I Married into a ‘Perfect’ Family – at My MIL’s 60th Birthday Dinner, My Husband’s Aunt Hugged Me and Whispered, ‘You Have No Idea What They Did to the Last One’

She’d laugh.

“You’re 35, sweetheart. You think you have forever?

Andrew deserves children. A real woman doesn’t wait until she’s almost 40.”

The first time, my face burned.

The second time, my hands shook under the table.

The third time, I excused myself and cried in the bathroom.

One night, Andrew and I were brushing our teeth.

“You know,” Andrew said, “we should probably start trying soon.”

I looked at him in the mirror. “Do you want a baby or do you want to make your mom happy?”

Andrew’s jaw tightened.

“Like what?”

“Paranoid.

You’re always thinking the worst of her.”

“Because she’s controlling our life. She’s in every decision.”

He dropped his toothbrush into the sink. “She’s my mother.

She’s always going to be involved. If you can’t handle that, maybe you’re not ready for a real family.”

There it was.

A “real family” meant my husband, his mom, and whatever role they decided I should play.

After that, Dolores dropped the sweet facade with me.

“If you’re not going to give him a baby,” she said one afternoon, “at least make the house feel like a home.”

An hour later, she shook her head. “You don’t cook enough.”

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