Mine Aren’t Any Worse Than Yours, Are They?

Emily took a step back from the threshold of the living room, her stomach tightening. Theyd only arrived at her mother-in-laws five minutes ago, but she already wanted to bolt.

“Is she contagious? Are you mad? Im pregnant!” Emily hissed, glaring at the scene before her.

“Dont worry!” her sister-in-law, Claire, waved a dismissive hand. “She hasnt had a fever for three days. The doctor said shes fine now.”

Emily clenched her fists. On the sofa, Claire sat grinning as if nothing were amiss, while her four-year-old daughter, Lily, squirmed on the floor in unicorn-print pyjamas. The girl was speckled with spotsgreenish, like a leopard.

“Dont worry? Ive never had chickenpox! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is for the baby? Why didnt anyone warn me?” Emily spun toward the door.

“Em, youre already here,” Claire said placatingly, as if that settled it. “Just stay.”

“If Id known, I wouldnt have come!” Emily snapped, yanking on her boots. She shoved her arms into her coat outside, unwilling to linger another second. She didnt need surprises like this at eight months pregnant. Her husband, James, hurried after her.

The entire ride home, Emily berated herself. She knew how her in-laws treated illness. She knewand still, shed gone.

The first time Claire had shocked her was when shed dragged Lily over, feverish and coughing. Emily had brushed it offshe wasnt pregnant thenbut she hadnt liked it. Shed liked it even less when she fell ill two days later. Working from home meant she couldnt have caught it elsewhere. The fever made her miss deadlines, earning a scolding from her boss during their busiest season. Claire had shrugged.

“Sorry. Didnt know your immune system was so weak.”

As if it were Emilys fault.

Claire was careless with everyonedropping Lily at nursery with a cough, scoffing when the teacher reprimanded her.

“Theyre kids. If mines sick, they all are anyway. I cant afford to take time off.”

She never learned. Why would she? She wasnt the one suffering.

Thankfully, Emily avoided chickenpox, and little Oliver was born healthy. But she vowed to protect him from such recklessness. She “mixed up” his check-up dates, allowed only her own mother to visit.

“Hows Ollie? When can we meet him?” Claire would ask.

“The doctor said to quarantine. His immune systems fragile,” Emily would lie.

She dodged visits with every excusefeigning forgetfulness, inventing errands, claiming fatigue. Anything to keep Lily away.

Then Claire showed up unannounced. Emily opened the door on reflex, and the floodgates burst. Lily, sniffling but beaming, darted toward the nursery.

“We thought wed pop by for tea,” Claire chirped. “Lily missed her cousin. Kids love playing with babies.”

Emilys jaw tightened. “Is Lily sick again?”

“Kids are always poorly. Its just allergies. They need to build immunity.”

Emily barely lasted half an hour before shooing them out. But two days later, Oliver spiked a fever so high he seized. That night was hell. Emily blamed herselfshe shouldve slammed the door.

“Enough,” she told James later. “No more snotty Lily in this house.”

“Shes just a kid,” he protested.

“A walking infection. Every time shes here, we end up at the doctors.”

James stayed silent, but she saw his disapproval. She didnt care.

Avoiding them entirely proved impossible. They skipped Christmas, made excuses for Mothers Daybut Olivers birthday was a battle.

“Mum and Claire are coming tomorrow,” James admitted.

Emily froze. “I said no guests.”

“Theyre family. I askedLilys fine. Should I ban them while your mum visits? Are mine lesser?”

Emily bit her tongue. Maybe things had changed.

They hadnt.

This time, Lily wasnt coughingjust quiet, withdrawn.

“Is Lily alright?” Emily whispered.

“Her throat hurt this morning, but I gave her medicine,” Claire said.

Emily inhaled sharply. “Every visit ends with doctors.”

“Oh, please. Hell get sick in nursery anyway. Consider it practice.”

Emily gaped. “So I should thank you?”

“Youre overreacting. All kids get ill.”

“Not because others shove germs at them.”

The party soured. Three days later, Oliver was feverish again.

James finally understooduntil December 30th, when he stormed in, tossing his keys down.

“Stay away,” he warned. “I was at Claires. She needed help assembling Lilys bike.”

Emily knew what was coming.

“Theres a norovirus outbreak at her nursery. She told me after.”

New Years Eve was spent by buckets, not the telly. The untouched turkey went cold.

“I cant do this,” Emily whispered. “No more visits. Just calls.”

James sighed. “Alright.”

This time, he meant it. Some people, even family, arent worth the riskno matter how much they claim “all kids get sick.”

Rate article
Mine Aren’t Any Worse Than Yours, Are They?
I Spoke to Large Families and Finally Understood Why They Get a Bad Rap