Sometimes our children’s words hurt us more than anything in this world. And this was the moment for me when my children decided to talk about my love for them.
“We like Grandma way more than you!” Jack said.
“Nana lets us play games until late because she loves us more than you!” April added. I was almost lost for words.
“Who on earth told you that I don’t love you?” I asked as I fought back the tears.
“Grandma always said you didn’t love us, but we didn’t believe her. Now we know what she meant,” Jack responded.
I had always tried to ignore how she treated me over the years, but telling lies to my children is where I draw the line. I couldn’t just swallow it. It was time to get to the bottom of what was going on.
Later that evening, I tucked Jack and April into bed, reassuring them of my love. “I love you both so much. Never doubt that,” I whispered as they drifted off to sleep. My heart was heavy, but I knew what I had to do next.
The next morning, after dropping the kids at school, I drove to my mother’s house. My hands were shaking as I rang the doorbell, not sure what I would say but determined to confront her.
“Hello, dear!” she greeted me with her usual bright smile, but I wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.
“We need to talk,” I said, pushing past her into the living room.
“Of course,” she replied, a hint of confusion crossing her face.
I took a deep breath and began, “Why have you been telling Jack and April that I don’t love them?”
Her face hardened instantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. They told me everything. You’ve been poisoning their minds against me, and I want to know why.”
She sighed, looking away. “Maybe they need to know the truth. You’re always so busy with work. They deserve someone who has time for them.”
“Mom, I work to provide for them. Everything I do is for them. But you’re filling their heads with lies, making them doubt my love. That’s not fair.”
“They need to know who really cares,” she insisted stubbornly.
“Undermining me is not the way to show you care. It’s cruel and manipulative. You’re turning my own children against me.”
Her eyes finally met mine, a flicker of guilt passing through them. “I just wanted them to feel loved.”
“They are loved, by me. But your way of showing love is damaging. You’re confusing them and hurting me.”
We stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the years of tension between us hanging in the air. I finally broke the silence.
“If you truly love Jack and April, you’ll stop this. They need to know that their mother loves them unconditionally. Please, for their sake, stop saying those things.”
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She nodded slowly, tears welling up in her eyes. “I didn’t realize how much harm I was causing. I’m sorry.”
“I hope you mean that,” I said, my voice softening. “Because I can’t have you in their lives if you continue this. They deserve better.”
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With that, I left her house, hoping that my words had made an impact. As I drove home, I felt a mixture of relief and sadness. Confronting my mother was one of the hardest things I’d ever done, but it was necessary for my children’s well-being.
Over the next few weeks, I noticed a change. My mother was more careful with her words, and slowly, Jack and April started to come around, showing me the affection they once did. It was a slow process, but we were healing.
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One night, as I tucked them into bed, Jack whispered, “I love you, Mom.”
Tears filled my eyes as I kissed his forehead. “I love you too, Jack. Always remember that.”
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In that moment, I knew we would be okay. We had faced a difficult truth, but we were stronger for it. And my love for my children, unwavering and true, would always guide us through the darkest times.
