When my mother-in-law handed me a “special gift” at my daughter’s first birthday, I braced myself. I’d endured subtle digs for months since using a surrogate, but nothing prepared me for what was inside that tissue-filled bag.Linda and I had once shared warm coffee chats and laughter. When I married Jake, she’d called me “perfect” for him. But after our fertility journey led to surrogacy—with our close friend Cheryl carrying the baby—her warmth shifted. She praised Cheryl’s “beautiful bond” with the baby while subtly excluding me.

At the gender reveal, she toasted Cheryl as “the mother of my grandchild,” even posing her and Jake for photos without me. I felt invisible, erased from my own life. Things escalated after our daughter Christina was born: Linda hired a photographer and posted pictures of Jake and Cheryl online with captions calling them the baby’s “loving parents.”

The final straw came at the birthday party. Linda gifted me a framed illustration—of Jake, Cheryl, and Christina standing on our porch like a family. I wasn’t even in the image. When I asked her why, she smiled and said, “You’re part of her life, Mandy… like the babysitter.” I told her to leave. And for the first time, Jake backed me up. Because sometimes protecting your family means drawing a hard line—even if it’s against your own.