**Diary Entry: A Mothers Burden**
“Youre a wretched mother, thats what you are!” My mother-in-laws voice crackled down the line. “Dumping your daughter and her baby on me like a sack of unwanted kittensand you dare call yourself a parent?”
Emma clenched her jaw. Shed barely slept four hours a night all week, picked up extra shifts at work, and shouldered the sudden weight of her fractured family. And now she was expected to justify herself?
“Margaret,” she said, her voice steady, “my chick is a grown woman. She flaunted her independence like a bannernow let her live with it. I warned her, but she wouldnt listen. So let her figure it out.”
She hung up. There was no reasoning with them. To the rest of the family, she was now the villain. And she was too exhausted to care.
It hadnt always been this way. Once, Emma had been alone too. Her mother passed when she was eighteen, and by nineteen, her husband was gone. Only little Sophie remained.
“Hold on, love. Im here. Call if you need anything,” Margaret had said back then.
But calls were all she ever offered.
“Emma, darling, Id help if I could, but Im worn out myself,” Margaret would sigh whenever Emma begged her to watch Sophie for just one weekend.
Money? Never. Not from Margaret, not from any of them. Sympathy poured freely, but only in words.
Emma managed. Some nights, she howled at the moon from sheer exhaustion, but she survived. She knew better than anyone what it meant to be a single mother.
So when Sophie started seeing that lad, Daniel, at sixteen, Emmas stomach knotted. Daniel had a reputationa troublemaker, ran with a rough crowd, and already dabbled in things the law frowned upon.
At first, Emma tried to talk sense into Sophie. “There are better boys out there, love.”
But Sophie wouldnt hear it.
“You dont understand! I love him!” shed wail, even when Emma spoke calmly.
Emma couldnt fathom where this love came from. Daniels idea of romance was plastic roses on Valentines Day and the occasional reckless motorbike ride through town. One such ride stretched late into the night, Sophie ignoring Emmas frantic calls. She stumbled in past ten.
Emma, of course, had been awakeand the row that followed rattled the walls.
“Have you lost your mind? I was this close to ringing the police! Next time, Ill thrash the pair of you! Hand over your keys and get to your room. Youre not stepping out tomorrow.”
Sophie didnt even look guilty.
“Im keeping my keys! You cant lock me up like a prisoner! Im an adultIll go where I please. Try stopping me, and Ill report you instead.”
Emmas eyes widened at the sheer audacity, but she kept her temper.
“Youll be an adult at eighteen. Until then, Im responsible for you.”
That day, Emma realised: Sophie knew every one of her rights but refused to acknowledge a single duty. She wanted freedomjust not the kind that came with consequences.
“Youre a terrible mother!” Sophie spat during another row.
*Yes. Terrible. A good mother wouldnt have raised a daughter like you.* The thought stung. Emma had failed somewhere. But how could it be different when she worked two jobs just to keep a roof over their heads?
When Sophie announced her pregnancy, Emma felt another grey hair sprout. The girl had barely started universitythis was the last thing she needed.
“Mum Im pregnant.”
Something inside Emma dropped like a stone down a well. She didnt scream, though she wanted to. Instead, she took a deep breath and spoke calmly.
“What do you plan to do?”
“Have it, obviously. What else?”
“And live on what? Daniels never held a job. You wont manage either.”
“He works now. Warehouse job, two months in. Were serious.”
Emma could see itSophie was lost in some rosy fantasy. But reality would hit hard when nappies and night feeds came calling.
“Sophie Youve no skills, no experience, no prospects. Neither of yous even held a newborn. Babies cost time and moneyyouve neither.”
Sophies face darkened. Emma raised a hand before the protests could start.
“Im not your enemy. I want to help. But I *know* what its like raising a child at your age.”
“Well, *you* were alone”
*And so will you be,* Emma nearly said, but bit her tongue.
“I was. Remember why? Because life doesnt promise forever. One day I had a husband, the nextgone. Thats how it is, Sophie. At thirty, Id have coped better than at twenty.”
Sophie faltered, the anger fading to uncertainty.
“What do I do, then?”
“Ill give you the money. See a doctor. If you need me, Ill go. Then focus on your studies. If you and Daniel last till graduationfine, build your life. If not? Therell be others. Well manage.”
Sophie agreed, took the money. Emma even dared to hopeher daughter had snapped out of her delusion.
But by the fourth month, Sophies belly swelled. Emmas heart sanktime had run out.
“What have you done?” Emma clutched her head.
“My life, my choice!” Sophie snapped.
“At seventeen, its *my* responsibility too!”
“Ill be eighteen when its born. So its *not your business*,” Sophie retorted.
Emma already knewthe burden would fall on her. But arguing was like stepping into a bear trap; itd snap shut with a vengeance.
Daniel, by then, had quit his job.
“Too hard. Not for me,” hed said, leeching off his parents instead.
His familys response was ice-cold.
“Your mess. Sort it yourselves,” his mother declared.
And she was right.
The “problem” grew daily. Sophie had no plan. Daniel didnt propose, and Emma refused to house them. Not that he seemed keen to move in anyway.
He showed up for the birth, posed for photos as the proud dad, visited twice, then vanished. Emma warmed bottles, changed nappies, stumbled to work red-eyed while Sophie “rested.”
“Its easier for youyou know what youre doing. He cries when I hold him,” Sophie would say.
Emma felt trapped in her own past. And she knewshe couldnt carry this cross twice.
She begged Sophie to file for child support. “No, well sort it ourselves,” Sophie insisted.
*Why lift a finger when Mum will do it?*
The breaking point came when Sophie vanished one afternoonoff gallivanting with friends, leaving the baby behind.
“You were home anyway. Whats the harm? He wasnt going anywhere,” Sophie shrugged when Emma finally reached her.
That was it. When Sophie returned, Emma gave her a week to find a new place.
“Youd throw your own grandson onto the streets?” Sophie sobbed.
“I want peace. You said it wasnt my businessyou were right. I tried to spare you this. You ignored me. Now its *your* life.”
Sophie left the next day. The fallout was brutal. Margaret took her in first, then otherseach condemning Emma as heartless. But none offered Sophie a permanent home.
Emma bore it silently until a year later, over tea with her friend Sarah.
“Harsh? Maybe. But fair. Youve done your time. Stay quiet, and shed have dumped a second and third on you. Now? Shell sink or swim. But its *her* lifenot yours.”
*Her life.* Those words cut deeper than any accusation. Once, Sophies defiance had wounded her. Now, they brought relief.
It was bitter, but trueEmma couldnt live Sophies life for her. Maybe, in time, Sophie would grow up. Maybe not. But everyone must face their own choicesnot heap them onto someone elses shoulders.
**Lesson learned: Love doesnt mean carrying burdens that arent yours. Some doors must close before others can open.**
