On Mother’s Day, my MIL Cheryl invited me, my two sisters-in-law, and herself for a “ladies-only” dinner. I’ve been married to Ryan for 10 years, and after years of failed fertility treatments and miscarriages, we decided to stop trying. Motherhood has always been my dream, but Cheryl never misses a chance to remind me I haven’t “fulfilled my purpose.” Still, Ryan urged me to go.

At the restaurant, Cheryl handed gift bags to Amanda and Holly, poured prosecco “for the mothers,” and left me with water. I smiled through the conversations about kids, even as the air grew heavy with reminders of what I didn’t have. Then came dessert: three lava cakes for them, fruit for Cheryl, nothing for me.

When the check arrived, Cheryl tapped her glass and announced that since I wasn’t a mom, it wasn’t “fair” to split the bill. She slid the $367 check toward me, calling it my “gift” to the real moms. My chest tightened, but I forced a smile and reached for my purse. Then I stopped.

“I have something to share too,” I said. “Ryan and I are adopting. We got the call this morning. A baby girl. She’ll be born tomorrow.” The table froze. Cheryl’s face faltered, Amanda gasped, and Holly set her glass down. I looked at Cheryl. “So this is my first Mother’s Day.”

I laid $25 on the table. “That covers my meal. Being childless doesn’t make me your wallet.” Then I walked out.

The next day, I held Maya in my arms. For the first time, I felt whole. I was finally a mom.