When my mother-in-law, Linda, begged for access to our baby monitor so she could “feel closer” to her granddaughter, I hesitated. We live on the East Coast and she’s in California—a distance that usually keeps her overbearing tendencies manageable. My husband assured me it was harmless, so I reluctantly agreed. At first, her texts were sweet—little comments about Emma’s stretches or sleepy smiles.

Then her messages became… personal. She’d remark on how late I was up or comment on the songs I sang while changing diapers. It was clear she wasn’t just watching the baby—she was watching me. The truth hit hard when my sister showed me Linda’s Facebook posts: screenshots from the baby monitor. One showed me breastfeeding in my old robe with the caption, “Should I tell my DIL she should invest in a nicer robe if she wants to stay attractive for my son?” Others mocked my parenting, my exhaustion, even my attempts to soothe Emma.

I confronted my husband, but he brushed it off as “just her being observant.” So I revoked her camera access without telling him. The next morning, Linda complained her app “wasn’t loading,” and my husband accused me of overreacting. That’s when my sister stepped in with a plan.

Two days later, she hosted a surprise family Zoom “game night” called Invasion or Support? She screen-shared Linda’s posts, reading captions aloud for everyone to judge. By the third post, Linda had left the call. My father-in-law apologized privately. My husband finally admitted, “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Linda later texted it was “just a joke.” I left her on read. Some boundaries, once crossed, are gone for good—especially when they involve my home, my body, and my child.