I had a miscarriage, my mother-in-law brought me a carton of “rotten” eggs… I cried when my husband opened it/hi
My husband is the illegitimate child of my mother-in-law’s first husband. His biological father died when he was 5, and when he was 6, my mother-in-law remarried. She knew that her stepfather didn’t care much for her illegitimate child, but she had no other choice: with no job, no ability to support herself or her son, she had to rely on her second husband for support.
I once heard my husband, Aman, say that when he was young, his mother-in-law often told him:
— Aman, you have to be good, you have to obey your father, only then can you live a good life.
He understood things from the very beginning, knew that his mother was suffering, so even though his stepfather was indifferent to him, he never complained or blamed her.
When Aman was eight, his stepbrother, Rakesh, was born. From then on, his stepfather became even more indifferent towards Aman.
Due to the high tuition fees, he left college before completing his studies and started working because his stepfather didn’t want to pay for his education. To avoid embarrassing his mother, he quietly left university, applied to learn a trade, and decided to support himself.
I met Aman when I was 23 and he was 27. He was unmarried, having no family support; and I also came from a poor family, so my parents were very happy with him – a skilled, gentle, and hardworking man. When we got married, my parents didn’t ask for dowry; they understood my husband’s family’s situation: my stepfather took care of all the household chores, and even if my mother-in-law wanted to help, it would be difficult.
After marriage, we rented a small room in Delhi. Half a year later, I became pregnant. I vividly remember the day my mother-in-law brought me local chicken chickens from the village to feed me, but my stepfather found out and scolded me. From then on, my husband and I never brought up anything with her, fearing she might get upset again.
Perhaps that’s why my mother-in-law always felt guilty, thinking there was something lacking in her family and that she had wronged me. But I didn’t feel that way, because my husband truly loved me—that was enough.
When I was five months pregnant, I slipped and fell on the stairs of the apartment complex while taking out the trash. My belly was already large, and I tried to cover it, but I couldn’t carry the baby to term. I miscarried.
When my mother-in-law heard the news, she was heartbroken and blamed herself for not being able to take care of me. From the beginning, she wanted to come live with me, but my stepfather wouldn’t allow it, saying there was no one to care for her and Rakesh.
Although I understood my stepfather’s bias toward his biological child, I still had to diet and rest as per the doctor’s instructions. Meanwhile, my mother-in-law brought a carton of eggs. As soon as she came in, I smelled rotten eggs, but I was too embarrassed to say anything – I understood her feelings.
When my mother-in-law returned, I said to my husband:
— Open the carton of eggs that Mom brought for me. I smelled something strange; it must be rotten eggs. Mom had just moved in, so I was too embarrassed to say anything.
Aman opened the lid—and was stunned… Inside was not just eggs, but a pile of money, about ₹16,000 (all in small ₹50, ₹100, ₹200 notes) neatly hidden under the straw.
I quickly called my mother-in-law. Her voice choked and she said: When she brought the eggs upstairs, her step-father caught her. She didn’t dare take the new eggs, afraid he might suspect her, so she took the old basket of eggs. Then, when no one was looking, she put some of her savings in it. She knew that if I gave her the money directly, I wouldn’t take it. My mother-in-law broke down in tears and said that she had endured a lot by marrying into their family; She didn’t even give me a nice wedding gift, and now she’s just hoping I’ll take some money to nourish my body after the miscarriage.
Hearing this, and seeing the box of “rotten” eggs my mother-in-law had painstakingly brought, I couldn’t hold back my tears. I knew her life wasn’t easy, thanks to a harsh husband, yet she always thought of me—her daughter-in-law, who wasn’t related to her by blood.
I said to myself: From now on and forever, I will take care of her like a mother-in-law, loving her with all my heart—to make up for those years of hardship, and to give the family living in that small house in the heart of Delhi a loving place they can rely on.
