Turns out, while I was giving birth. my MIL was …

World

When my husband and I decided on a home birth, my MIL insisted she had to be there to “help” and “support us.” I figured it would be nice to have her around, so I agreed. But when I went into labor, I noticed something strange.
She kept slipping in and out of the room, glancing over her shoulder as if she had somewhere else to be. Then, during a break between contractions, I heard a STRANGE SOUND. My husband went to check and came back absolutely PALE. Turns out, while I was giving birth. my MIL was livestreaming the entire thing on Facebook.

Without asking.
Without warning.
Without even bothering to blur my face or cover my body.

There I was, in the most vulnerable, painful, sacred moment of my life—and she had set up her phone on a small tripod in the hallway, secretly filming through the crack of the door.

I looked at my husband, who was still frozen, holding her phone in disbelief. I could see the screen—hundreds of people watching, commenting, sending emojis. Some were strangers. Some were family. Some were his coworkers.

I screamed. Not from pain, but from pure betrayal.

He immediately shut it down and stormed out to confront her. I heard him yell, “How COULD you? She trusted you!”
And her response?

“People deserve to witness a miracle. You should be proud. Everyone’s saying how beautiful it is!”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t cry. I just lay there, shattered.

Later that night, once the baby was safely in my arms and the midwife had gone, I turned to my husband and said:

“She’s never setting foot in this house again. Not after this.”

To his credit, he agreed. He called her the next morning and told her she’d broken every boundary. That this wasn’t about a “miracle” — this was about respect, and she had none.

She tried to apologize — “I didn’t know it would upset you,” she said.
But that was the problem. She didn’t think.
She didn’t care.

Months later, I still get messages from people who “saw the video” before it was deleted.
But I’ve moved on — because now I protect my peace like I protect my child.
Fiercely. Without apology.

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