When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed. Bill and I had always dreamed of starting a family. But his mother, Jessica, quickly turned that joy into stress. She’d never liked me and made it clear I wasn’t good enough for her son. Once I became pregnant, she became overbearing—showing up uninvited, insisting on being involved, and taking over everything from nursery plans to doctor appointments.
Despite my difficult pregnancy, she ignored my needs and made things worse. At the ultrasound, she showed up unannounced, only to criticize me when we learned it was a girl, saying Bill “needed an heir.”
When I went into early labor, things got serious fast. I nearly died during childbirth, and when I woke up, Jessica had already held my daughter before I had the chance. She even refused to hand her over when the nurse brought her in, demanding formula so she could keep the baby to herself.
Bill, who had been passive throughout all this, finally gave our daughter to me. I named her Eliza, but Jessica refused to use her name, calling her “Lillian” instead. Then came the final blow: she showed up with a fake DNA test, claiming I’d been unfaithful. Without hesitation, Bill believed her and kicked me and Eliza out.
I went to my mother’s house and, once I recovered, had a real DNA test done using Bill’s toothbrush. When I returned with the results proving Eliza was his, Bill apologized and begged us to come back.
But it was too late.
He chose his mother over us without question. I told him I was filing for divorce and wanted full custody. I left knowing Eliza and I would be okay—without him.
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