My MIL Said She’d Kick Me Out Of The House If I Didn’t Give Birth To A Boy This Time

She’d stroll into our room and tell Derek, “When she’s gone, we’ll make this blue. A real boy’s room.”

If I cried, Derek sneered: “Maybe all that estrogen made you weak.”

I cried in the shower. Whispered to my belly, “I’m trying. I’m sorry.”

The only person who didn’t throw jabs was Michael, my FIL. He wasn’t warm, but he was decent. He carried groceries, asked my girls about school, listened.

He saw more than he said.

Then one day, everything snapped.

Michael had left early for a long shift. By mid-morning, the house felt unsafe.

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