At Christmas, My Grandma Treated Me Like A Failure For Being Single…

Choosing a True Family

Amanda eventually responded, but her voice was unsteady.

“This is ridiculous. You can’t have a hidden baby without informing your family.”

“Can’t I?”

I asked.

“You held a secret baby shower and didn’t tell me. We seem to be on equal footing.”

“That’s absolutely different!”

Mom exclaimed.

“You are being unreasonable.”

“Am I?”

I swiped to another photo.

This image shows me in a bridal gown, standing next to a tall, dark-haired man with nice eyes and a pleasant grin.

“This is my spouse, James. We were married fourteen months ago. It was a lovely ceremony, modest and intimate, with only the people who truly care about us.”

Grandma Doris’s hand was definitely shaking now.

“Emily, how could you not tell us? How could you keep this from your family?”

The hurt in her voice may have moved me once, but not now. Not after years of being made to feel inadequate, as if I were a disappointment to the family.

I said calmly,

“The same way you kept Amanda’s baby shower from me. Similarly, you have kept me out of family decisions and festivities for many years.”

“You all talk about me as if I’m some kind of cautionary tale when you think I’m not paying attention.”

“We have never—”

Dad tried to object, but I cut him off.

“Yes you did, you all did. Every holiday, every family gathering is the same.”

“When is Emily getting married? When is Emily going to have babies? When will Emily obtain a real job? When will Emily stop being such a disappointment?”

I rose from the table, my hands remarkably steady.

“Well, congratulations. I did all of these things. I found love, I got married, I had a baby, and I established a thriving business. I just finished it without you.”

Amanda was crying now, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“But we are family. You should have told us.”

“Family?”

I laughed, which sounded sour even to my ears.

“Amanda, when did you ever treat me like family? When did any of you make me feel like I belonged here?”

I swiped to a different photo on my phone.

“This is from Lily’s christening.”

James and I were standing at the altar with our daughter, surrounded by his family, my college friends, and the individuals I had chosen to be my true family.

“This is Lily’s christening,”

I explained, showing them the photo.

“It was beautiful. James’s parents were ecstatic to get their first grandchild.”

“My friends gave me the most incredible baby shower. They decorated my apartment with handcrafted decorations and delivered thoughtful gifts that they had saved for people that truly cared about me, celebrated my life’s most important milestones.”

Mom was also weeping now.

“Emily please, we care about you. We love you.”

“Do you?”

I asked.

“Because love is more than just words, Mom. It refers to acts. It is inclusiveness. It’s turning up for someone even if they don’t meet your idealized image of who they should be.”

I placed my phone away and grabbed my handbag.

“I need to get home. My family is waiting for me.”

“Your family is here!”

Grandma Doris said frantically.

“No,”

I replied, stepping toward the door.

“My family is a man who tells me I’m lovely even if I’m covered in baby spit-up and haven’t showered in two days. My family is a tiny girl who brightens up when she sees me walk into a room, and they celebrate my accomplishments rather than questioning my decisions.”

I halted at the threshold, staring back at the four people who had influenced so much of my life in pain.

“For what it’s worth, I mentioned that I would have delighted to enjoy these experiences with you. When I discovered I was pregnant, I fantasized of phoning my mother.”

“I imagined Dad walking me down the aisle. I imagined Grandma Doris holding Lily for the first time. But you all made it abundantly apparent that I was not good enough as I was, so I found folks who believed I was perfect just as I was.”

The Mirror of Truth

The drive home was a swirl of tears and holiday lights. By the time I pulled into the driveway of the little house James and I had purchased eight months earlier, my phone was constantly vibrating with calls and texts from family members. I disregarded them all.

James greeted me at the entrance, Lily balanced on his hip. She instantly reached for me, chatting merrily, and I felt my heart return to normal.

“How did it go?”

James inquired, scrutinizing my expression.

“I told them,”

I murmured, holding Lily and inhaling her wonderful baby aroma.

His eyes expanded.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

We discussed this moment for months. James had been supportive of my desire to keep our relationship and Lily’s birth covert, especially after seeing how my family treated me at a few early occasions.

He’d noticed the subtle jabs, contemptuous remarks, and how they made me withdraw within myself.

“How do you feel?”

He inquired, throwing his arms around both of us.

“Free?”

I asked, surprised by the truth.

“For the first time in years, I feel free.”

That evening, while Lily was napping, I finally checked my phone. I had fifteen missed calls, forty text messages, and a few voicemails.

The majority were from Mom and Amanda and ranged from angry to desperate to imploring. There were a couple from Dad, shorter and more controlled, but as perplexing. Even some of my aunts and cousins had received word and were reaching out.

The first few texts were just what I expected. Amanda’s first text was a wrath.

“How dare you embarrass us like that? How could you be so selfish and vindictive? We’re your family!”

But as I browsed through, I could see the sequence of emotions unfold in real time. Her rage gave way to hurt, despair, and something that resembled self-reflection.

Mom’s messages were more deliberate, as usual. She had begun with disappointment.

“Emily, I’m very hurt by your behavior today. This was not the time or place for such an announcement.”