When my daughter had her baby son, I was so happy that my heart almost burst. I had always wanted to be a grandmother, and when I first held that beautiful, frail life in my arms, it felt like the world had changed for the better. I was ready to give him everything I had left.
But delight can become responsibility, and duty can become a burden. My daughter has a tough job. It’s serious, demanding, and she can’t leave it. She didn’t have much time to take a proper maternity leave, so I naturally stepped in. There was no doubt about that.
Every morning at 8, I went to her house. I stayed till the evening, which was generally around 6 p.m. I fed the baby, gave him a bath, rocked him to sleep, washed and ironed clothes, cleaned bottles, made simple meals, and took him for a walk around the block to help him sleep. It was tiring, but I never thought of it as a sacrifice. I loved my daughter and my grandchild.
But one afternoon changed everything.
After a long walk with the baby, I was tired when I arrived home. My stomach growled and my legs hurt. I opened the fridge to get a little food, like a piece of cheese and an apple. That’s when I heard her talk.
“Don’t touch anything in the fridge,” she said. “We buy that food with our own money.”
I stopped moving, and my hand was halfway to the shelf. “But… “I’m here all day, every day,” I said softly. “What’s for dinner?”
“Bring your food,” she added without looking at me. “This isn’t a place to get coffee.” She then walked away, leaving me with an apple in my hand and a lump in my throat.
At that moment, I realized something horrible: I had raised a girl who didn’t value what I accomplished for her.
For years, I had done everything I could for her. I helped her with her homework, comforted her when she was unhappy, and was there for her when things were hard. I thought I had taught her how to be kind, respectful, and grateful. But when I saw how chilly she was that day, I thought about what I had done wrong.
I didn’t want to see the reality, but it was right in front of me. At some point, she stopped seeing me as her mother and started seeing me as someone who could help. Someone who looks after other people. A helpful thing.
I thought about it all night. I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay. I couldn’t keep giving up my health, time, and dignity for someone who didn’t even think of it as love but as duty.
The next day, I answered the phone. I was resolute, even though my voice shook. I said to her, “Sweetheart, you need to hire a nanny.” I can’t come anymore. I don’t want to feel like a stranger in a house where love used to be.
She couldn’t believe it. I could hear the anger, disbelief, and fear. She yelled at me, told me I had left her, and called me selfish. She said I was letting her down. But I didn’t give up.
I said to her, “I love you more than you will ever know.” And I love my grandchild. But love has to come with respect. I won’t keep coming back if you’re going to treat me like a servant. “I’m not your hired help; I’m your mother. I deserve respect.”
What she said hurt, but it didn’t halt me from leaving. I chose myself for the first time.
I still miss my grandson a lot, of course. He didn’t do anything wrong. I want to be a part of his life and give him the love that every child needs. But I now know that I can’t get rid of myself. It’s not good for a youngster to have a damaged and angry grandmother.
Putting down the phone made me feel sad and relieved. It hurt a lot to go, but that pain also set me free. I had set a boundary, something I should have done a long time ago.
It’s not just about the food in the fridge or a casual comment. It’s about showing respect. It’s about appreciating the people who give you their time, love, and energy. People think that mothers should volunteer and give without expecting anything in return. But mothers and even grandmothers are people who have limits.
I made my choice for myself and to show others how to do it. I want my daughter to realize that loving isn’t enough without being thankful. If you take someone for granted, they will eventually leave you. And I hope she would one day realize that the scenario wasn’t abandonment but the only way to move forward.
I still think she could get it. Maybe she’ll realize it when she gets tired of taking care of a child. Maybe she’ll understand when she sees how heavy the burden I’ve been carrying in silence is. Or maybe when my grandson is old enough to ask why Grandma doesn’t come to see him every day.
Until then, I shall bear both the anguish and the peace of my choosing. I will continue to love them both from a position of strength, not sacrifice. And I will keep hoping that one day my daughter will look back and see not selfishness, but a mother who has finally gotten the respect she has always earned.
Love should not be one-sided. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do to show someone you love them is to move away.