When my mother-in-law, Linda, handed me a “special gift” at my daughter’s first birthday, I braced myself. Ever since Jake and I had chosen surrogacy, I’d endured her subtle digs, but nothing prepared me for what was inside that bag.

Linda hadn’t always been this way. When we first met, she clasped my hands warmly and told me I was perfect for her son. For years, we shared laughter, coffee, and even inside jokes. But after my diagnosis of early ovarian failure and our decision to use Cheryl—our close friend—as surrogate, Linda’s attitude shifted. She praised Cheryl’s “special bond” with the baby and treated me as if I were an outsider.

At our gender reveal, Linda raised a glass not to us—but to Cheryl, calling her “the mother of my grandchild.” I stood by, invisible, while she orchestrated family photos with Jake and Cheryl, leaving me on the sidelines. At the hospital, it was the same. Linda hired a photographer, centering every picture on Cheryl holding the baby while I lingered in the background. Later, she posted them online, praising her son and Cheryl as “a perfect parenting pair.”

Cheryl grew uncomfortable too, confiding that Linda had been texting her about “parenting chemistry” with Jake. It was chilling to realize Linda didn’t even see me as Christina’s mother. Still, I wasn’t prepared for what came at the birthday party.

From the gift bag, I pulled a framed illustration: Cheryl holding Christina, Jake’s arm around her shoulders, the three of them on our porch—while I was erased entirely. Linda smiled sweetly and said, “You’re part of her life too, Mandy. Like the babysitter.”

That was the breaking point. I handed the gift to Jake, turned to Linda, and told her to leave. My husband backed me up, returning the picture. Linda stormed out, furious. That night, texts poured in blaming me—but Jake held my hand firmly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he said. “You protected our family.”