A Cross to Bear
“If you’re asking questions like that, maybe you shouldn’t have children. And dont listen to anyone. I made that mistake once…” her mother sighed. “All those advisers vanish when its over, and youre left with a cross to bear.”
It sounded like sound advice, but Emilys insides turned cold and tight. A lump rose in her throat, her eyes stung. If she didnt end the call now, shed be sobbing into the phone. The worst part? Her mum probably wouldnt even understand why.
“Got it. Thanks, Mum. Ill think about it… Well talk later,” Emily said and hung up.
She pulled a pillow to her chest, hugging it tightly as she hunched over. This wasnt just adviceit was a careless revelation. She could almost feel the door to her past creaking open, everything falling into place.
…With her daughter, Margaret had been diligent, punctual. She ensured Emily always had the best meals, even if it meant skipping her own. Emily had plenty of toys and clothes. Though her mother raised her alone, she still attended music lessons and dance classes.
In short, Emily had everything. Except love.
Margaret never told her she loved her. Never hugged, never shared heart-to-heart talks, never praised. Come to think of it, she never even scolded. Margaret was utterly indifferent to her own child.
Emily remembered once getting a poor mark on a test, just like her desk-mate, Charlotte. Charlotte was devastated.
“Lucky you. You wont get told off at home. Ill never hear the end of it… If I dont text tonight, it means my phone and laptop are gone,” Charlotte sighed.
“Youre the lucky one. At least someone cares enough to tell you off…” Emily muttered.
Charlotte stared at her, baffled. Who in their right mind would *want* shouting and lectures?
“Lost your mind? If you want, you can listen to my parents nagging instead,” Charlotte scoffed. “Be my guest.”
Emily just turned away. Shed have gladly taken the scoldingbut her mother never checked her school diary. Why would she? Emily was a straight-A student. Until she wasnt.
At first, Emily thought if she was “good enough,” her mum would notice. Praise her for music recitals, top marks, dance performances. But no. Margaret reacted with cool detachment, as if it were only expected.
Emily faked being ill once, claiming a stomach ache. She wanted concern, care. It was wrong, but how else could she get attention?
It workedsort of. Margaret did spend more time with her. But Emily didnt feel comforted. Her mum dragged her to doctors until they diagnosed mild gastritis. Then came strict meal plans and a rigid medicine schedule. No warmth, no sympathyjust clinical efficiency.
So Emily went further. She skipped school, failed tests, quit dance and music, refused chores. Even snapped and backtalked.
Nothing.
“Fine, dont studyyour problem,” her mum said calmly one day. “Ill feed you till youre eighteen, then youre on your own. But if you flunk out, good luck finding work. Even shop assistants need basic qualifications.”
About chores, Margaret simply stated: no clean floors or bathroom, no going out. Emily tried throwing a tantrumher mum just pointed to the door.
“Save the theatrics for your room. I dont need tears and drama,” Margaret said, shutting her bedroom door.
No more tantrums. Emily cried half the night, feeling abandoned. Like she was just a doll to be dressed and put to bednot a person with feelings.
She pushed further. One night, she stayed at a friends without telling her mum. Would Margaret even notice? Maybe shed be relieved…
But no. Margaret called everyone, found her, and brought her home. Still no shouting, no reprimands.
“Keep this up, and youll end up with the police. They wont coddle youtheyll say Im unfit and send you to care,” Margaret stated coldly.
Emily almost wished for smashed plates, screamingeven a belt.
Over time, she didnt accept it, but she got used to it. Moving in with her fiancé, James, helped. Their relationship moved fast, and within months they were engaged. Starved for affection, Emily threw herself in blindly.
Luckily, James was decentsteady, with plans.
“What do you think about kids?” he asked long before the wedding.
Emily froze. Children were the logical next stepbut the thought of having her own filled her with dread. What if she was a bad mum? What if her child felt as she had?
“Im not ready,” she admitted.
But plans change. Emily got pregnantbad timing. They had no home of their own, prices rising faster than wages.
“Honestly? Most people have mortgages or nothing at all. They make it work,” her friend said after hearing her fears.
James wanted the baby too.
“Your call, but were married, things are stable. Id like to be a dad.”
Yet the more she heard it, the more she doubted. Finally, she asked her mumand heard what shattered her world. Had she been unwanted too?
And the worst part? Margaret said it without malice. Just stating facts. As they say, truth cuts deeper than lies.
For days, Emily shut down. She worked, cooked, watched films with Jamesbut mechanically. She couldnt sort her own feelings. Would she ever hear “I love you” from her mum? And what about her own child?
Desperate, she went to her mother-in-law, Eleanor. Stern but kind, Eleanor drew Emily in. Sure, she griped at modern fashion or dust on the shelvesbut it beat indifference.
“Emily? What brings you by unannounced?” Eleanor asked warily at the door.
“Just… visiting,” Emily said, voice trembling.
Eleanor didnt pry. She made tea, set out bread and jam.
“Theres stew if youre hungry,” she said, eyeing the fridge. “You and James not fighting?”
“No,” Emily bit her lip. “Its… Mum.”
The dam broke. She spilled everythingher childhood, the recent talk, the failed tests, the silent nights, the fear of being unloved, the guilt.
Eleanor listened, frowning. Finally, she set her cup down and sighed. Emilys stomach dropped. Had she overshared?
“Listen, love,” Eleanor said after a pause. “I knew things were cold between you, but not like this. Still… dont hold it against her, alright? I doubt she means harm. Maybe life hardened her. Maybe she just… cant love. But it could be worse. Margarets a bad mother but not a bad person.”
“Not bad? How can someone not love their child?”
“It happens. Some people dont even love themselves…” Eleanor sighed. “About the babyfollow your heart.”
“
