The day I gave birth, my mother rode eighteen hours on a hard-seat train from our hometown just to take care of me during postpartum recovery.
In one month, she lost ten pounds from exhaustion alone.
The moment my recovery ended, my mother-in-law walked through the door wheeling a suitcase behind her.
"Mrs. Henson, Prudence Henson is done with her postpartum recovery now, so it's time for you to head home. I'll be moving back in."
"Oh, and by the way, you stayed in my house for thirty days. That's three hundred a night for lodging and two hundred a day for utilities. You owe us fifteen thousand total. Cash or transfer?"
My mother froze, completely at a loss for words.
I stared at my mother-in-law in disbelief.
"The second I gave birth, you took off on vacation. My mother dropped everything and traveled all the way here to take care of me around the clock. She even paid for groceries out of her own pocket. And now you're charging her rent?"
Cornelia James didn't flinch.
"One thing's got nothing to do with the other. Your mother taking care of you is her job. But she stayed under my roof, so she pays."
I turned to my husband, certain he'd say something fair.
Instead, Seth James put on his most reasonable voice.
"Even brothers settle their debts. Your mother's an outsider. She should've expected to pay."
I didn't argue. I didn't cry. I transferred fifteen thousand dollars to them right then and there.
But that money wasn't for lodging.
It was tuition.
For a lesson they'd never forget.
——
The day I had the baby, Cornelia had shown up at the hospital with her suitcase already packed.
She recorded a short video of the baby, sent it to her group chat so her friends could fawn over her brand-new grandson.
Then she turned to me without missing a beat.
"Prudence, I made plans with the girls to go on a trip today. You and Seth will have to manage the baby on your own."
"I'll bring you back a souvenir."
I almost thought I'd heard her wrong.
Because ever since I married Seth, Cornelia had hounded me about having a baby. She swore up and down that all I had to do was give birth. With her around, I wouldn't have to lift a finger.
I believed her.
And what did I get?
The baby was barely out of me before she was on her way to the airport.
I opened my mouth to say something, but she was already wheeling her suitcase toward the door, not a backward glance.
When my mother heard that no one was looking after me, she bought the earliest train ticket she could find that same night and sat on a hard seat for eighteen straight hours to reach the hospital.
The moment she saw me lying in that bed, the incision from my C-section still seeping through the bandages, her eyes went red.
"Sweetheart, don't you worry. Mama's here. I'll take care of you and the baby."
And she meant every word.
During those days in the hospital, she fed the baby, changed diapers, and looked after me all at once.
Every time I needed the bathroom, she'd hold me steady with one arm while carefully lifting the IV bag with the other.
She was a small woman. Every time she raised that bag, she had to stand on her tiptoes and stretch her arm as high as it would go, terrified the blood might flow back into the line.
After discharge, the real recovery began.
Every morning before dawn, while I was still sleeping, my mother was already up making soup.
By the time the sun rose, she'd have the baby rocked back to sleep before heading out to buy groceries and cook.
My mother had been frugal her entire life. When she was home alone, she wouldn't even buy meat for herself.
But for me, every single meal had the best fish and the best cuts she could find. When I tried to give her money for food, she flat-out refused.
After I finished eating, she'd scrape together whatever was left on the plates, eat a few quick bites, then go right back to the laundry, the cooking, the feeding, the diaper changes.
At night, she carried the baby into her own room so the crying wouldn't wake me.
For thirty days straight, she never took a single day off. She never slept through a single night.
