When I first met Linda, she took my hands, smiled warmly, and made me feel special. “You’re perfect for him,” she said, squeezing my fingers.
She welcomed me into the family when Jake and I married. Though we weren’t best friends, we shared laughs—like over that disastrous green bean casserole at Thanksgiving.
A year into trying for a baby, I was diagnosed with early ovarian failure. Devastated, Jake and I explored surrogacy—and our friend Cheryl volunteered to be our surrogate and egg donor.
At first, Linda responded graciously, congratulating Cheryl for this “biological anchor.” But during our gender reveal, she took over, placing Cheryl in the spotlight. When I tried to participate, she sidelined me, claiming Cheryl’s bond was “irreplaceable.”
At the hospital, Linda arrived with a photographer, orchestrating shots that featured Cheryl and Jake—me barely visible. She posted them on social media, calling them “perfect parents” and ignoring me entirely.
Cheryl later told me Linda had been texting her, praising their “chemistry” and downplaying my role as mom. When Cheryl jokingly asked if Linda was suffering dementia, I laughed—it was just exposure of Linda’s true colors.
The final straw came at Christina’s first birthday: Linda gifted a framed illustration depicting Cheryl and Jake as the family, with no sign of me. When I confronted her, she sneered that I was “just the babysitter.” Enraged, I demanded she leave. Jake supported me, telling her to take her gift and go.
That evening, my in-laws flooded me with messages, blaming me for ruining the party and shaming Linda—but I know I did the right thing.