Ex-people pleasers, what made you stop pleasing people?
The Confrontation and the Realization of Abuse
My own mother said children were evil, tried to terminate my pregnancy without my consent, broke into our house, lied to CPS and HR, and then stalked me across state lines until we escaped. My mom hates children more than anyone I’ve ever met. When I was a kid, she would straight up ignore me and had a babysitter literally raised me until I turned 14.
I always asked her why she had me if she just liked kids, and she would tell me it was a mistake. Well, I’ve always been completely opposite to my mom and have always dreamed of having a really big family.
But whenever I told my mom about how she’d be an amazing grandmother, she’d shut it down, saying kids are a waste of time. She’d say that was time I could be using to take care of her. I remember feeling crushed, but I also knew in the back of my mind that my mom’s opinion wasn’t right, and I could live life independent from her once when I grew up.
Fast forward to now, I’m 28 and pregnant. My bump was huge, so I knew it was finally time to bite the bullet. And at the last family reunion, I did just that.
My husband was someone my entire family, even my mom, had approved of. And one time, she even made a joke that if I had babies with anyone, it should be with him. So, when we knocked on my mom’s door, I actually had a smile on my face until she opened it. Her eyes immediately welled with tears.
“Please tell me you just got fat.”
“I’m pregnant mom.”
Her fist clenched by her side. And for a second, I thought my husband would have to step in to protect me.
“How could you do this to me after everything?”
In response, I didn’t shout, leave, cry, none of that. I did what the pregnancy hormones told me to do. I went in to hug my mom.
I guess the little girl in me just wanted her support, but instead of hugging me back or even just standing there, she pushed me off by my belly so hard it almost unalived my baby. My husband held me and I could tell he wanted to defend me, but I gave him a hand gesture as if to say, “It’s not worth it.” So, finally, we started to walk away.
The second we got to the car, my phone was buzzing with messages. My mom was spamming me with links to pregnancy termination clinics, their opening hours, and even money to have the procedure done. I immediately broke into tears.
My husband lunged at me for a hug and reassured me that any mother would be lucky to have me as a daughter.
I asked him if we could do the thing, and he held my hand and said, “Yes.”
You see, with the pregnancy hormones, I’ve been getting upset a lot more than usual. And the only thing that’s helped me is by talking to myself out loud how I plan to talk to my daughter.
You can think of it like a coping mechanism. And 5 minutes into this, I realized my mom was batch crazy because I would never force my daughter to end the family bloodline.
I wouldn’t tell every boyfriend she brought home that she was too unstable to raise a child. I wouldn’t congratulate her when she had a miscarriage. I wouldn’t encourage her to smoke at a young age just to promote infertility. And most importantly, I wouldn’t attack her when she came home with a baby bump.
For the first time, everything became clear. Her behavior wasn’t my fault. I didn’t have to please her anymore.
My husband must have seen the look of realization on my face because he just said, “I’m so proud of you.” But his words were distant far away because my mind was clouded with anger. Fury.
I practically slammed the car door open and stomped to my mom’s front door with one hand on my belly and the other and a clenched fist by my side. She opened it and this time she was the one to hug me.
“Honey, you won’t regret this.”
I stared at her eyes right into her soul.
“Mom, I am going to give birth. Me and my husband are going to raise my beautiful baby girl and we are going to have a beautiful family together.”
The more I spoke, the angrier she got. And by the time I was done, her face was ghost white and I actually thought she was going to pass out. She really looked like she was at a loss for words, but I was wrong.
“So, after everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me. You’re a perfect example of why no one should ever have kids.”
“Everything.” I erupted. “You barely acknowledged my presence until I turned 14. And even then, I was more like a slave than your daughter.”
I could tell she wasn’t expecting me to respond because she just stared at me with her mouth slightly open, but I kept going.
“Do you remember the first doll that I brought home? You cut it into pieces from the neck down and threw the parts all around the house and forced me to clean it up.”
“That was for your own good.”
“Enough.”
I interrupted. I had had enough. My husband lightly put his hand on my lower back and we just left.
As he drove us home, I was completely silent. I felt my baby kicking and knew she could never meet her grandmother.
But above all else, I was filled with regret. Regret for how I had let her treat me, how long I had been walking on eggshells around her. How I had spent my whole life trying to make her happy.
But that regret was soon replaced with anger again. I knew I had to do something, not just for me, but for my baby girl, because my mother was coming back into my life, as she did not want me to have a baby.
