After giving birth to my first children, I thought my husband would finally start putting us—his new family—before his mother. But I was wrong. When he chose her side over mine one last time, I decided enough was enough. So, I exposed her for the liar and manipulator she truly was.
You’d think bringing home newborn twins would be one of the most joyous moments of your life. For me, it started that way. But within hours, it became a nightmare.
After three exhausting days in the hospital recovering from a difficult delivery, I was finally ready to bring home our beautiful twin daughters, Ella and Sophie. I had pictured it countless times: my husband, Derek, picking us up with flowers in hand and tears of joy in his eyes.
Instead, I got a rushed phone call.
“Hey, baby,” Derek said, voice tense. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t pick you guys up after all.”
“What? Derek, I just had twins. What could possibly be more important?”
“It’s Mom,” he said quickly. “She’s having chest pains. I have to take her to the hospital near her place.”
His words hit me like a slap. “You’re leaving me stranded here with newborns?”
“I’m sorry. It came out of nowhere. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
Biting back tears, I said, “Fine. I’ll get a taxi.” He barely thanked me before hanging up.
His mother lived in a different city. There was no way he’d be back that day. I already knew how obsessed he was with her. Once she called, nothing else mattered.
Trying not to fall apart, I bundled the girls into their car seats and got a cab home.
When we pulled into the driveway, I froze.
My luggage, diaper bags—even the crib mattress—were scattered across the front lawn. A chill crept up my spine. I paid the driver and stepped out, heart racing.
I approached the door, confused. It wouldn’t open. I tried again. Nothing. Then I saw it: a folded note taped to one of the bags.
Get out of here with your little moochers. I know everything. –Derek
The world tilted. My hands trembled as I reread the message, hoping I was imagining things. This couldn’t be real. Not Derek. Not the man who held my hand through every ultrasound, who cried at the sound of our daughters’ heartbeats.
Frantically, I called him. Voicemail. Again. Voicemail.
My babies cried in unison. I could barely think straight. I dialed the one person I didn’t want to worry—my mother.
“Jenna?” she answered immediately. “Are the babies okay?”
I could hardly speak. “Derek changed the locks. He threw out our things. He left a note…”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’m coming. Stay right there.”
When she arrived and saw the mess, her eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t make sense. Derek wouldn’t do this!”
“That’s what I thought,” I whispered, clutching Ella.
We gathered what we could and went to her place. That night, I barely slept. Derek still hadn’t called.
By morning, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I left the girls with Mom and drove back to the house. My things were gone. The yard was clean. I circled around to the back—and saw her.
Derek’s mother, Lorraine, sipping tea at the dining table like royalty.
I banged on the door. She jumped, then smiled when she saw it was me.
“You’re not welcome here,” she said smugly, cracking the door.
“Where’s Derek? Why did he write that note?”
“He’s at the hospital,” she said coolly. “Taking care of me.”
“You’re right here!”
She smirked. “Maybe I’m feeling better. Miracles happen.”
“You lied. You faked being sick.”
She didn’t flinch. “And?”
My blood boiled. “Why?!”
She crossed her arms. “I told Derek from the beginning—we needed a boy to carry the family name. But you gave us two girls. Useless.”
Her words knocked the air out of me.
“I knew you’d ruin him,” she went on. “So I made sure he thought you ruined everything. Took his phone, wrote that note. He believed it.”
I was speechless.
“Oh, and I bribed a nurse at the hospital to keep him from leaving. You were supposed to disappear.”
“You’re sick,” I whispered.
She shrugged. “I’m protecting my family. Derek always sides with me. He’ll come around.”
I couldn’t let this stand. I raced to the hospital.
There he was—pacing in the waiting room, worry etched across his face.
“Jenna!” he exclaimed, rushing over. “Where have you been? I lost my phone—I couldn’t call you!”
“She took your phone,” I said. “She faked the whole thing. She locked me out.”
His face turned pale. “What?”
“She forged that note. Told me you didn’t want us.”
He stared at me in horror, then fury. Without a word, he grabbed his keys and drove us home.
When we arrived, Lorraine was still there, smug and seated.
But the moment Derek walked in, her smile faltered.
“Mom,” he said icily. “What did you do?”
She tried to speak, but he cut her off. “Save it. I know everything.”
“Derek, I—”
“You lied to me. Made me abandon my wife and newborn daughters. Stole my phone. Had my wife locked out after giving birth. All because they’re not boys?”
Her face crumpled. “I was trying to protect you—”
“From my children? If you can’t accept my daughters, you’re no longer part of our lives.”
“Derek, I’m your mother!”
“And Jenna is my wife. Those girls are my daughters. If you can’t respect them, you’re done.”
For once, she was speechless.
She left that night.
Derek changed the locks, blocked her number, and reported the nurse she bribed. He apologized every day. And slowly, we began to heal.
One night, as I rocked Ella and Sophie to sleep, I realized something: Lorraine tried to destroy us—but in the end, she only brought us closer.