My sister demanded I give her my baby when he’s born

A Miraculous Request and a Family Divided

My sister demanded I give her my baby when he’s born because she was meant to be a boy mom.

“You need to give me your baby when he’s born,” my sister Carly said cornering me in the kitchen and grabbing my arm like I owed her something.

I thought I heard her wrong since we were supposed to be celebrating. Just 10 minutes ago, my husband Zach and I had announced we were having a boy and now she was saying this to my face.

“You’re out of your mind. Why would you say that to me?” I asked her.

“I was meant to be a boy mom,” she said stepping closer.

“I’ve been dreaming about it since I was a little girl. The mother son bond, little league games, all of it.” I didn’t understand what that had to do with me.

And then she said it. “Instead I got stuck with a disgusting daughter who ruined my life.” She said it like she was talking about a piece of furniture she regretted buying, not her 14-year-old daughter.

“That’s your child, Carly,” I said, but she wasn’t listening.

She gripped my arm tighter and looked at me with these crazy eyes. “You have a husband. You can try again,” she said.

“Don’t you see, Enid? This is a miracle. I was meant to have your baby boy.” I took her hand off of me.

“I’m not giving you my son just because you hate your child.” She gritted her teeth and I could tell she was wondering why I wasn’t bowing at her feet and saying I would do whatever she wanted.

“You don’t even want to be a mom that badly.” Her voice cracked.

“I would cherish every second with him. But you—you didn’t even cry when you found out you were pregnant.” That’s when Zach appeared in the doorway.

And from the sick look on his face, I could tell he heard what she was demanding of me. His face went hard and he stepped between us.

“Get away from my wife.” Carly didn’t flinch.

“Stay out of this. This is a family matter.” “You’re going to leave,” he said, his voice low and steady.

“And you’re never going to speak to her again. Do you understand me?” She looked at him like he was an ant then passed him directly at my stomach.

A smile spread across her face. It was slow and certain.

“You can say no all you want,” she said.

“Doesn’t change what’s coming.” She turned and walked out with confidence like she already knew how this was going to end.

Zach grabbed my hand before I could follow her out. “We need to leave,” he said.

“Right now.” But I shook my head.

“That’s what she wants. She wants to blow everything up and make me look crazy. If we leave now she wins.” Zach looked at me like I was making a mistake but he didn’t argue.

We walked back into the living room and I knew immediately that Carly had told a twisted version of what just happened. She was curled into mom on the couch sobbing like someone had died.

Dad was standing by the window with his arms crossed, jaw tight, refusing to look at me. And Carly’s daughter Jordan was in the corner by the bookshelf pressed against the wall like she was trying to disappear.

The only sound was Carly’s crying. I wasn’t going to let her control this.

“She just asked me to give her my baby,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Those were her exact words. She cornered me in the kitchen, grabbed my arm, and told me I need to hand over my son when he’s born.” I waited for the shock, for the outrage, for someone to turn to Carly and demand to know what she was thinking.

Mom looked up at me. Her face was calm.

“We know,” she said.

She told us. “Okay,” I said slowly.

“And—and we think you should consider it.” I laughed because there was no way I heard that right but nobody else was laughing.

Dad was still staring out the window. Carly had stopped crying and was watching me through her fingers.

Even Zach had gone still beside me. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“You think I should consider giving my baby away?” “Not giving him away,” Mom said like I was being dramatic.

“Just letting Carly be more involved. Maybe even…” She paused choosing her words carefully.

“Maybe even letting her take the lead on raising him. You could still see him. You’d still be his mother but Carly would be his primary caregiver.” “That’s insane.” “Is it?” Dad finally turned from the window.

His voice was calm but there was an edge underneath it. “You work constantly. You’ve said yourself you weren’t even trying to get pregnant. You didn’t even seem that excited when you found out.”

“I was excited,” I said.

“I was in shock. There’s a difference.” “Carly has been wanting this for 14 years,” Mom said.

“She’s read every parenting book. She’s taken classes. She would be home with him every single day while you’re at the office.”

“I’m not quitting my job to prove I deserve my own child.” “See, that’s the problem,” Dad said.

“It’s always about you. What you want, what you’re willing to sacrifice. Have you even thought about what’s best for the baby?”

I felt like I was in an alternate universe. These were my parents, the people who raised me, and they were standing in this living room telling me to hand my son over to my sister like he was a borrowed car.

“What’s best for the baby,” I said slowly, “is being raised by his actual mother, not by someone who…” I stopped.

I looked at Jordan still frozen in the corner. She was staring at the floor but I could see her hands trembling slightly at her sides.

“Not by someone who what?” Carly said sitting up now.

The tears were gone. Her voice was sharp.

“Go ahead, finish that sentence.” “Not by someone who calls her own daughter disgusting.”

The room went dead silent. Jordan’s head snapped up.

Her eyes met mine for just a second and I saw something flash across her face. Surprise, like she couldn’t believe someone had actually said it out loud.

“That’s not—” Mom started.

“She said it to my face,” I cut her off.

“Just now in the kitchen. She called Jordan a disgusting daughter who ruined her life. Those were her exact words. And you’re telling me to give her another child?”

I looked at Jordan again. She was watching Carly now waiting to see how she would spin it.

I’d seen that look before on other people. The look of someone who’s been gaslit so many times they’ve stopped expecting anyone to believe them.

“Carly,” Dad said slowly.

“Is that true?” For a split second I saw something change in his face.

Doubt, maybe even concern. Like for once he wasn’t sure whose side to take.

Carly saw it too. She burst into fresh tears.

“I was upset,” she wailed.

“You don’t understand what it’s been like for me. 14 years of doing this alone. 14 years of wishing things were different and watching everyone else get what I wanted.”

She grabbed mom’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that. Jordan knows I love her. Tell them, Jordan. Tell them I’m a good mother.”

Every head in the room turned to Jordan. She was 14 years old and suddenly the entire weight of the room was on her shoulders.

I watched her face cycle through emotions. Fear, exhaustion, something that looked like hope dying before it could fully form.

“She’s a good mother,” Jordan said quietly.

Her voice was flat, rehearsed, like she’d said it a thousand times before. Mom relaxed.

Dad’s face smoothed over. That was all it took for the moment of doubt to disappear.

“See,” Carly wiped her eyes.

“Jordan understands. We have our difficult moments but we love each other.”

I felt something twist in my stomach. “You just made her lie for you right in front of all of us.”

“She’s not lying. She’s telling the truth.” “She’s scared of you.”

I looked at my parents. “Can’t you see that she’s standing in the corner shaking and you’re acting like everything’s fine?”

“Families are complicated,” Mom said.

“You’ll understand when you’re a mother.” “I understand right now. I understand that you’re watching a child get manipulated in real time. And you don’t care because it’s easier to believe Carly than to admit something’s wrong.”

“Don’t talk about my daughter,” Carly snapped.