I stared at her, thinking I’d misheard. What? Mom, I just had surgery yesterday. I can barely move. You’re moving fine. She snapped. I’ve seen you walking around. Stop your pathetic whining and get out. I felt like I’d been slapped. Mom, I can barely move. Let me at least rest so I can move properly. That’s when she did something I’ll never forget.

She grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back, her face inches from mine. You’re moving fine. Now pack your bag and stop your pathetic whining and get out. The pain from her grip on my hair combined with the agony in my abdomen from the sudden movement made me cry out. Paige started wailing, sensing my distress.

Suzanne, please get her out of here. My father called from downstairs. It’s making me uncomfortable. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was my father. The man who used to read me bedtime stories and taught me to ride a bike. Now he couldn’t even look at me or his granddaughter. You heard your father. My mother said, releasing my hair.

Cheryl will be here in an hour with Jaden. He’s 6 weeks old and she needs the quiet and space to recover properly. But mom, I said, tears streaming down my face. I just had major surgery. Cheryl had a natural birth 6 weeks ago. I literally cannot. I don’t want to hear it. she yelled. “Cheryl has always been more responsible than you.

She married Gregory right after college, got her degree, and now she’s given us a beautiful grandson. You waited until you were 26 to get married, and now you’re acting like you’re dying from a simple procedure.” The favoritism wasn’t new, but this level of cruelty was. I’d always known Cheryl was the favorite, but I never imagined they’d throw me out with a newborn the day after surgery.

With shaking hands and tears blurring my vision, I started packing pages things. Every movement was agony. Bending over to pick up her clothes sent sharp pains through my incision. I had to stop every few minutes to catch my breath. My mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me struggle without offering any help.

This is ridiculous, I said, trying one more time. I’m your daughter, too. I just need a few more days to heal. Cheryl is coming with Jaden, and that’s final, she said coldly. She called last night saying she was struggling and needed help. Unlike you, she doesn’t complain about every little thing. I wanted to point out that I hadn’t complained about anything, that I’d been nothing but grateful for their supposed help, but I was too exhausted and in too much pain to argue.

As I finished packing, I heard a car pull into the driveway. Cheryl had arrived. I managed to get Paige in her car seat and gather our bags. Walking down the stairs was excruciating. I had to grip the railing and take each step slowly, my incision pulling with every movement. Cheryl was in the living room holding her son Jaden and chatting with our parents like nothing was wrong.

She looked up as I struggled down the stairs with Paige in our bags. “Oh, good. You’re leaving,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Finally, I can have the room all to myself without your drama.” I stopped in my tracks. Drama? Cheryl, I just had surgery. She rolled her eyes. Please, you’re being so dramatic about a simple C-section.

I had Jaden naturally and I’m fine. You’re just milking it for attention like you always do. I stood there holding my crying newborn, bags falling off my shoulders, surgical incision burning with pain, and watched my entire family treat me like I was nothing more than an inconvenience. I’m calling Mitchell, I said quietly.

Good, my father said without looking up from his newspaper. Maybe he can talk some sense into you. I stepped outside into the cold morning air, Paige crying in my arms. I called Mitchell with shaking hands. “Hey, honey,” he answered cheerfully. How’s the first night going? I broke down through so I told him what had happened. There was a long silence on the other end.

They did what? His voice was dangerously quiet. They threw us out. Mitchell. Cheryl needs the room more than me. Apparently, I’m coming to get you right now. Don’t move. 20 minutes later, Mitchell’s car pulled into the driveway. He got out and saw me sitting on the front steps holding Paige and crying, surrounded by our hastily packed bags.

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