My MIL Cried All Day after My Mom Came over & Told Her She Knew Her Secret

Hope and Scott are fortunate to have their mothers’ help in raising Miles, their son. However, when the grandmothers begin to compete with each other, things turn ugly, and deep family secrets are revealed.

When Scott and I had our son, Miles, we were constantly told how lucky we were to have our mothers around to help take care of the baby.

“It’s such a blessing,” my boss said. “That way, you can leave Miles at home knowing he is well cared for, and you can have date nights with Scott. Keep the spark alive and all that.”

She wasn’t wrong. Having our mothers around did make it easier to leave Miles after those first few months of being attached to him.

But then, things quickly changed.

My mother, Evelyn, and Scott’s mother, Thelma, became competitive, each wanting the title of superior grandmother. So, they began to buy Miles expensive clothes and toys — each present aimed at outdoing the other.

Since Scott’s father passed away years ago, Thelma has had more time on her hands, so she often spends more time with Miles than my mother.

“It’s not my fault I have to look after your father and your brother’s children too,” my mother complained when she found out that Thelma had spent three days in a row with Miles.

“I’m not saying it’s your fault, Mom,” I said, trying to stay calm. “I just needed to catch up on work, and Scott couldn’t leave early. So, Thelma came to the rescue.”

“I’m sure she did,” my mother said bitterly.

After that, things only got worse.

Scott came home in a mood yesterday. I was in the kitchen, making dinner and singing along to nursery rhymes as Miles fell asleep, when my husband stormed into our home, his face a mask of confusion and anger.

“Hope,” he said, kissing Miles on the head as he lifted him from the baby carrier on the counter.

“I just spoke to my mom,” he said slowly.

“Oh, great!” I said, not thinking anything of it. “Is she coming over again?”

“No. She’s been crying all afternoon. What did your mother say to her?” Scott’s voice had taken a sharp turn, cutting through the joy of the children’s music playing through my phone.

“My mom?” I asked, stunned. “I don’t know what happened, just that Thelma was gone when I arrived, and my mom left after I showered.”

I left Scott in the kitchen with the food on the stove and went outside to call my mother.

I braced myself for something horrible — my mother has no filter and often speaks her mind, irrespective of whether it might cause trouble.

“Mom, what happened with Thelma?” I asked before even greeting her. “Why has she been crying all afternoon?”

There was a heavy pause, and my mother sighed deeply.

“I told her I knew the truth,” she said.

“The truth about what?” I asked, a knot forming in my stomach.

“That she’s not really Miles’s grandmother. She had no right to keep it hidden any longer.”

My heart sank. How could my mother say such a thing?

“Mom, what are you talking about?” I asked. “You need to explain everything.”

My mother sighed again.

“Come over with Scott, honey,” she said. “I’ll explain everything.”

Confused and apprehensive, we made the drive to my mother’s house. Scott, always respectful toward my mother, tried to be diplomatic, sure it was a misunderstanding.

“I think they just need to iron out their issues,” he said as we pulled up into the driveway.

My mother had a teapot ready. She had laid out biscuits and even sliced fruit for Miles. It was clear we were in for something serious.

She poured tea for us and began her story.

“Thelma isn’t Miles’s biological grandmother. She’s not your biological mother, Scott.”

My husband, usually so composed, looked as if the ground had been pulled from under him.

“How…how do you know this?” he stammered.

My mother went into full story mode. She told us how she recently met a friend from school who eventually became a doctor.

“When I told her about Miles and showed her photos, she recognized Thelma immediately. She remembered that Thelma had been one of her patients when she was trying to conceive.”

Scott’s face fell when my mother told him that Thelma could not have children and so had adopted Scott when he was just a baby, placed for adoption three days after he was born.

Determined to get to the bottom of the story, Scott insisted my mother get into the car, and we all drove to Thelma’s house. When we saw Thelma, it was evident she had been crying, her eyes red and puffy.

Amid her tears and heartache, Thelma confirmed the truth.

“I didn’t want you to love me any less,” Thelma said. “I feared losing you if you yearned for your birth mother.”

“You should have told me,” Scott lamented. “But I understand why you didn’t. And it changes nothing, Mom. You’re my mom, and you’re Miles’s grandmother.”

It’s only been a day, and I’m still trying to understand why my mother was so harsh. However, she did apologize, admitting she was simply jealous that Thelma got to spend more time with Miles. Surprisingly, my mother-in-law forgave her.

Thelma expressed relief that the truth was finally revealed — she had known she needed to tell Scott but could never find the right moment in the 36 years he’s been alive.

What would you have done in my mother-in-law’s shoes? Would you have forgiven my mother?

Here’s another story for you. Elizabeth, a 36-year-old wife and mother, navigates through a web of suspicion and secrets after her mother-in-law conducts a clandestine DNA test on her grandchild. The outcome? A revelation so startling it forces the family into a confrontation that will forever alter their lives.