Little Timur started crying at four in the morning, and Yana woke up at once. The baby had been restless for the third day in a row, and the doctor said it was normal for an infant. Yana picked her son up, held him to her chest, and began gently rocking him. The baby gradually calmed down to the sound of her lullaby.
“What’s going on in here?” Galina Sergeyevna, Yana’s mother-in-law, burst into the room. “Is he screaming again? You’re holding him wrong.”
Yana did not even have time to answer before Galina Sergeyevna took the baby out of the young mother’s arms.
“This is how you’re supposed to do it,” her mother-in-law said, demonstrating another way to hold the infant. “His head should rest exactly like this, not the way you do it.”
“Galina Sergeyevna, I can manage,” Yana objected quietly. “Timur was almost asleep.”
“Manage?” her mother-in-law snorted. “The child cries every night, and you call that managing?”
Pavel, Yana’s husband, came into the nursery and looked at his wife reproachfully.
“Mom is right,” he said. “Maybe you should listen to how it’s supposed to be done?”
Yana felt the muscles at the back of her neck tense. Here we go again. The same thing every day. Her mother-in-law knew better how to feed him, how to hold him, how to put him to sleep. And her husband automatically agreed with his mother.
“All right,” Yana gave in. “Show me again.”
Galina Sergeyevna smiled with satisfaction and began explaining the proper rocking technique. Yana listened, nodded, and tried not to show her irritation. After all, her mother-in-law had raised three children. She must know what she was talking about.
In the morning, at breakfast, a new offensive began.
“Yana, what did you give Timur yesterday?” Galina Sergeyevna asked, spreading butter on her bread.
“Breast milk, as usual,” the young mother replied.
“And water? Dill water for colic?”
“The doctor said that until six months, he doesn’t need any extra fluids.”
Her mother-in-law set her cup down on the table with such a bang that Yana flinched.
“What doctor? That young little girl from the clinic?” Galina Sergeyevna shook her head. “Dear, I raised three children without all this modern nonsense. A baby needs water.”
Pavel looked up from his phone.
“Mom, maybe Yana can figure it out herself?” he suggested weakly.
“Herself?” his mother’s voice rose a tone. “She’s a mother for the first time. How would she know?”
Yana got up from the table and went to the refrigerator. Her hands were trembling with anger, but she could not show it. It would turn into a scandal, and then Pavel would say his wife was unstable and nervous.
“Fine,” Yana said. “I’ll buy dill water.”
“That’s right,” Galina Sergeyevna nodded. “The poor child is suffering.”
After breakfast, her mother-in-law went home but promised to return after lunch. Yana was finally left alone with her son. Timur was sleeping peacefully in his crib, and the young mother sat beside him and simply looked at him. How badly she wanted to just be a mother. Without instructions, remarks, and criticism.
But the peace did not last long. At two in the afternoon, Galina Sergeyevna returned with a bag of baby clothes.
“I went to the store,” her mother-in-law announced. “I bought some outfits for Timur. Look how beautiful they are.”
Yana unwrapped the package. Inside were toxic-green onesies with huge teddy bears on them.
“Thank you, Galina Sergeyevna,” Yana said. “But we already have a lot of clothes.”
“A lot?” her mother-in-law frowned. “And what did you dress him in yesterday? That pale-blue little outfit? It’s too cold! The child will freeze.”
“It’s twenty-four degrees in the apartment,” Yana objected. “Timur was comfortable.”
“I know better,” Galina Sergeyevna snapped. “Change him into the green one. Right now.”
Yana looked at her sleeping son. Wake him just to change his clothes? That was absurd. But her mother-in-law was already pulling the onesie out of the package.
“Galina Sergeyevna, maybe when he wakes up?” Yana tried.
“What do you mean, when he wakes up?” her mother-in-law’s voice turned cold. “I said now. Or do you think you know better than I do how to dress children?”
At that moment, Pavel came home from work. He saw the tense atmosphere and sighed.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Yana doesn’t want to change the baby’s clothes,” Galina Sergeyevna complained. “She says he’s fine as he is.”
Pavel looked at his wife as if she were refusing to feed her own child.
“Yana, just change him,” he said tiredly. “What’s the big deal?”
“He’s asleep,” Yana answered quietly.
“So what? You’ll wake him, change him, and he’ll fall asleep again.”
Yana silently went over to the crib. Timur was peacefully snuffling, his tiny arms spread out. So defenseless, so trusting. And the adults were already making decisions over him without even considering him.
The young mother carefully picked up her son. Timur stirred unhappily but did not wake up. Yana quickly changed his clothes and placed the baby back in the crib.
“That’s better,” her mother-in-law said with satisfaction. “The color is cheerier, and it’s warmer.”
Pavel nodded and went into the room to turn on the television. Galina Sergeyevna settled in the kitchen with tea and began explaining how baby clothes should be washed.
“Only with baby detergent,” her mother-in-law lectured. “And rinse them three times. Otherwise, the child will get allergies.”
“I know,” Yana replied.
“You know? Yesterday I saw you washing his clothes with regular detergent. The same one you use for your own things.”
Yana froze. Yesterday she had indeed put the baby clothes in with the regular laundry. But the detergent had been hypoallergenic. She had chosen it carefully.
“The detergent was suitable,” Yana said.
“Suitable?” Galina Sergeyevna shook her head. “Dear, the package has to say ‘baby.’ Otherwise, absolutely not.”
Yana wanted to explain that she had read the ingredients and compared them with baby detergents, but she realized it was pointless. Her mother-in-law had already decided that the young mother did everything wrong.
The following days turned into an endless stream of remarks. Yana fed the baby at the wrong time. Yana held the bottle incorrectly. Yana dressed the baby too warmly. Or, on the contrary, too lightly. Yana bathed him wrong, put him to sleep wrong, spoke to him wrong.
“You’re baby-talking to him,” Galina Sergeyevna said on the fourth day. “Children should hear normal speech, not that nonsense.”
Yana had just been singing a lullaby to six-month-old Timur. The baby looked at his mother and smiled a toothless smile.
“He likes the song,” Yana objected.
“Likes it?” her mother-in-law snorted. “He doesn’t understand anything yet. Speak normally. ‘Timur, it’s time to eat.’ Like that.”
“Galina Sergeyevna, the doctor said affectionate speech is good for development.”
“Your doctor again!” her mother-in-law’s hand jerked, and she nearly dropped her cup. “What does that doctor know? She’s still wet behind the ears, and she’s already teaching everyone.”
Pavel raised his head from the newspaper.
“What are you arguing about?” he asked.
“Yana is doing everything her own way again,” Galina Sergeyevna complained. “I’m explaining how to do it properly, and she keeps quoting that doctor of hers.”
Her husband looked at his wife reproachfully.
“Mom raised three children,” Pavel said. “Maybe you should listen to her?”
Yana felt her fists clench. Again. Always the same. Whatever happened, her husband took his mother’s side. Without even listening to what the issue was.
“All right,” Yana said quietly. “I’ll speak normally.”
Galina Sergeyevna nodded with satisfaction and began explaining the proper daily routine for an infant. According to her mother-in-law, the baby had to be fed strictly by the clock, not on demand. Timur had to sleep exactly four times a day. And walks had to be only in the stroller—no slings or carriers.
“Those modern gadgets are harmful,” Galina Sergeyevna said. “They’ll bend his spine.”
Yana listened and nodded. But inside, her exhaustion kept growing. Not physical exhaustion—she was managing the baby quite well. It was emotional exhaustion from constant control and criticism. Every decision was discussed, challenged, and eventually changed to the opposite.
Worst of all, Pavel did not notice any of it. To him, his mother was simply helping the young family. Giving advice, sharing experience. He did not see that his wife was gradually turning into someone who merely carried out someone else’s orders.
“Maybe we should figure things out ourselves?” Yana tried one evening after her mother-in-law had gone home.
“Figure out what?” Pavel asked without looking away from the television.
“How to care for Timur. We’re his parents.”
“Well, yes. So?”
“I want to make decisions about my own child myself.”
Only then did her husband turn toward her.
“What, is Mom getting in the way?” Pavel asked in surprise. “On the contrary, she’s helping. She has a huge amount of experience.”
“But he is our son,” Yana insisted. “And I want to learn motherhood myself, not just follow someone else’s instructions.”
Pavel frowned.
“Listen, don’t be selfish,” he said. “Mom worries about her grandson. She wants everything to be done right.”
“And I don’t worry?”
“You do. But you don’t have experience.”
Yana got up from the sofa and went into the nursery. Timur was sleeping sweetly, hugging a plush bunny. The young mother sat beside the crib and quietly began to cry. For the first time in many days, she allowed herself to be weak.
She had dreamed of motherhood. She had imagined feeding, bathing, and playing with her baby. She had imagined learning to understand his needs, developing her intuition. But it had turned out the opposite. Yana had become nothing more than hands carrying out someone else’s decisions.
The next day, Galina Sergeyevna arrived with a new idea.
“Yana, have you bought Timur any toys?” her mother-in-law asked.
“We have a few rattles,” the young mother replied.
“Rattles?” her mother-in-law threw up her hands. “That’s not enough! A child needs development. I saw wonderful educational toys in the store.”
“Galina Sergeyevna, Timur is three months old. It’s too early for complicated toys.”
“Too early?” her mother-in-law’s voice grew sharp. “It’s never too early! The earlier you start developing him, the smarter the child will be.”
Pavel entered the room after hearing the raised voices.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Yana doesn’t want to develop her own son,” Galina Sergeyevna complained. “She says it’s too early for toys.”
Pavel looked at his wife in confusion.
“Why is it too early?” he asked. “Mom is explaining that he needs development.”
Yana felt something inside her tighten into a knot. Again and again, the same thing. Her mother-in-law invented rules, her husband automatically supported her, and the young mother was forced to obey.
“Enough,” Yana said quietly. “Galina Sergeyevna, I’m asking you to leave the apartment.”
Her mother-in-law froze with her mouth open. Pavel blinked in confusion.
“What do you mean, leave?” Galina Sergeyevna asked.
“Exactly what I said. Don’t come here anymore without an invitation.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Pavel jumped up. “That’s my mother!”
“And this is my home,” Yana answered calmly. “And Timur is my son. No one will tell me anymore how to raise my own child.”
Galina Sergeyevna turned pale with outrage.
“You ungrateful girl!” her mother-in-law hissed. “I taught you, helped you, and you—”
“Helped?” Yana raised an eyebrow. “You controlled my every step. You decided for me what to give my son to eat, what to dress him in, how to put him to sleep. That isn’t help. That’s a takeover.”
Pavel looked back and forth between his wife and his mother, confused.
“Yana, you’re misunderstanding,” he tried. “Mom really wanted to help.”
“Helping means offering and stepping back if the person says no. Not insisting and criticizing.”
Galina Sergeyevna grabbed her handbag.
“Fine!” her mother-in-law snapped. “We’ll see how you manage without me. Just don’t call later when something happens.”
Yana walked her mother-in-law to the door and locked it behind her. Pavel stood in the middle of the room with an offended look on his face.
“Why did you treat Mom like that?” he asked. “The woman is trying. She worries about her grandson.”
“And I don’t?” Yana sat down wearily on the sofa. “Pavel, don’t you see? Your mother has turned me into a servant. I’m not a mother to my child. I’m an executor of someone else’s orders.”
Her husband was silent for several minutes, then went to call his mother. Yana heard fragments of the conversation from the hallway. Pavel apologized, assured her everything would be fixed, and asked her not to be offended.
The next three days were surprisingly peaceful. Yana decided for herself when to feed Timur, what to dress him in, what toys to give him. The baby seemed calmer without the constant changing of clothes and shifting of his routine.
But on the fourth day, the peace ended.
Pavel came home from work angry and went straight into the bathroom, where Yana was bathing their son.
“Mom called yesterday,” he said. “She was crying. She says you hurt her.”
“I defended my boundaries,” Yana replied without taking her eyes off the baby.
“What boundaries?” Pavel’s voice grew sharper. “This is family! Mom has the right to be involved in raising her grandson.”
“To be involved, yes. To command, no.”
Her husband clenched his fists.
“You know what,” Pavel said. “Tomorrow Mom is coming over. And you’re going to apologize.”
Yana slowly turned toward her husband.
“No,” the young mother said clearly. “She is not coming, and I am not apologizing.”
“Oh, she is coming!” Pavel roared. “This is my home too!”
“But decisions about the child are made by me.”
Her husband slammed the door and left. Yana stayed alone with her son, who was peacefully splashing in the little bathtub. Timur smiled and happily slapped the water with his hands.
The next day, Pavel really did bring his mother. Galina Sergeyevna entered with a stony face and did not even greet her daughter-in-law.
“Well? Have you come to your senses?” her mother-in-law asked.
“No,” Yana answered curtly.
Pavel and Galina Sergeyevna exchanged glances. Her husband cleared his throat and sat down across from his wife.
“Yana, Mom and I talked,” Pavel began. “And we decided this can’t go on.”
“I agree,” Yana nodded. “That’s why I’m asking you to leave.”
“We’re not going anywhere!” Galina Sergeyevna said sharply. “On the contrary, it’s time to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”
Her mother-in-law sat beside her son and looked at Yana with a cold stare.
“Do you think you have the right to forbid a grandmother from seeing her grandson?” Galina Sergeyevna continued. “Well, we think you are an unfit mother.”
Yana blinked in surprise.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me,” her mother-in-law said calmly, but there was steel in her voice. “Nervous, unstable, unable to care for a child. Do you think child protective services wouldn’t be interested in such facts?”
Yana’s heart skipped a beat. Was her mother-in-law seriously threatening to take her child away?
“Galina Sergeyevna, what are you saying?” the young mother asked quietly.
“I’m telling the truth,” her mother-in-law replied unflappably. “I have witnesses that you feed the child incorrectly, dress him inappropriately for the weather, and don’t follow medical recommendations.”
Pavel nodded in support of his mother.
“Mom is right,” her husband said. “You really do everything your own way and don’t listen to advice.”
Yana looked at her husband with wide eyes. Was Pavel actually supporting threats to take away his own son?
“Are you serious?” Yana asked him.
“Absolutely,” Pavel answered. “And one more thing. If you don’t apologize to Mom and promise to follow her advice, I’ll file for divorce.”
“And we’ll keep the child,” Galina Sergeyevna added. “At least we’ll raise him properly.”
Yana slowly stood up from the sofa. Her mind suddenly became clear. So that was it. They were threatening her with divorce and with taking her son away. They had united against the young mother and decided to break her will with blackmail.
“I see,” Yana said calmly.
Pavel and Galina Sergeyevna exchanged pleased glances. Apparently, they had decided they had frightened the daughter-in-law and that now she would obey completely.
“That’s a good girl,” her mother-in-law nodded approvingly. “The main thing is to understand that elders know better.”
Yana walked to the front door and flung it wide open.
“You still dare to threaten me in my own home?” the young mother’s voice became as firm as steel. “Get out, both of you! Immediately!”
Pavel and Galina Sergeyevna stared at Yana in shock.
“What are you doing?” her husband asked, bewildered.
“Protecting my son and my rights,” Yana said clearly. “No one, do you hear me, no one will threaten me with losing my child. Especially not in my own apartment.”
“You’ve lost your mind!” Galina Sergeyevna shouted. “We wanted what was best for you!”
“What was best?” Yana smiled coldly. “You wanted to turn me into a puppet. And when that didn’t work, you decided to scare me with threats to take my son away.”
Yana picked up her mother-in-law’s handbag and held it out to her.
“Galina Sergeyevna, I don’t want to see you in this home anymore. When you learn to respect a mother’s boundaries, then we can talk about visits with your grandson.”
Her mother-in-law snatched the handbag and ran out of the apartment, slamming the entrance door loudly behind her.
Pavel stood in the hallway, not knowing what to do.
“Yana, do you understand what you’ve done?” her husband asked in confusion.
“I do. I protected my child from psychological abuse,” the young mother replied. “And now you decide. Either you are my husband and Timur’s father, or you are Mommy’s little boy. There is no third option.”
Yana closed the door and turned the key in the lock. From the nursery came the peaceful sound of her son’s breathing. For the first time in many weeks, the young mother felt like a mother. The one who made decisions about her own child and did not allow anyone to challenge those rights.
“The apartment is not yours. You haven’t even hammered a single nail into it!” the wife said. “So forget it. The only thing you’ll be dividing is your socks—and even then, only if I allow it.”