your worth and stand up for yourself — this is what I learned after giving birth to my fourth child. Although the lesson came at a cost, I realized the alternative would have had far worse consequences.
Life has been overwhelmingly busy lately. Four months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful boy, Dylan, who joined his three siblings, all under eight. As you can imagine, managing a newborn, along with three other young children is exhausting but fulfilling in a way that’s hard to describe.
A mother and her newborn. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Becoming a mother has been the most significant role of my life. While pregnant with our first child, Tray, my husband George and I discussed whether I should return to work. We initially agreed that I would stay home for a year before resuming my career. However, when the time came, I realized I wanted to be a full-time mom.
This feeling of profound responsibility towards our children grew stronger with the arrival of each new family member. First Tray, then our daughter Lily, followed by Justin, and finally Dylan. Each addition reinforced my decision to focus on raising them.
A mother spending tim with her kids. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
However, things at home began to change with Dylan’s birth. My mother-in-law started showing up at our house unannounced. She wasn’t coming to help with the children or the household.
She would say hello, then disappear into the kitchen to help herself to whatever she found, leaving dirty dishes behind. This happened several times, and each instance chipped away at my patience.
A woman sitting in the kitchen enjoying a meal and looking at her phone. For illustration purposes only | Source: Freepik
The situation escalated one morning after a particularly trying doctor’s visit with Dylan, who had just received his vaccinations. He was fussy, and I was running on little sleep.
All I craved was a soothing cup of coffee when we returned home. As I settled Dylan in his crib and finally headed to the kitchen, I heard the front door open and the familiar cheer, “Hi, dear! Just came to check on all of you!”
A cup of coffee. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
It took a while to soothe Dylan, and by the time I reached the kitchen for my much-needed coffee, I discovered not only was the pot empty, but I also had no coffee filter left. My mother-in-law, oblivious to my need, casually took the last cup.
Watching her take that last sip, I felt a surge of frustration. Just then, Lily burst into the kitchen, her presence a brief distraction from my brewing anger. “Mommy, can we watch ‘Peppa Pig’?” she asked.
Young girl with her mother in the kitchen. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Masking my irritation, I smiled and nodded, asking if her brothers wanted to watch too. Once she scampered off, I turned back to face my mother-in-law, who, sensing the tension, quickly left.
When George came home, I told him about the ongoing issues and asked him to speak with his mother. He acknowledged that she had overstepped boundaries but failed to address it with her. That weekend, the unresolved tensions came to a head.
A couple discuss an issue in their relationship. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
After a night of little rest, overwhelmed by the unending demands of parenting, I managed to gather enough energy to make homemade pizzas with the kids.
They were thrilled with the activity, eagerly anticipating eating their creations for dinner. I put Dylan down for his nap right as dinner time approached, hoping for a peaceful end to the day.
A sliced pizzza. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
To my dismay, when I returned to the kitchen, I found the pizzas gone. George and his mother were in the lounge, nonchalantly enjoying the last slices.
My exhaustion turned to anger, and I confronted them loudly, asking why they had eaten the children’s dinner. Their shocked faces only increased my frustration. George tried to calm me, but it was too late; I was too upset to listen.
An angry woman. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
I retreated to our bedroom, slammed the door, and broke down. Why was I the only one trying? Why couldn’t they see how hard I was struggling? Lily’s soft knock on the door pulled me from my despair. “Mommy, where is our pizza?” she asked innocently.
That moment crystallized my resolve. I had to stand up for my children and myself. After reassuring Lily, I confronted George and my mother-in-law again. They attempted to justify their actions by implying concern about my weight. That was the last straw.
A woman confronts her husband and mother-in-law. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Get out, both of you,” I said calmly, my voice firm. They left, and George spent the night at his mother’s house. The relief I felt after they left was palpable.
I ordered pizza for the kids and myself, and as we ate, I made my decision. The next morning, I asked my sister to watch the kids while I filed for divorce. I placed the divorce papers in an empty pizza box on the coffee table for George to discover.
Divorce documentation. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
After informing my parents of the situation, they offered unconditional support. Staying with them allowed me to focus on healing and planning for the future. Within a short time, I regained my strength and prepared to face whatever came my way.
Now, I’m proud of standing up for what’s right for myself and my children. I’ve shown them what strength looks like and taught them the importance of self-respect and making tough decisions for the betterment of one’s future.
A woman enjoying life. For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Had I not come to this realization, my kids would have grown up thinking it’s okay not to get support, care, or real love from those who claim to love you. Now they know their worth, and I will ensure they never forget it.
Like me, Lanie had a similar experience, but at least my husband didn’t insist I wash the dishes without leaving me anything to eat after tending to our newborn.
Five weeks after Lanie became a first-time mom, her mother-in-law also turned her life upside down. MIL made herself a constant fixture in their home, and it didn’t take long for things to unravel since she wasn’t really there to help Lanie and her husband acclimatize to their new responsibility.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
A poor boy assisted an elderly man in achieving his dream, unaware that his own life would be transformed the very next day
Most days after school, I would find something to do outside the trailer—anything to take my mind off things. But little did I know that at the age of 13, my life would change.
That day, I was tossing an old, deflated soccer ball at some bottles I’d set up like bowling pins. It wasn’t much, but it helped pass the time.
Then, out of nowhere, this shiny black SUV rolled up next to the trailer. The windows were tinted, and I stared at it for a second, wondering who on earth would come around here in something that fancy.
The door creaked open, and out stepped this old man, probably in his 70s or 80s, leaning on a cane but with a warm smile on his face. He waved.
“Hey there,” he said, slowly walking over. “Mind if I take a shot?” He pointed at the bottles I had lined up.
I blinked. “Uh, sure, I guess,” I said, not really sure what to make of him.
He chuckled. “Tell you what, let’s make it interesting. If I get a strike, I’ll ask you for a favor, and you can’t say no. But if I miss, I’ll hand you a hundred bucks. Deal?”
My eyes practically popped out of my head. A hundred bucks? I could almost hear the register in my brain ringing. “Deal,” I said quickly.
The man leaned down, picked up the deflated ball, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it. The thing rolled straight into the bottles, knocking every last one down. I stood there, jaw dropped. No way.
The old man laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “Looks like I won,” he said. “Now, for that favor.”
I swallowed, curious. “What do you want me to do?”
“Come fishing with me tomorrow at the old pond,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Fishing?” I scratched my head. That was it? Seemed like a strange request, but definitely not as bad as I thought it would be. “Uh, okay, I guess. Let me just ask my mom.”
He smiled and nodded. “I’ll wait.”
I jogged back into the trailer, opening the door quietly. Mom was asleep on the couch, her chest rising and falling slowly. She’d had a long shift at the gas station the night before, and I didn’t want to wake her. I stood there for a moment, biting my lip.
“She won’t even know,” I muttered to myself. “I’ll be back before she notices.”
Decision made, I tiptoed back outside. “Alright, I’ll go,” I told the old man, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake.
“Great,” he said, smiling even wider. “We’ll meet tomorrow at dawn. Don’t be late.”
The next morning, the old man picked me up bright and early in his black SUV. We drove in silence at first, heading out of town. The place looked like no one had been there in years, the water was still, with tall grass growing around it. There wasn’t a single person in sight.
“Why here?” I asked, looking around as I grabbed the fishing rods he’d brought.
The old man smiled softly as he set up the gear. “This place… it means a lot to me,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
We cast our lines into the water and sat side by side. We didn’t talk much for a while. But after about an hour, with no bites on the line, I couldn’t help but ask.
“So… why did you want to come here to fish?” I asked, curious.
The old man glanced at me, his smile tinged with sadness. “Years ago, I used to come here with my son. He was about your age then.” His voice softened even more.
“We were poor, just like you and your mother. Didn’t have much, but we always found time to come here. Funny thing is, we never caught a single fish, no matter how hard we tried.”
I looked at him. “Where’s your son now?”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the water. I noticed his eyes filled with tears.
“He’s gone,” the old man finally said, his voice heavy. “He got sick. The doctors said he needed an urgent operation, but I didn’t have the money. I couldn’t save him.”
I felt my chest tighten. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, blinking back tears. “That’s when I promised myself I’d never be in that position again. I worked, I hustled, I built myself up so I’d never feel that helpless. But… I never had another child.”
I didn’t know what to say at first, but something inside me knew what he needed to hear. I stood up, walked over to him, and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Your son’s watching you from heaven,” I said softly. “And one day, he’ll see you catch that fish. You just can’t give up.”
He smiled at me, tears still in his eyes. “Thank you, Adam. You remind me so much of him.”
Just then, the float on one of our rods dipped suddenly into the water.
“Hey, the float!” I yelled.
The old man’s eyes widened, and we both grabbed the rod at the same time, pulling hard. But as we yanked, we both lost our balance, tumbling into the pond with a loud splash. I gasped as the cold water hit me, and the old man surfaced beside me, laughing like he hadn’t in years.
“Well, this is one way to catch a fish!” he cackled, struggling to hold onto the rod while I helped pull him up.
We finally managed to drag the rod back to shore, and to our surprise, attached to the end was the biggest fish I’d ever seen. The old man jumped to his feet, soaking wet but grinning like a kid.
“We did it!” he shouted, throwing his hands up in triumph. “We actually caught one!”
I couldn’t help but laugh, watching him dance around like he’d just won the lottery. We were soaked to the bone, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.
Later, he drove me back to the trailer. As we pulled up, he turned to me, his face soft and filled with gratitude.
“Thank you, Adam,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Today meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”
I smiled back. “Thanks for taking me fishing. It was fun.”
He reached out and patted my shoulder, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Take care, son. And don’t give up on those dreams.”
With that, he drove off, leaving me standing there with a strange warmth in my chest.
The next day, there was a knock on our trailer door. I opened it to see a man in a suit standing there, holding a package.
“Adam?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, eyeing the man suspiciously.
“I’m Mr. Johnson, Mr. Thompson’s assistant. He asked me to deliver this to you,” he said, handing over the package.
I opened it right there on the spot and inside was more money than I’d ever seen in my life. My jaw dropped. “W-what is this for?”
Mr. Johnson smiled kindly. “It’s for you and your mother. Enough to move into a proper house, and for her medical care—rehabilitation, so she can walk without pain. There’s also a provision for private tutors to help you prepare for college. Your education, including one of the best colleges in the country, will be fully covered.”
I couldn’t believe it. My head spun as I tried to process what he was saying. “But… why?”
“Mr. Thompson was very moved by you, Adam. He sees a lot of his own son in you. This is his way of saying thank you.”
Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded, overwhelmed by the kindness of a man who had once been a stranger but had now changed our lives forever.
Several months passed since that fishing trip. One afternoon, I came home to find a letter on the table, addressed to me. I recognized the handwriting instantly. My hands shook as I opened it.
“If you’re reading this,” the letter began, “then I’m already watching you from heaven with my son.”
I stopped, swallowing hard, and read on.
“The day after we went fishing, I had heart surgery. I didn’t survive, but that’s okay. Meeting you gave me more peace than I ever thought possible. You reminded me of my son and showed me there’s still joy in life, even after loss.
I’ve left you everything you need to succeed. Remember what you told me that day by the pond? You’ll catch that fish too—just don’t give up, right?”
I wiped a tear from my cheek, staring at the words. I could almost hear his voice again, and see him smiling next to me by the water.
Fifteen years later, I stood on the porch of the house I built for Mom, watching her laugh with my kids in the yard.
“You never gave up, Adam,” she said, catching my eye with a smile. “He’d be proud.”
“I think about him a lot,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I hope I’ve made him proud.”
“You have,” she said gently. “He gave you everything, and look at you now.”
I smiled, glancing at my own home next door. “It wasn’t just the money, Mom. It was the reminder to never give up. I’ll carry that with me forever.”
She squeezed my hand. “And he’s watching. I know it.”
I looked up at the sky, feeling that same calm warmth I’d felt all those years ago.
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