Conflicts between new parents and in-laws often surface around breastfeeding, baby care choices, and personal boundaries. Success in resolving these moments can shape emotional well-being and marriage stability, especially when a mother-in-law oversteps and partners disagree on support and parenting roles.
So I’m a new mom.
Still figuring out how to shower and eat on the same day kind of new.
The kind of new where time doesn’t exist and everything smells faintly like milk.
I’m breastfeeding my son, and yeah, it’s hard sometimes, but it’s going well and our pediatrician is happy with his weight and everything.
There are cracked nipples, 3 a.m. feeds, and moments where I question myself. But he’s gaining weight, he’s healthy, and his doctor is pleased.
That should be enough reassurance.
It should be.
Enter my MIL.
From day one she’s been calling my son “my baby.” Not my grandbaby. Just, my baby. It already rubbed me the wrong way, but I tried to let it slide because postpartum hormones + I didn’t want drama.
Every time she said it, I felt this small, sharp pinch in my chest.
I told myself I was being sensitive.
I told myself she was just excited.
Then she starts making comments. “Are you sure he’s getting enough?” “He’s crying because he’s hungry.” “You know formula would fill him up better.”
It wasn’t one comment. It was constant.
Every cry was apparently proof I was failing.
I’ve explained (nicely!) multiple times that I’m breastfeeding, it’s working, and I’m not starving my kid. She just nods and then brings it up again the next visit.
Like we never had the conversation.
Like my answers evaporated the moment they left my mouth.
Breastfeeding is already emotional.
You’re attached to this tiny human in a way that feels primal and exhausting at the same time.
You worry constantly. Is he getting enough? Is that cluster feeding normal? Should he be sleeping longer?
Then someone plants doubt in your head and waters it every single week.
Last week I walked into the living room and caught her feeding my son formula. Secretly. She froze when she saw me.
The bottle was in his mouth.
Her eyes went wide.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
I lost it. I’ll own that. I yelled. I asked her what she thought she was doing. She snapped back and said, “It’s my right. It’s my right, he’s my baby too. I’m his grandmother.”
My right.
Those words echoed.
That broke something in me. I told her she had ZERO rights to make decisions about my baby without me. She started crying, saying I was ungrateful and that I don’t know what I’m doing as a first-time mom.
Suddenly I was the villain.
Suddenly she was the wounded grandmother who just wanted to “help.”
But help doesn’t happen in secret.
Help doesn’t override a mother’s explicit choices.
I couldn’t stop shaking.
It wasn’t about formula versus breastfeeding anymore.
It was about trust.
She waited until I wasn’t in the room.
She knew I wouldn’t approve.
That’s not confusion. That’s deliberate.
Here’s where it gets worse. My husband pulled me aside later and said his mom was “just trying to help” and maybe she should move in with us for a while so I can get “proper support.”
I honestly thought I misheard him.
Move in?
After she fed our baby behind my back?
When I said absolutely not, he told me I was being selfish and that refusing help “isn’t good parenting.” I feel completely undermined. Like my body, my choices, and my role as a mom don’t matter. I’m already exhausted and emotional, and now I feel like I’m fighting both my MIL and my husband.
That’s the part that hurts the most.
Not just her.
Him.
This is the person who watched me give birth.
Who saw the tears, the stitches, the sleepless nights.
And somehow I’m the unreasonable one?
Breastfeeding isn’t just a feeding method.
It’s my body. It’s my bond. It’s hours of sitting still while the world moves around me.
And yes, formula is fine. Fed is best. I know that.
But the choice should be mine and my husband’s. Not hers.
Definitely not made in secret.
I keep replaying the moment in my head.
Her holding the bottle.
The way she said “my right.”
The way my husband said “proper support,” like I’m incapable.
Support would look like someone bringing me water while I nurse.
Support would look like someone folding laundry or rocking the baby so I can nap.
Support would not look like overriding my parenting decisions.
Now I don’t even feel comfortable leaving her alone with him.
And that makes me the “dramatic” one.
I question myself constantly.
Am I overreacting?
Are postpartum hormones magnifying everything?
But then I strip it down to the basics.
If anyone else fed my baby something after I explicitly said no, would this even be a debate?
If a babysitter did it, would we call that “help”?
Or would we call it a violation?
It’s not about pride.
It’s about boundaries.
I’m a first-time mom, yes.
That doesn’t mean I’m incompetent.
Learning doesn’t require being overruled.
My husband says she has experience.
She raised him.
And I respect that.
But she doesn’t get to relive motherhood through my child.
He is not her do-over baby.
He is my son.
Ours.
And right now, I feel like I’m standing alone in that truth.
I don’t want a war.
I don’t want drama.
I just want to nurse my baby without commentary.
I want to parent without someone secretly correcting me.
And I want my husband to see that protecting boundaries isn’t selfish.
It’s necessary.
So… am I really a bad person and parent for blowing up and refusing to let her be around my baby unsupervised?
Or am I overreacting and letting pride get in the way of “help”?
What would you do if you were me?
Because right now, I don’t feel angry as much as I feel tired.
Tired of defending decisions that shouldn’t need defending.
Tired of feeling like I have to justify my motherhood.
All I know is this:
If I don’t protect my role now, it will keep getting chipped away.
And I didn’t carry this child for nine months, give birth, and wake up every two hours at night to hand over my authority to someone else.
Not even his grandmother.