I’m no longer living with my husband because of my mother-in-law. That morning, I realized I was dealing with more than just a desperate mother-in-law, and because my husband wasn’t ready to do anything to stop her, I just had to pack and leave the house for them. Maybe I will go back someday, but the way I’m feeling about my mother-in-law now, it might be hard for me to live peacefully in that house.

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It started even before we got married. And it is normal for a potential mother-in-law to say something like, “I can’t wait to see my grandchildren.” She said it so often that I told my husband, even before we got married, that we ought to return from our honeymoon with at least three babies or else his mother wouldn’t understand.

We got married and moved in together. She doesn’t live far from us—just one car trip and she’s in our house. She was always welcome, and whenever she came around, the first thing she would ask about was a baby. Not “How are you?” or how life has been. “I hope you’re working hard towards a baby?” she would ask. “A year by this time we should hear a baby’s cry in this house.”

Seven months later, there was no pregnancy. This time, she didn’t ask about it casually. There was a certain urgency in her voice, as if time was running out for something only she could see. She brought herbal mixtures. Sometimes prayer directions she said her pastor had given her. My husband always brushed her aside, but I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. When I asked him to talk to his mother to slow down, he said, “She’s just excited to become a grandmother, that’s all.”

She started spending days with us because, according to her, I was not taking the herbal boosters she had been giving me. She would cook them and ask me to take them. “Drink it early in the morning when you wake up from bed and at night before you go to bed for the action.”

I didn’t drink it. She gave me some that I had to boil and sit on. They came in different shades and forms. And the way she insisted on it made me feel like she was doing too much. A year walked by silently, but in my house it wasn’t silent because this woman never left me alone. So one early morning when she started her rants, I shut her down. I was frustrated to be greeted by the same frustration every morning. It turned into exchanges, but once I made my position clear, I stopped talking.

My husband asked me to apologize, and I did. “She’s only trying to help,” he told me. “Does it mean that when you get a child today, you won’t like it?”

After that altercation, she stopped talking to me, which I didn’t mind. It meant peace of mind, and it also meant no more herbal stupidity.

One night, several weeks later, I woke up suddenly. At first I thought it was a dream. The house felt strangely different, like the air itself had shifted. Then I heard a soft whisper. Someone was speaking quietly. I turned slowly toward the foot of the bed and a figure was kneeling on the floor. The room was dim, but I could clearly recognize the shape of the woman sitting there with her head bowed and her hands lifted toward the bed.

It was my mother-in-law. She was whispering prayers. “Father, remove every spirit of barrenness,” she murmured softly. “Open her womb so my son can have a child.”

My entire body went cold. I nudged my husband quickly. The moment he saw her, he sat up in shock. “Ma?” he screamed.

She looked up calmly, almost peacefully, like someone who had been caught doing something sacred. “Oh, you’re awake,” she said quietly. “I’m praying for you both. God has to do it this week.”

Our marriage was less than two years old, ooo. My husband climbed out of bed immediately. “Ma, you can’t just enter our room at this time! What for? Why can’t you allow us space to enjoy our moments?”

She didn’t look embarrassed. If anything, she looked slightly offended. “I came to pray,” she said. “You young people don’t understand how serious these things are. I’ve been in this room for several minutes. Not once did I see you touching your wife. How can you conceive?”

I stared at her, trying to understand how she could stand in our bedroom in the middle of the night and speak like nothing unusual had happened. “You were praying while we were sleeping?” I asked.

“For your fertility,” she replied calmly. “Some battles must be fought spiritually.”

The room suddenly felt smaller. All of a sudden I felt like I was dealing with a woman with a mental problem rather than just a mother-in-law. When she left the room, I told my husband to talk to her. Actually, I told him to stop her from coming to the house so we could have the peace of mind to enjoy our marriage. He threw himself on the bed and faced away from me.

But I wanted an answer. I wanted him to promise me he was going to take action. I kept nudging him to speak until he said, “Don’t take things out of context. She means well.”

From that day, I knew I didn’t belong in that house. I knew I had to leave for my own peace of mind or else this woman would push me to the edge and I might fall.

She left the next day, and we didn’t see her again until a month later. She didn’t tell anyone she was coming. She just appeared one late evening and asked why we hadn’t called to ask her to visit since she hadn’t come around for a very long time. She made herself food, bathed, and went to bed. All night I was suspicious that the woman had come with a new move. She was rushing as if she couldn’t wait for the night to fall. I slept with one eye open until I heard voices outside the room.

I saw her shadow moving up and down. She might have been awake just to use the washroom, but I didn’t trust that woman, so I kept monitoring her. Then I heard whispers like someone was praying. A few seconds later, she was quiet and then she walked off. Early in the morning, when I opened the door to walk out, I saw a white powder spread wide right in front of the door. The doormat was gone. Only white powder. If I didn’t want to step inside it, then I had to jump over it.

I called my husband. When he saw it, he burst out laughing. “What is funny? You think this is funny?”

His mother walked out and saw the two of us trapped inside our room. She said, “Walk over it for your babies. If you want twins, you can sit inside and drag your buttocks on the floor.”

I said in my head, “You are mad but yet to be diagnosed.”

It’s Not God’s Law For A Man To Apologize To A Woman

This was the last straw for me. My husband found it funny. It meant he wasn’t going to do anything about it. I packed a few of my things and left the house. He said I was overreacting. I told him he didn’t understand emotional issues, so he should live with his mom and make their own babies.

As I said, I may go back to the marriage again, but not until firm promises have been made and that woman is kicked off my neck. Who does that? And the marriage is not even two years old. What is all that for?

—Bruwaa

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