“Is mine worse than yours?”
“What, does she have chickenpox? Are you mad? I’m pregnant!”
“Relax! She hasnt had a fever for three days. The doctor said shes not contagious anymore.”
Emma stood frozen in the doorway of the living room. She took a step back, putting distance between herself and the makeshift infirmary. Theyd only arrived at her mother-in-laws five minutes ago, and already she wanted to bolt.
On the sofa sat Theresa, smiling as if nothing were wrong. Beside her on the floor, four-year-old Poppy fidgeted in unicorn-patterned pyjamas. Her sister-in-laws daughter was speckled green like a leopard.
“Relax? Do you even realise Ive never had chickenpox? Do you know how dangerous it is for the baby? Why didnt anyone warn me?” Emma spun toward the exit.
“Em, youre already here,” Theresa said placatingly, as if that settled it. “You might as well stay.”
“If Id known, I wouldnt have come!” Emma snapped, yanking on her boots.
She threw on her coat outside, refusing to linger another second. The last thing she needed at eight months pregnant was surprises like this. Her husband scrambled after her.
The whole drive home, Emma cursed herself. She knew how reckless her in-laws were about health. And yet shed gone anyway.
…The first red flag had been when her sister-in-law, Laura, brought her sick daughter over unannounced. Emma had brushed it off thenshe wasnt pregnant at the time. Still, it left a bad taste.
Worse was when she caught the bug two days later. She worked from home, so there was no doubt where it came from. Feverish and miserable, she missed deadlines, earning a scolding from her boss. Just as orders piled up, she was laid low, forced to work through it.
“Sorry,” Laura shrugged when confronted. “Didnt realise your immune system was so weak.”
She spoke like it wasnt her faultas if the problem was Emma. That stung most of all.
Laura treated everyone with the same carelessness. She often dropped Poppy off at nursery while she was ill.
“Theyre kids. If mine starts coughing, the rest are already sick anyway. I cant afford sick days,” Laura huffed when the nursery worker scolded her.
She never learned. Why would she? It wasnt her problem. Others suffered instead.
Miraculously, Emma avoided chickenpox, and little Oliver was born healthy. But she resolved then to protect herself and her son. She “accidentally” mixed up hospital dates, only allowing her own mother to visit.
“Em, hows Oliver? When can we meet our grandson?” Theresa fretted over the phone.
“Not sure. The doctor advised keeping him isolatedhis immune systems weak,” Emma lied. “Were not even taking him outside yet, let alone having guests.”
She dodged visits with every excuse imaginableplaying the fool, inventing emergencies, feigning illness. Anything to keep sniffly Poppy away.
Then Laura showed up uninvited. Emma opened the door on autopilot, and the damage was done. Sniffling but beaming, Poppy darted straight for the nursery.
“We thought wed pop round for tea,” Laura chirped. “Poppys been begging to see her little cousin. Kids love playing with babies, dont they?”
Emmas eyebrow twitched. Every instinct screamed to toss them both out, but she held back.
“Poppys sick again?” Emma crossed her arms.
“Kids are always poorly,” Laura hedged. “Its just allergies. And they need to get illbuilds immunity.”
“Right…” Emma drawled.
She shooed them out after half an hour, claiming they were “off to meet Dad from work.” But it was too late. Two days later, Olivers fever spiked to 40°C, seizures followed, and that night was pure hell. Emma blamed herselfshe shouldve slammed the door.
Enough was enough.
“No more. Thats it. No more snotty little Poppys in this house,” she told her husband.
“Em, its not Poppys fault…” he tried. “Shes just a kid.”
“I know. But the sight of her gives me a twitch. Shes a walking germ factory. Every time shes here, something happens. So, no.”
He stayed silent. She could tell he hated it, but she didnt care. She hated fearing for her son.
Still, avoiding them entirely was impossible. Skipping Christmas at Theresas or claiming they were away for Mothers Day was one thingbut banning them from Olivers birthday was harder.
“I invited Mum and Laura,” her husband admitted cautiously the night before. “Theyll be here by five.”
Emma froze, sponge in hand. She turned slowly, glaring.
“I told youno invitations!”
“Come on, theyre family. I asked if Poppy was illLaura said no. How could I say no? Your mums coming too! Or is mine worse than yours?”
Emma pressed her lips together. Fine. Shed let it slide. Maybe things had changed?
They hadnt.
This time, Poppy wasnt coughingjust listless, sitting apart, unusually quiet.
“Poppys alright?” Emma asked Laura quietly.
“Her throat was sore this morning. Gave her medicineshes better now,” Laura said breezily.
Emma inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to scream. But she couldnt stay silent.
“Laura, your sick kids wearing us out. Every visit ends with doctors.”
“Oh, let him get ill!” Laura waved her off. “Hell catch it at nursery anyway. At least this way hell adapt faster.”
Emma stared, dumbfounded.
“So I should thank you?”
“Not thank me, but youre overreacting. All kids get poorlyits normal.”
“Not like this. Yes, kids get illbut you dont go spreading germs on purpose!”
The party soured. No one left the table, but the mood was ruined. So was the weekthree days later, Emma was dosing Oliver with syrup again.
Surely that was the end? Even her husband saw sense now.
Nope.
On the 30th, he stormed in, flung his keys down, and locked himself in the lounge.
“You alright?” Emma called through the door.
“Stay outkeep Oliver away,” he muttered. “I was at Lauras. She asked me to help assemble Poppys New Years bike.”
A pause. Emma knew what was coming.
“And?”
“Theres a norovirus outbreak at her nursery. She told me after Id been there two hours…”
…They rang in the New Year with buckets, not champagne. While others watched the countdown, their house stayed silent, the telly off, the buffet untouched.
“Look, I cant do this. Im exhaustedscared for Oliver, scared for you. No more visits. Phone calls only, alright?”
“Alright,” he sighed.
This time, he meant it. Finally, he understoodfamily shouldnt put your child at risk for their own convenience. Even if “all kids get ill.”
