When I married Toby, I felt like the luckiest woman alive. Not only did I marry the love of my life, but I also gained the most wonderful mother-in-law, Julia. From the moment I met her, she treated me not just as her son’s wife, but as her own daughter.
“I told you,” Toby would often say, smiling at me. “Mom loved you from the start.”
Julia was full of life, always bustling in and out of our home with boundless energy. She had a habit of invading our kitchen, claiming, “I just want to feed you guys!” When I insisted on cooking for her instead, she would laugh and wave me off. “Oh please, what else do I have to do besides meeting the ladies for drinks?”
So we cooked together, laughed together, and built a bond that was rare between in-laws. With my own parents living across the country, Julia filled that space in my life, giving me warmth and comfort that I hadn’t realized I needed.
After three years of marriage, Toby and I decided we were ready to have a baby.
“I think it’s time now,” Toby said one evening, taking my hand in his. “If you’re ready, of course.”
I was more than ready. I had dreamed of being a mom for as long as I could remember. But after months of trying, we had no luck. Each passing month brought more disappointment, and I began to fear that maybe having a biological child just wasn’t in the cards for us.
“What do you want to do?” I asked Toby one evening. “Should we keep trying?”
Toby nodded, his face determined but gentle. “Only if you want to.”
Torn and unsure of what to do next, I turned to Julia. She immediately sprang into action, taking me to meet a wellness coach, arranging fertility massages, and even buying us a brand-new mattress.
“Maybe your body just needs to rest properly,” she said as the delivery men carried it into our room. “You need to give yourself the best chance possible.”
That night, as we lay on our new mattress, I turned to Toby. “Do you think all this was necessary?”
“Normally, I’d say no,” Toby admitted. “But our old mattress was horrible. Who knows? Maybe your mom’s onto something.”
And, strangely, she was. Because not even a month later, I was staring at two pink lines on a pregnancy test.
“Thank goodness!” Toby shouted, lifting me off my feet in excitement. “Finally!”
We waited until the second trimester before sharing the news with Julia and the rest of our family. When we did, Julia cried tears of joy, hugging me so tightly I could barely breathe.
“I knew it,” she said, pressing a hand over her heart. “I just knew it would happen.”
Months later, our daughter, Maddie, was born. Julia was our rock during those first few weeks, helping with night feedings, cooking, cleaning—doing everything so that Toby and I could focus on our baby. It was the closest I had ever felt to her.
Then, one night, everything changed.
Maddie had a diaper blowout—one of those catastrophic messes that no amount of wipes could fix. I groaned, already exhausted.
“You sort the baby out,” Toby yawned, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll handle the bed.”
I carried Maddie into the bathroom, running warm water as she cooed, slapping her tiny hands against my face.
“Sweet girl, you love making life difficult for us, huh?” I whispered, smiling despite the mess.
Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Toby pulled back the sheets, then the mattress protector—only to freeze.
By the time I returned, Maddie freshly bathed and half-asleep in my arms, Toby was standing stiffly, staring at the mattress propped on its side.
“Oh honey, we can’t use this anymore,” he said, his voice tight.
I frowned. “Did the mess seep through to the mattress?”
“No. It’s not that.”
He looked so uneasy that my exhaustion faded into concern. “What is it, Toby? It’s just a mattress. We’ll clean it.”
“No, Larissa,” he said, his voice rising in alarm. “It’s not just a mattress.”
He handed me a small silk bag. Inside were dried herbs. My brows furrowed. “What is this? Where did you find it?”
“It was pinned under the mattress protector. Hidden.” His eyes darkened. “I think these are fertility herbs.”
My breath hitched. “No. That can’t be. Julia wouldn’t—she would never do that!”
“Then where did it come from?” Toby’s voice was eerily calm.
That night, we slept in the guest room—the same room where Julia stayed when she slept over. But sleep evaded me. I stared at Maddie, curled up between us, perfect in every way. She had my hair, Toby’s eyes. She was ours.
Yet, the timing nagged at me. Julia had given us the mattress. And shortly after, I was pregnant.
Could those herbs have worked? Was that even possible?
The next morning, I woke to the sharp scent of gasoline. I rushed outside just as Toby tossed a match onto the mattress. Flames roared to life, licking the fabric with unnatural speed.
“What are you doing?!” I shouted over the crackling fire.
“We couldn’t keep it, honey. We just couldn’t,” Toby said, his face set in stone.
Later, Julia arrived as usual, ready to make breakfast. But before she could, Toby spoke.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell us about the mattress? The herbs?”
Julia’s face fell. “I just wanted to help. You were struggling, and I thought that if it worked, you wouldn’t care how. I never meant to hurt you.”
“What else did you do? What was in the bag?” Toby’s questions came fast and sharp.
“Nothing sinister! Just dried herbs. I can even show you where I got them. It’s a wellness shop by my dentist’s office.” She turned to me, her eyes pleading. “I didn’t tell you because I was scared you’d think I was crazy. But does it matter? Maddie is here. She’s yours. She’s ours.”
I couldn’t argue with that. But I still felt betrayed.
Toby sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mom, if you ever do something like this again, you have to tell us. We need to know what’s happening in our own home.”
Julia nodded, her usual sparkle dimmed by guilt.
By the afternoon, Toby was browsing mattresses online while Julia baked us a tart. And I? I sat in the living room, holding Maddie close, trying to make sense of everything.
Maybe the herbs had helped. Maybe they hadn’t. But in the end, did it really matter? My daughter was here, safe in my arms. And that was all that counted.
