What family tradition ruined your family?
The Family Tradition
My mother is obsessed with me having kids. So much so, she’s willing to ruin my life to make sure I give her grandchildren. My mother is the most baby obsessed psycho I’ve ever met. Starting when I was eight years old, she made me and my sister Della wear these pregnancy simulation suits for hours every single day.
These suits involved 20 lbs of sand strapped to our stomachs while we practiced breathing exercises and watched birthing videos. If we complained about back pain, she’d add more weight and tell us real mothers don’t whine.
She even made us practice breastfeeding with these creepy little dolls that would cry if you didn’t hold them right. While I spent every session plotting my escape, Danella embraced it as if it was her one true purpose.
She’d waddle around the house with perfect posture, rubbing her fake belly and talking to it out loud. By the time she turned 16, she was begging mom to let her be a practice surrogate for her infertile work friends.
When she turned 18, mom threw her a massive party, not for graduating high school, but for signing her first surrogacy contract. Everyone was calling her a blessing and an angel while I sat in the corner feeling like I was at a livestock auction.
Within three years, Dianiela had carried three babies for three different couples. Each time she came home from the hospital, mom would parade her around town like she’d won a Nobel Prize.
“Look at my generous daughter giving the gift of life.”
Meanwhile, I was getting a biomedical degree, volunteering at women’s shelters, and learning about bodily autonomy. But none of that mattered. “Such a waste of a perfectly good uterus,” Mom would tell anyone who’d listen.
“Her sister has blessed three families while this one hoordes her fertility for herself.”
The most terrifying part was watching Dianiela deteriorate. After her fourth pregnancy at 22, she could barely walk without pain. Her hips were destroyed.
She had constant infections and her hair was falling out in chunks. But when I tried to talk to her about it, she grabbed my hands with tears in her eyes.
“Maria, this is what I was made for. My body is a vessel for miracles. Why can’t you understand that?”
That’s when I knew she was gone. So, I played along just enough to keep mom off my back. I told her I was considering pregnancy. I wore looser clothes to family events.
I even Googled fertility clinics in front of her. All while secretly taking the LSAT and applying to law schools across the country.
Lol. I specialized in reproductive rights and medical ethics, spending years helping women escape forced pregnancy situations. By 28, I was finally making a difference.
When mom invited me to Daniela’s celebration dinner, I figured it was just another pregnancy announcement. Boy, was I wrong. Turns out it was an effing intervention.
