When I announced my pregnancy, my mother-in-law said, “get rid of it.”

The divorce was finalized when I was 28 weeks pregnant. Gideon called to say the judge had signed off on all the terms, including the child support amount he had negotiated up from Thomas’s initial offer and the supervised visitation requirements.

Thomas had to complete parenting classes and anger management before being allowed any unsupervised time with the baby. The settlement included the clause about Margaret never having contact without my explicit written permission.

Gideon said it was done and I was legally free from Thomas. I sat in my childhood bedroom after hanging up the phone and put my hand on my belly, feeling the baby move.

My daughter would grow up knowing her parents were divorced before she was born, but she would also grow up surrounded by people who loved her unconditionally. That seemed like a fair trade.

Margaret tried to interfere one more time two weeks later. Julie’s office called me sounding concerned and said someone claiming to be my mother had contacted them asking about my test results and due date.

The receptionist had been suspicious because the voice didn’t match the emergency contact information and the question seemed off. She had refused to give any information and reported the attempted HIPAA violation to Julie, who immediately called me.

I knew it was Margaret. She was still trying to get information about my pregnancy, still trying to exert control.

Julie filed a formal complaint with the medical board and contacted the authorities about the violation. Gideon used the incident to file for a permanent restraining order that would extend to my child after birth.

We went before the judge three days later with documentation of Margaret’s escalating harassment pattern. This included the letter violation and now the attempted medical records breach.

The judge granted the permanent restraining order and warned Margaret that any contact with me or my child would result in immediate arrest and jail time. Margaret’s lawyer tried to argue she was just a concerned grandmother.

The judge cut him off. “Concerned grandmothers don’t violate restraining orders and impersonate patients’ mothers to access private medical records,” the judge said.

I found a small apartment two blocks from my parents’ house and signed the lease the same week. Dad showed up with his truck and three guys from my prenatal class, including Cole, who had become a real friend over the past few weeks.

We carried boxes up two flights of stairs and assembled furniture while I directed traffic from the couch where Mom had parked me with strict orders to rest. Cole struggled with the crib instructions and we both laughed about how neither of us expected to be doing this without our partners.

The apartment was modest with worn carpet and a kitchen barely big enough to turn around in, but it was mine and nobody could tell me what to do here. I painted the nursery walls a soft yellow and hung green curtains Mom had sewn, creating a peaceful space that felt nothing like the cold perfection Margaret would have demanded.

Dad installed extra locks on the door and a peephole, practical safety measures that made me feel protected. By the end of moving day I was exhausted but satisfied, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and people who actually cared about me and my baby.

The Journey to Motherhood

At my 30-week appointment Julie’s face got serious when she checked my blood pressure. She took it three times and then told me the numbers were higher than she liked and I needed to come back in 2 days for monitoring.

The stress of everything had caught up to me physically and my body was showing the strain. She put me on modified bed rest which meant no work and minimal activity, just resting and trying to keep my blood pressure down.

Mom took time off from her job at the library to stay with me during the day, making me healthy meals and timing my blood pressure readings every few hours. Roman came over after his shift at the grocery store, where he bagged groceries and helped stock shelves, settling in to watch movies with me and keep me company.

He would bring snacks and tell me about his day, and his presence was surprisingly calming during a time when I felt anxious about every little change in my body. We watched comedies and he would laugh at all the jokes, his joy infectious enough to distract me from worrying about preeclampsia and early labor.

Julie monitored me closely over the next two weeks and my blood pressure gradually came back down to safer levels, proving that rest and support actually worked. My phone buzzed with a text from a number I didn’t recognize and I almost ignored it until I saw Thomas’ name in the message.

He had gotten a new number to get around my blocks. He was texting to say his mother was hurt that I wouldn’t let her be involved and that I was being vindictive by keeping her grandchild away from family.

The audacity of him still defending her after everything she had done made my hands shake with anger. I took a screenshot of the message for Gideon and then blocked the new number.

I was amazed that Thomas still didn’t understand that Margaret’s behavior had earned these consequences. She demanded I abort my baby, called my family defective, violated a restraining order, and tried to access my medical records illegally.

His inability to hold his mother accountable for any of it told me everything I needed to know about why our marriage had failed. He had chosen her over me and our child repeatedly, and now he was surprised I didn’t want her anywhere near my daughter.

I sent the screenshot to Gideon with a note about the contact and he responded that he would document it as harassment. Thomas would never get it and I was done trying to make him see reality.

Cole called a few days later sounding nervous and asked if I wanted to come to his baby shower that his sister was throwing. I hadn’t expected an invitation since we had only known each other a few months, but he said I was one of his closest friends now and he wanted me there.

His sister lived in a nice house across town. When I arrived with Mom, the place was full of Cole’s family members who welcomed me like I belonged there.

His sister hugged me and introduced me to everyone, explaining that I was Cole’s friend from prenatal class who understood what he was going through. She pulled me aside later while we were eating cake and told me she was glad Cole had someone who got it.

She meant someone who knew what it felt like to prepare for a baby alone after a marriage fell apart. She gave me her number and said to call if I ever needed anything, whether it was advice or just someone to talk to who understood.

The kindness from these near strangers hit me hard after months of cruelty from my ex-husband’s family. Cole’s family asked about my due date and my plans and seemed genuinely interested, treating me with warmth and respect.

I watched Cole open gifts and laugh with his relatives and felt grateful I had found this friendship when I needed it most. Mom and I started a childbirth education class at the hospital where she would be my birth partner since Thomas had abandoned that role.

We practiced breathing techniques on yoga mats while the instructor walked us through different labor positions. Mom held my hand and counted breaths with me, patient and steady through all the exercises.

During a break she told me stories about when she was pregnant with me. She told me how Dad had panicked and driven too fast to the hospital and how she had labored for 18 hours before I finally arrived.