My MIL Asked Me to Give Her Access to Our Baby Monitor So She Could Feel Closer to Her Grandkid – But Her Real Reason Made Me Go Pale
I grudgingly granted my MIL’s request to use our baby monitor so she could feel more connected to her granddaughter. Her charming texts initially gave the impression that it was innocuous, but her remarks soon became personal. It dawned on me then that she was observing me, not just the infant.
I had just gotten over giving birth when my mother-in-law called.
You know how it seems like a marathon to walk to the bathroom when you’re still painful everywhere? When my mother-in-law’s emotionally charged voice came over the phone, I was there.
As she remarked, “My heart is breaking that I can’t be there,” I could hear her sniffling.
Linda resides in California, while my husband and I reside on the East Coast. which, if I’m being completely honest, is quite advantageous.
Linda is a lot of things. My bandwidth is limited to sporadic phone calls and annual holiday visits, but I try my best to be courteous and maintain harmony. I doubt our marriage would withstand the proximity if we got any closer.
Linda went on to say, “I just want to feel close to that precious little girl,” Would you kindly allow me to use the baby monitor? It would mean so much to me to be able to watch her grow up even though I can’t visit much.”
I immediately felt bad about telling her that we had a webcam that streamed through an app.
I didn’t mean to come across as suspicious, but letting her into our nursery? All the time? Opening our front door and leaving it like way was how it felt.
However, my spouse gave me a soft grin and squeezed my hand.
“It’ll make her feel connected,” he muttered. “She just wants to see the baby, that’s all.”
I replied, “Yes.” It was okay, I told myself. Even sweet. Just a virtual grandmother attempting to connect with the child she is unable to see yet.
How foolish I was.
It was extremely lovely at first. “She looks like a little angel when she sleeps 😍,” or “That stretch she did with her arms??” were some of the things she would text me. My heart.
You know, it made me smile. At 3 a.m., while everyone else was sound sleeping, I felt almost seen, as if I were the only one witnessing this small miracle.
But then something weird happened.
She wasn’t merely keeping an eye on the infant, you see. She was also observing me.
For the third feeding since midnight one night, I had forced myself to go to the nursery.
I was half asleep, swaying back and forth in that zombie-like state that all new mothers experience while nursing in the rocking chair.
She texted me the following morning, saying, “Looks like you were up late!”
I felt sick to my stomach. Boundaries and Linda had always been, at best, distant acquaintances, but this was a whole other level.
That’s when I started listening.
I went through all of her texts looking for indications that she wasn’t simply having a cute long-distance connection with her granddaughter, but was also utilizing her baby monitor powers to investigate me.
A few days later came the next clue.
I was singing quietly to calm Emma’s fussing while I changed her diaper.
My mother used to sing me this melancholy tune. A mother-daughter interaction, private and sensitive.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.
“The song selection is intriguing. Don’t you always choose the depressed ones? Linda had sent a text.
Alright. Although I didn’t enjoy the comment, it wasn’t really a line-crossing statement, was it? That’s the kind of thing someone might say if they’d just walked into the room, and we knew she had access to the camera.
But I found the exact proof I was looking for less than an hour later.
My sister rushed into the nursery with her phone in hand just as I was putting the baby down.
“Have you seen—”
I abruptly interrupted her and pushed her from the room.
“You could knock, you know?” As I closed the nursery door behind us, I told her.
“It would be a waste of time to knock on this mess. Have you looked at Linda’s recent post?
“What?” As I adjusted my milk-stained robe, I queried. “What are you talking about, Sarah?”
“I was scrolling on Facebook when this popped into my recommendations.” She used her phone to show me the post.
It was a screen grab from the baby monitor that showed me nursing Emma while still wearing the same tattered robe.
The description made my blood freeze: “If my DIL wants to continue looking well for my son, should I advise her to get a nicer robe? I think this one has seen enough milk. 😳😅.
However, the nightmare was only getting started.
I accessed Facebook on my phone with shaking fingers. There was more than one post. Oh, no. She had been occupied.
“Some moms just don’t get how to soothe.” was the description for a screenshot of Emma sobbing.
In another, I was shown yawning and looked completely ruined. The caption read, “When you think a $400 baby swing will save your sleep but you still look like this 😬 #newmomlife.”
She even posted a picture of me reading next to the crib, saying, “Doesn’t look like bonding to me.”
Linda hadn’t been observing us with affection and want. To anyone who would look, she had been exposing our most intimate moments.
My hubby had to hear it.
I told him everything that night. He simply shrugged when I opened Linda’s Facebook page on my phone to show him the evidence.
He remarked, “She’s just being observant,” “It’s not that deep.”
“Not that deep?” I gazed at him. “She posted a photo of me breastfeeding and said I needed a new robe so you’d still find me attractive.”
“She’s probably just trying to be funny,” he replied. “We didn’t grow up with boundaries like that.”
Correct. This implied that my moments of breastfeeding were now public knowledge.
There was nothing more I said. He wasn’t actually listening to me, so why even bother? I decided to handle things myself instead.
I canceled Linda’s access and silently launched the camera app. I didn’t tell my husband what I had done, nor did I text her about it.
The following morning, the drama began.
A text message from my husband’s mother buzzed through his phone: “Is there a problem with my Nanit app? There is no loading of the feed.
He turned against me when I realized what I had done.
“You left me in the dark? She feels disconnected. You went overboard. It’s not worth ruining the family for this.”
“I didn’t realize I needed permission to stop being spied on in my own house,” I said.
“If it bugs you so much, why don’t you just talk to her instead of being so immature?”
“I tried talking to you last night, and you didn’t care,” I said.
After a heated argument, he stormed off to work. However, what should I have done?
I told Sarah everything when she stopped by later. I could see the wheels spinning, but she listened quietly.
Her words were, “Give me two days,” “I have a plan to teach them both a lesson.”
Our extended family received a surprise virtual game night invitation from Sarah via Zoom on Saturday night.
My mother-in-law, my husband, my aunts, and even my father-in-law all signed up. Everyone began talking about the game we would play.
Sarah then showed her screen.
She was using her browser to view Linda’s Facebook page, which featured a picture of me in my robe, looking tired and vulnerable.
Sarah gave the camera a charming smile. “We appreciate you all being here! We’re going to play the game “Invasion or Support” tonight.
The digital reckoning that ensued.
“This is a screenshot from the baby monitor that Linda posted on Facebook,” Sarah said. She read aloud from the caption. “Everyone, what are your thoughts? Is this support or invasion?
However, no one responded to her. Our faces were a gallery of wide eyes, red cheeks, and lowered mouths at the top of the screen.
Sarah said, “Let’s look at the next one,” with a smile.
Sarah asked everyone whether or not it was intrusive as she read the captions of each photo of Emma and me out loud.
Linda ended the call less than fifteen minutes later.
The fallout happened quickly. In a private message, my father-in-law said, “I’m very sorry. I was unaware of her actions.
At last, my husband saw the entire extent of what had been going on.
Speaking in a low voice, he added, “I… I didn’t know it was that bad,”
I made my new rule clear: “You can sleep in the crib if you ever grant her tech access again without first asking me.”
One feeble attempt at damage control was made by my mother-in-law.
She texted me to tell me, “It was just a joke,” “You’re overly serious about this. differences across generations.
I let her read. Not all lines are crossed twice. Not when it comes to my home, my child, or my body.
In retrospect, I see that my sister is the protagonist of this tale. My spouse was so eager to dismiss it when she held up a mirror, not only to my mother-in-law.
She demonstrated to them what invasion actually looks like when the family politics and justifications are removed.
Because love doesn’t take your weakest moments and use them for amusement.