My in-laws rejected the meal I made for them when I'd just had a baby
"We request to never be served that again, they told my husband of the dinner I'd lovingly (sorta) prepared."
Baby
Don't miss out on the headlines from Baby. Followed categories will be added to My News.
My birth story is as exciting as they come, and will show you why I cracked it when my in-laws rejected the first post-partum meal I made for them soon after.
My grandmother died in another country, so half of my family fled to be with her. Two hours later, I went into labour almost an entire trimester early.
I was so early, I was dramatically transferred by ambulance to a large public hospital that had all the right equipment for tiny premmies, and my son was born via emergency c-section 20 minutes later.
But he couldn't breathe.
Want to join the family? Sign up to our Kidspot newsletter for more stories like this.
RELATED: My MIL’s rescued a dog, but it’s put my baby at risk
"Not that my in-laws cared"
I was so unprepared for this very early birth; emotionally and practically.
My kid, who was supposed to be inside me still, battled it out in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) with two heroin-addicted babies screaming their poor little lungs out, as their sad mums sat by them, handcuffed to wheelchairs with official-looking people pushing them... because they were prison inmates. It was heartbreaking.
A week later, I went home with an empty car seat, to an empty crib - because my son had to get stronger before we could be together.
Look, it was a happy ending because my son did eventually come home and was healthy - but those first weeks were a lot to digest.
Not that my in-laws cared.
They worried about the colour of our bi-racial baby
I know this will seem like another in-laws-bashing story... and yes, it is.
But I was so overwhelmed by what was happening in those early weeks, I only wanted my siblings and parents around.
This was pre-COVID, but there were very strict rules for entering the NICU, because, you know, vulnerable babies.
But my in-laws were ropable, and even more furious that I came home without the baby. Like it was my choice. Like I was keeping him hidden from them on purpose.
As you can probably tell, we were not close. They didn't ever warm to me, them being traditional and conservative and me being... neither of those things.
My husband had also told me they were worried about the colour my bi-racial baby would be... so I'll admit, having my first child was really not an experience I wanted them to be part of.
And then, my head was spinning from the events after the birth, so I didn't make it a priority to have them over.
Finally, my husband couldn't bear the harassment from them and asked them around at about week six... for dinner. My baby had been home for a week.
"We request to not be served that again"
There's a saying that you teach people how to treat you, and having been a dutiful wife and daughter-in-law for five years, I had certainly taught this bunch of slackers to rely on me.
I organised everything, cooked, made reservations, bought gifts, and even made the f**king conversation. It was so different from my own family, I guess I felt sorry for these very socially inadequate people (yes, including my husband).
So when he told me they were arriving at 5 pm one night, I knew they'd be expecting dinner soon after.
I was exhausted. I wanted to order Chinese and go to bed with my baby at 7pm. Instead, I resentfully threw pasta and chicken in a pot and chucked some pesto sauce over it.
In fairness to me, it was one of the quick go-to dishes that I'd always made. Just not for them, because God forbid anyone put minimal effort in for them. But it was yummy chicken pesto pasta and I enjoyed it.
By the time I sat down, I was starving. As I got up for seconds, I noticed the in-laws were picking at their meals... but not a sh*t did I give.
Later though, I paid the price, when my husband came upstairs as I was settling the baby to tell me they told him, "We request to not be served that again."
The people I had cooked for, who were sitting at my dining table, sent their son up to me to tell me that.
And he did it.
So I made a decision right there: no one deserved my delicious pesto pasta - or any other meal - from me again.
More Coverage
Originally published as My in-laws rejected the meal I made for them when I'd just had a baby