But I wasn’t the only one waiting for this child.
Bill’s mother, Jessica, had been waiting too—just not in the way a grandmother should.
She had never liked me, never even pretended to. From the beginning, she made it clear I wasn’t good enough for her son.
“Bill deserves someone better,” she’d say, shaking her head whenever I was around.
And the moment she found out I was pregnant, everything changed. But not in the way I had hoped.
It was as if the baby belonged to her, not me.
She invited herself to every doctor’s appointment. She dictated how I should eat, how I should sleep, how I should
