This Birthday Gift from My Mother-in-Law Ruined My Life

The sun had barely risen when I, still ensnared in the early morning fog of sleep, shuffled into the kitchen. My routine was mechanical, driven more by muscle memory than any conscious thought: fill the kettle, find a cup, make the tea.

I was the tea-drinker in our home, while my husband, Michael, was the coffee addict. Grocery shopping often meant me trying new tea flavors and Michael trying to find the strongest brew for himself.

But it worked for us.

So, for my 30th birthday recently, my mother-in-law, Vivian, had gifted me one of my most prized possessions. It was a beautiful, delicate, and finely crafted tea set.

My mother-in-law shared my tea-drinking passion and had also attended a workshop on making herbal teas.

"Don't you want to come with me, Natasha?" she asked while I made us lunch one day.

"I'd love to," I admitted. "But weekdays are just too difficult to get away from work."

"Well, it's still two weeks away," she said. "There's still time for you to try."

I did try—Vivian and I got along rather well, even if she was a bit controlling at times. She wanted Michael and me to do things according to her timeline.

"Get married before Natasha turns 30," she said one day while Michael told her that he wanted to marry me and asked her for her mother's engagement ring.

"Ideally, you both should buy a new house straight after the wedding," she prodded when Michael and I decided on our home renovations—turning our backyard into a beautiful outdoor seating area.

"And have kids before I'm too old to enjoy them," she would constantly say.

But despite her timeline, Vivian was great.

When my birthday rolled around, Michael planned an intimate dinner party with our closest family and friends, which was when Vivian gifted me the tea set and two boxes of tea.

"What's this?" I asked, turning a box over.

Natasha's Blend it said on the boxes.

"I learned a few new things at the tea workshop," my mother-in-law smiled. "It's your own blend of tea! It has most of the flavors you enjoy, so it should be soothing and refreshing at the same time. If you like it, I'll always go back and get more."

It was one of the most thoughtful things I had ever been given. Even Michael smiled at his mother, acknowledging that he was impressed with her generous gift.

"That's lovely, Mom," he said.

"This is the best thing you could have ever given me," I said, hugging her while Michael brought the cake out.

And at first, I believed that. It was wholesome.

Until things started to get a bit strange.

The tea became my daily ritual. It was a small indulgence to begin my day. But then, I started to notice the changes—subtle at first, but a tightness in my clothes, a persistent nausea that I brushed off as stress or even a bug. Until it wasn't just a suspicion anymore, but a pressing, undeniable reality.

Michael and I were set to leave for Japan in two weeks—it was our trip of the year. Since we got married, we decided that we wanted to focus on each other and just travel and explore the world before we even thought about children.

"Forget about Mom's timeline," he chuckled when we discussed putting off kids for a while.

"Things will happen when the time is right."

I was absolute about my birth control — taking the pill before bed every night, ensuring that my period was like clockwork. It was a necessary precaution. Michael and I had other plans for life first.

But then, that morning, when I realized that we were two weeks away from our trip, I knew that it was time to see a doctor about my nausea and the impending doom I felt.

Sitting in the doctor's office, I waited for him to attend to me while flipping through a magazine and drinking my tea from a flask.

"Natasha," he asked, his brows furrowed. "What are you drinking?"

"Just some tea," I said. "Do you think it's causing my nausea?"

"I know that smell," he said. "But let's run through some tests first."

He did the usual routine check-up and then gave me cup.

"We've got to test your urine," he said. "I've smelt this tea before. It's not just a herbal tea, Natasha. It's a herbal concoction, sure, but it's a fertility enhancement, potent enough to bypass most contraception pills. Did you know that when you were taking it?"

My heart skipped a beat.

"I had no clue," I said. "It was a gift."

"Are you ready to find out?" he asked gently. "Do we need to call Michael?"

I shook my head and took the little cup from him.

I feared the worst. I didn't know how Michael would react to me being pregnant, especially after discussing it, and now that our trip was all planned out.

And what was this business about the tea being more than just tea leaves tucked into a teabag?

Did Vivian do this on purpose? Of course, she did.

"Pregnant," the doctor said a little while later.

My stomach did backflips. How could I have been taking birth control and still growing a human at the same time?

"Prepare Natasha for an ultrasound," he asked the nurse.

As I left the doctor's rooms and walked through the door, I found Michael sitting in front of the TV, drinking a beer.

"How did it go?" he asked, sitting up. "Tell me that you're not contagious."

I laughed along with him — nervous about how he was going to take the news.

"Not contagious," I admitted. "Just pregnant."

My husband's jaw dropped. I didn't know whether to ask him if he was okay or whether to run into the kitchen and throw the tea away.

But what good was that going to do? We already had a baby on the way.

Michael wrapped me in his arms.

"What?" he asked. "I thought we were being careful? Tell me everything!"

So, I sat down with my husband and told him everything that had happened at the doctor's room. From him sniffing my tea to the cold gel of the ultrasound.

"I cannot believe it," he said simply.

The confrontation with Vivian was inevitable. As she sat across from us, tea set sitting on the table between us, Michael's voice was steel.

"Mom, why did you give this to Natasha? Did you know what it was?"

Vivian's smugness was a slap in the face, her justification a cold reminder of the lengths she'd go to get what she wanted.

"I knew you were taking too long. I want grandchildren, Michael. It was just a harmless nudge. I didn't think it was going to work. And anyway, it's just tea at the end of the day."

But it was far from harmless. It was a violation, a deep, wrenching betrayal that tore through our home.

The argument that followed between Michael and Vivian was bitter, filled with anger and accusation. Listening to him speak made me flinch multiple times. Was it just his anger talking or was he revealing how much he didn't want a baby?

Anything was possible.

In the days that followed, Michael and I faced the hardest conversations of our marriage. We finally decided that we would cancel our trip.

"We'll go to Japan for our child's first birthday," Michael chuckled, cradling my stomach.

Despite Michael's anger toward his mother and the fact that she had forced our hand at having a baby — he was actually excited about it.

"I didn't think I was going to be," he confessed. "But maybe it's supposed to happen like this. Not everything has to be planned."

And while Michael was going on about the baby — making lists of potential baby names and the pros and cons of us finding out the gender early — I felt betrayed.

Sure, I was quickly getting used to the idea of having a baby. And I knew that Michael was right. Babies are hardly ever planned.

But the thought of Vivian's actions made me feel exploited. She had taken something that we had both enjoyed and had tainted it. Now, the thought of tea made me feel sick. I no longer found joy in my first cup of tea of the day. And even more — I didn't want to be around my mother-in-law.

"I'll make you some hot chocolate," Michael said when I told him that tea repulsed me.

Now, we're just waiting for our baby to arrive. While keeping a cautious distance from Vivian. I know that she's going to be a great grandmother, irrespective of how controlling she is.

What would you do in my shoes?

Here's another story for you | Rhea and her husband, Mark, have been trying to conceive for a while. Gradually, Rhea notices that her nightgowns and lingerie are going missing. After carefully reviewing the security tapes, she discovers who has been messing with her belongings.