The author of this post has started a new blog, Not Well Adjusted, and has given permission to re-post this entry here. Go read her blog to find out more about her childhood and why she decided to become free of her mother.
I cut ties with my mother when my son was 2 weeks old. I couldn't take her constant judging, harassing, and demands anymore.
The beginning of the end started when my son was born. The plan was that my mother, who lives 12 hours away, would drive down after he was born to see us and meet him. His due date was great for her, because she would be finished with her volunteer work. Instead, he came a few weeks early. She said we'd have to wait 2 weeks before she could come. This sort of worked out well for us. Everything is HER way or NO way and she will make your life hell if you don't comply. The two weeks would help us establish a routine and such.
Two weeks rolled around. We found out my husband would have to leave for a week long business trip. Then my mother called and said my dad was also going to be out of town so she couldn't come visit. I guess it's too much effort to board a dog and ask a friend to check up on other farm animals so she could come meet her FIRST grandson. Instead, she offered to send a friend in her place. UMMMM NO! I'm not playing hostess to a semi stranger two weeks postpartum.
The next day I took my son in for his two week check up. Two things were going on. He was forcefully vomiting after each nursing/bottle session. On top of that we were supplementing formula because I wasn't producing enough milk. 45 minutes of pumping produced 2-3 ounces collectively first thing in the morning. I knew my supply was slowly dwindling and asked to do a weighed feeding. Lactose Intolerance was also suggested
After the appointment, I called my mother and told her how it went. I hadn't told her about the two issues.
"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOUR CHILD. ALL BABIES SPIT UP A LITTLE. YOUR BOOBS ARE PERFECTLY FINE. STICK ONE IN HIS MOUTH AND FEED YOUR KID. YOU ARE MAKING HIM SICK MY GIVING HIM FORMULA. MIXING FORMULA WITH BREASTMILK IS THE WORST THING YOU COULD EVER DO FOR A BABY. HOW CAN YOU SAY YOU KNOW WHAT'S BEST FOR YOU KID? YOU'VE ONLY BE A PARENT FOR 20 MINUTES."
All of the above started flying at me through the phone. Remember, she's never even met him or seen the amount of vomit coming out of him. The last two weeks had already been filled with her judgments about everything from where he was sleeping and how many times we'd left the house. SHE was stressing me out and that isn't helping for milk supply either.
The straw that broke the camel's back?
"THAT BABY IS NOT A TOY! CLOSE YOUR MOUTH, GROW UP, AND TAKE CARE OF YOU KID!"
I hung up the phone and haven't exchanged a word with her since. That was over two years ago and you know what, I've never been happier. This was a long time coming and I'm so glad it finally happened.