The Yellow Fishing Hat
The first thing my mother-in-law bought for Alicia was a fishing hat.
I was fourteen weeks pregnant, and nobody knew whether we were having a boy or girl. The hat was yellow, with fish stitched around its brim.
Patricia was already crying over the ultrasound picture.
“She’ll grow into it,” my father-in-law, Dennis, said. “I’ll teach that baby to fish someday.”
“You don’t even know she’s a she,” Neil reminded him.
“Then he can wear yellow.”
After five years of marriage, Neil and I were expecting their first grandchild. His parents’ excitement seemed sweet.
Patricia was the one who kept every ultrasound picture on her refrigerator. Dennis called every appointment a milestone and asked whether the baby could hear his voice yet. It was hard not to feel loved by all that attention.
At least, it did then.
When we learned we were having a daughter, Patricia bought pink curtains for her spare bedroom.
“Just in case she stays over,” she explained.
By Christmas, the room held a crib, changing table, children’s books, and more baby clothes than our apartment.
“She’s not even born yet.”
“Preparation never hurts.”
Dennis called it “Alicia’s headquarters.”
Neil took photographs of the nursery and laughed when I asked whether his parents expected to raise Alicia themselves. “They’re just excited,” he said. I wanted to think so. After waiting so long for a child, I was grateful our daughter would have people eager to love her.
Then came the comments.
When I mentioned breastfeeding, Patricia said, “Don’t make yourself miserable trying to prove something.”
While folding tiny pajamas, she added, “You two can handle the fun parts. I’ll handle the hard parts.”
I thought she was joking.
One Sunday, she patted the crib.
“Neil mentioned you might need help those first nights. Alicia could stay here.”
I turned to him. “You discussed that?”
“Mom’s just offering.”
“We’re not sending our newborn anywhere overnight.”
Patricia’s smile tightened. “You’ll feel differently when you’re exhausted.”
“Then we’ll talk. But my answer is no.”
Neil touched my shoulder. “Let’s not argue over something that hasn’t happened.”
I thought that settled it.
As we drove home, I asked Neil whether he had actually suggested an overnight stay. He kept his eyes on the road.
“She brought it up, and I said we’d see.”
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“Well, now she’s seen,” I replied.
He laughed, but I didn’t.
