15April2025
Today I found myself once more caught between the demands of my family and the quiet life Id finally begun to taste. This morning Katie, my eldest, called with a weary voice. Mum, could you look after Max for a few hours? I need to swing by work to pick up some urgent paperwork.
I tried to explain to Margaret, who was thumbing through her planner, that she had a meeting with the editor at seven. Im tied up tonight, love, she said, her tone flat. Katies sigh was audible even over the phone. Youre always swamped, Mum. Hes your grandson, isnt he? Is work really more important than us?
Margarets jaw tightened. It was the same old guilttrip, a manipulation veiled as concern.
Later, Margaret reminded Katie of the warning shed given years ago: Having a baby with someone you barely know was reckless. You chose that path, and you own the consequences. Katies reply was chilly. So youve given up on us and the baby. Thanks for the support. The line went dead.
Margaret just turned fiftytwo, and only now does she feel she can finally exhale. After a bitter divorce she spent fifteen years juggling two jobs, raising two daughters, and denying herself everything. Five years ago Michael entered her lifea steady, dependable man who accepted her whole history without demanding the impossible.
The girls grew, earned their qualifications, and with Michaels help bought their own homes. Katie and her husband Dave secured a onebed flat; Lucy, the younger, a studio in a new development. Margaret landed a respectable post at a publishing house, enrolled in an Italian course, and began stashing away pounds for a longawaited trip to Italyher lifelong dream.
But at twentythree Katie married the first bloke she liked, and six months later had Max. Margarets cautions about rushing were ignored. Now Dave is an unreliable sort of fellow, working sporadically; money dribbles in only now and then. Katie is torn between the infant and a string of odd jobs, trying desperately to keep the household afloat. Since then Margarets phone has been a constant barrage of Katies calls.
One evening Margaret rested her forehead against the cool window pane, sighing at the relentless demand to sacrifice herself. Katie hinted at moving back in with her parents, arguing it would be easier for everyone. Margaret refused, pointing out her own plans, her job, her aspirations. The daughter wept into the handset, mourning the loss of her youthful freedom.
A week later Lucy, just out of university, announced she was pregnant. The father, a threemonth boyfriend named Tom, earned a living as a courier and lived in a shared houseno prospects at all. She burst into the living room, beaming, Mum, guess what? Tom and I are having a baby! Well have a little one soon!
Margaret felt the same irritation rising. Lucy, have you thought about how youll raise a child? Where will you live? A studio with a baby? How will you afford everything? Lucy fidgeted with the edge of her sweater. We have Toms spare room for now Well sort something later. Mum, youll help us, wont you?
Margaret placed her tea cup down with a sharper clack than intended. No, Lucy. You have the right to have a child, I wont object. But I wont bankroll your young family. Ive already bought you a flat and given you everything I could. Now you must manage on your own.
Lucys eyes filled with tears. How can you say that? Youre heartless! Im your daughter, and the baby will be your grandchild! Margaret replied calmly, Im telling you the truth. Youre both adults. You finished university, Tom has a job. If you chose to have a child, you must take responsibility yourself. My obligations are fulfilled. I have my own life, my own plans.
Lucy shouted, What plans? Nothing is more important than family! How can you be so selfish when your daughters are in trouble? She grabbed her bag and stormed out, leaving Margaret standing with her eyes shut, the weight of both daughters accusations bearing down on her. The family group chat erupted with accusations of greed and coldness. Katie posted long laments about how hard it was, how a mother should help; Lucy added that she never imagined her mother could be so indifferent.
Michael tried to comfort Margaret each evening, but the strain grew. Katie began dropping by unannounced with Max, pushing the pram through the hallway, leaving a note that shed be back in a few hours. Margaret tried to protest, but Katie was already hurrying down the stairs. Michael frowned, but said nothing. Lucy called in tears, begging for moral support, complaining that Tom didnt understand, that there was no money, that she felt lost.
Margaret felt cornered, as if she were a bottomless well from which they could endlessly draw. Saturday night was quiet; Michael and she had planned a simple film and to go over the details of their Italy trip. Then a knock at the doorhard, insistent. Michael opened it to find Katie, suitcases in hand, Max cradled in her arms, and Lucy trailing behind, eyes red from weeping.
Mom, were moving in temporarily, Katie announced without preamble, thrusting a suitcase into the hallway. Serge will bring the rest of our things later. Well rent out our flat and use the money. Thatll free you up to look after Max while I work!
What? Margaret froze. Katie, what are you talking about? We never discussed this.
Isnt it obvious? Youre my mother; you should help. Who else will? Katie snapped. Lucy waddled in, sniffing, Mum, we need money for a cot. We have nothing, Tom earns little, I cant stay on maternity leave, I need to work.
All the pentup fatigue and resentment burst forth. No, Margaret said sharply, stepping forward. Katie, youre going back home. Lucy, there will be no money. Thats it. The door shut behind her. Both daughters stared, stunned.
Are you serious, Mum? Katie asked, rocking a crying Max. You cant be
Absolutely, Margaret crossed her arms. I raised you, gave you education, bought you homes. Now fly the nest and make your own way. I wont be a cashcow for you or your children.
Lucy shrieked, Youre a heartless egoist! All you think about is Italy!
Yes, Italy matters to me, Margaret said evenly. My plans, my life. I spent twenty years living for you. What more could you possibly want? To have me nurse you until my grave?
The sisters exchanged glances, Katie snatched her suitcase and headed for the stairs, Lucy following. Their voices faded down the hallway, laced with contempt.
For a week there was radio silence. Michael told me Id done the right thing. Yet a knot of doubt lingeredwas I too harsh?
I later learned Katie did sell her flat and moved into her husbands parents cramped twobedroom, where she was constantly criticised and given endless chores. The motherinlaw raised Max as she saw fit, while the fatherinlaw muttered about the laziness of the younger generation.
Lucys plight came to my attention via a neighbour who saw her sobbing on a bench outside the block. Tom fled, packing a bag and disappearing. She was left alone, pregnant and penniless.
Back in the kitchen, I weighed my compassion against the firm decision to stop enabling them. I had given them a solid starteducation, roofs, lovebut how they used it was no longer my concern.
They kept calling. Katie cried about the motherinlaw, Lucy wailed that she was alone and helpless. I listened, empathised, but offered no financial aidonly advice. Yet they wanted solutions, not counsel. I kept refusing.
Michael and I finally booked three weeks in Italy, the trip we had postponed countless times. Before we left, I called the girls.
Katie, are you out of your mind? she asked, bewildered. What about us?
Youre adults now. Youll manage, I replied, looking at the suitcase by the door. When you learn to solve your own problems and stop treating me as a freestanding nanny and ATM, we can talk as equals. Until then, grow up.
Youre abandoning us? she whispered.
Im not abandoning you. You have the right to make mistakes. I have the right not to pay for them. I slipped on my coat. Ill always be your father, but Im not obliged to sacrifice myself for grownup children and their illthoughtout choices.
Michael waited by the car. I slid into the passenger seat, breathing deeply. I had finally decided to cease the guilt that had haunted me. I had given my children a good foundationeducation, shelter, love. Id offered advice, though it often went unheard. My mission was complete. It was time to think of myself.
Now, as the countryside rolls past, I picture Romes cobbled lanes, Florences galleries, Venices canals. I envision the freedom Ive earned. The lesson Ill carry forward is simple: love does not mean endless selfsacrifice. One must set boundaries, provide a launchpad, then step back and let the next generation chart its own course.
