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My husband did not spare food for me when I gave birth to our son


My husband did not spare food for me when I gave birth to our son



When I became a mother five weeks ago, my world changed in beautiful and difficult ways. My son was the beginning of my world with his little hands and sighs. But in this new and abundant love there was a shadow of the happiness of our little family – our mother-in-law.

Since we brought our son home, he has been in our room and decorated our room. His intentions were probably good, or so my husband believed. She was here to help us through these early days of motherhood. But his presence soon became another source. It fills our home with guests, increasing the chaos rather than reducing it. Still, I bit my tongue and preferred silence to confrontation; All this in the name of peace. Between the endless routines of feeding, changing the sheets and putting my son to sleep, I could spare little time for myself and often walked for hours. Her mother-in-law, who said she was there to cook, did not increase her support for the child. Finally tired and hungry, I clung to the hope that at least I wouldn’t have to worry about food.

Last night destroyed the last shred of gratitude I had for the so-called help. I left the nursery hoping to see a sign that would save me after a long night of breastfeeding, but I was faced with the problem of neglecting my husband and completely disrespecting his mother.


When he told me there was no food left because he thought he wasn’t hungry, the coldness in his voice was more serious than the physical hunger I felt. At that moment my anger disappeared. The discussions that followed were heated and bitter and revealed deep divisions within our families. My wife’s defense of her mother and anger at my actions made it clear that I was alone in this battle. Moreover, he even expected me to wash the dishes. Feeling completely unsupported and unreachable, I decided to leave and seek refuge with my mother. The peace and care I found was in stark contrast to the chaos I left behind. But even here, where I thought I was safe, conflicts arose. My husband’s constant calls and texts, each one complaining more than the last, got me into this situation.This time he’s the bad guy. It made me sad that he couldn’t understand my point of view, that he saw his mother’s pain, and that he didn’t support me. His loneliness increased when he told his family that I protected our son from trivial things like food. My friendship with my son remained a mainstay as I worked through these swirling emotions. The fact that she entrusted me with her innocence, kindness, and trust strengthened my decision to find a better environment for us, even if it meant going against the wishes of my wife and her family.

In the presence of my mother’s house, I thought about our future with my son by my side. The road ahead seemed daunting, full of difficult discussions and decisions. But despite these challenges, I knew I had to defend myself and my son and fight for a life filled with the love, respect and support we deserve. In a moment of deep despair, I reached out to the one person I had never thought about: my father-in-law. With tears and a shaky voice, I poured out my heart, listing all the stress and anxiety that was overwhelming me. To my surprise, he only spoke reassuring words; He took action immediately.

Within an hour we were standing together at the door of my house, his usually gentle demeanor giving way to a fierce determination I had never seen before. He had no time for fun and ignored me, confronting the heart of the rebellion: his son and his wife, unknowingly sitting in front of the television. Nerves were brimming with anticipation as the arrestingly simple yet powerful order “This is over” was announced.

H.I pointed to my husband first, his voice a mixture of disappointment and authority: “From now on, you will do the dishes every night. Your wife needs your support and will not ignore you.” The seriousness of her words then, without missing a second, she said to her mother-in-law, without leaving time for communication: “Well, it’s time to go home.” The unpopular woman was silenced, stunned, and her protests ended before they even began.

Spirit continues to understand what he said, the father-in-law turned to me, the kindness in his eyes returned and said: “Let’s go eat now.” This meal was a welcome break from the storm as understanding and compassion filled the void that had been created for weeks. It was the balm for my broken heart, the symbol of the solidarity I missed so much. The fact that my father-in-law was helping began to take root in the house. Faced with the undeniable reality of neglect, my husband washed the dishes; it was a symbolic act of taking responsibility for not only the cleanliness of our home, but also the well-being of our family. This was a change that changed the dynamic of our home.


Change was slow but undeniable. My husband has proven to be an ever-present and supportive partner, playing an active role in raising our son and doing countless chores that keep the house running smoothly. Once a source of stress, having a mother-in-law at home has become a rare and welcomed experience. His visits, which were now very rare, were not for reasons but to try to establish family ties and contribute positively to family life.

The change brought about by the courage but necessity of the father-in-law led to the creation of the missing peace and dignity. YahwehThe support I had longed for finally showed up not only in the physical support at home, but also in the emotional support that characterized our family. It was a great reminder of the power of understanding the serious consequences of making the right decision. Ultimately, the chaos that once seemed insurmountable becomes the catalyst for deeper connection and gratitude in all of us. My husband’s efforts to change his behavior and my mother-in-law’s treatment of him painted the picture of our future; A future where support, respect and love are no longer a commodity but the foundation of our family.

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Here is a similar story where MIL throws DIL’s food.

MILF ALL MY FOOD IS FROM THE REFRIGERATOR – I answered her on her birthday


Living in the same house with my mother-in-law was a test of patience, especially due to the cultural differences between us. But I never imagined that his disrespect for my South Asian heritage would go to the point of throwing away all my kitchenware; I felt like this was a deliberate act, a direct attack on my identity.

My culturally based cooking traditions were not just about food; They were the strong thread that connected me to my family, my heritage, and my sense of self. The meals I prepared were a tribute to my generation; each dish was a story of our ancestors, flavored with the traditions I remembered. So when I found my pants empty, it was as if those ties had been broken.

This is the reason for the ongoing unrest. There has been a noticeable change in our home routine since my mother-in-law moved here. Caught between my wife’s love for the different flavors of my cuisine and her mother’s criticism, my wife found herself in an impossible middle ground. Despite his efforts, the harmony we once had had eroded, replaced by simple things that threatened the very fabric of our family.

His criticism was not new to me. He never missed an opportunity to show his disdain, his thoughts were repeated, from my eating habits to the aromatic plants that adorned our home. My husband tried to bridge the gap, explaining the richness and beauty of my culture, often falling on deaf ears, his words melting into the air without making any impact.

The day his pants were exposed shook my world. I realized that he would have ignored not only the materials but also my interests. His reasoning that this was because of what his son liked to eat was a complete rejection of my existence, my culture, and his son’s own choices.Faced with a difficult shopping task during the quarantine crisis, I returned home after a failed attempt at grocery shopping, only to meet her and nervously ask her about dinner. It was a moment of clarity for me; I felt like silence was no longer an option. His actions were not only an attack on me, but also a challenge to my place and identity in this society. I was determined not to let go of what he said.


With newfound conviction, I embarked on a culinary strategy that aimed to present my heritage in a way that could not be ignored. The mother-in-law’s upcoming event presented a good opportunity. Instead of the traditional American cuisine he expected, I incorporated the simple flavors of Indian cuisine into each dish and modified the menu to speak quietly but powerfully about my culture.

The answer came immediately and agreement was reached; guests were wowed by the unexpected taste, their praise, and the chorus of approval that filled the room. For the first time, my mother-in-law was forced to testify that my heir received my inheritance, which was against prejudice.

This is a turning point in the incident. The compliments of his guests made him reconsider his prejudices and convinced him once and for all that he hated his hatred. His resistance to ingrained prejudices and his realization that his son’s happiness was intertwined with his wife’s cultural acceptance marked the beginning of a change in our relationship.

Although the journey of acceptance and reconciliation is still full of challenges, my mother-in-law’s decision to move opened a new chapter in our family. It is a change brought about by fresh air, offering healing and the promise of the future.

Although painful, this experience reinforced the power of food to bridge cultures. She taught us how important it is to embrace diversity and how beautiful it is to pave the way for acceptance and respect by opening our hearts and homes to the stories and traditions that food can tell.

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