I’ve been married to my husband, Lucas, for five years. From the start, we both dreamed of having children, but the journey to parenthood was far more challenging than we ever imagined. For what felt like an eternity, we tried everything. We tracked ovulation, gave up drinking and smoking, exercised religiously, and perfected our diets. Still, month after month, we were met with disappointment.
Eventually, we sought medical advice, only to be told that there was nothing wrong with either of us. “Sometimes it just takes time,” the doctors said. “Be patient.” It was a relief and a frustration. Last year, our patience finally paid off. After a missed period and a few mornings of feeling sick, my best friend, Vivian, rushed over with a handful of pregnancy tests. The test confirmed it: I was pregnant. I remember staring at those two lines in disbelief, Vivien and I jumping and screaming with joy.
That evening, I planned a surprise for Lucas. When he came home to a living room filled with balloons, he was puzzled. I simply handed him the pregnancy test. His expression shifted from confusion to shock, then to pure, unbridled joy. He swept me off my feet, spinning me around in a hug. We were finally going to be parents.
Throughout my pregnancy, I collected ultrasound pictures, creating a collage on our fridge. Lucas and I meticulously decorated the nursery for our daughter, whom we decided to name CeCe. After the 12-week mark, we planned a small dinner to share the news with our closest family.
The evening of the dinner, Lucas’s younger brother, Kyle, arrived with his girlfriend, Jasmine, a divorcée with a child from a previous marriage. I was a bit surprised, as we’d specified family only, but we let it go. Throughout the evening, Kyle and Jasmine were overly affectionate, making everyone a bit uncomfortable.
As we sat down for dinner, Lucas and I stood up. “We have something to share,” Lucas said, his voice full of excitement. I brought out the ultrasound pictures and announced, “We’re pregnant!”
The room exploded with joy. Lucas’s parents were especially thrilled; this would be their first grandchild. My own mother was in tears. In the midst of the celebration, one person stood out: Jasmine. She sat motionless, glaring at us with unmistakable anger. I quietly asked Kyle what was wrong, but he just shrugged it off.
Later, Jasmine asked to see the nursery. I thought perhaps she, as a mother, might have some helpful suggestions. I was wrong. She criticized everything—the room was too bright, the yellow paint was a bad choice. Then, she scoffed at the baby clothes we had so carefully chosen. “My son never liked clothes like these,” she remarked. “You should have consulted other parents before buying these cheap knockoff versions.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. “What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, my voice shaking with frustration.
Just then, my mother and mother-in-law walked in. Sensing the tension, my mother asked what was wrong. I explained Jasmine’s criticisms. They were taken aback. My mother-in-law turned to Jasmine. “Is this true?”
Jasmine tried to backtrack, claiming the clothes felt rough and she was just offering advice. My mother stepped in. “Well, we’re mothers too,” she said calmly, “and we would never say something like that. You should know better than anyone how difficult it is to be a first-time mother.”
Jasmine, flushed with embarrassment, stormed out of the room. She announced to Kyle that she wanted to go home, and they left. Later, Kyle apologized, explaining that Jasmine had experienced trauma related to pregnancy in the past and that other women’s pregnancies were a sore spot for her. While I sympathized, her behavior was unacceptable, and I decided to keep my distance.
When I gave birth to CeCe, Kyle asked if he and Jasmine could visit. We reluctantly agreed. As soon as Jasmine saw our baby, she commented on how little hair she had, suggesting it was a sign her hair would be thin when she grew up. It was another insensitive, unnecessary remark.
A few months later, Kyle announced he and Jasmine were getting married. My mother-in-law was openly disappointed. Kyle confessed to Lucas that Jasmine was four months pregnant. The wedding was initially planned to be before the baby’s arrival, but Jasmine threw a fit because her pregnancy weight gain meant she couldn’t fit into her dream dress. The date was pushed to a month after her due date.
A month ago, Jasmine gave birth to her daughter. For their approaching wedding, Lucas was to be the best man. We decided to take CeCe with us, as I wasn’t comfortable leaving her with a babysitter. My mother-in-law and I agreed to take turns looking after her in our hotel room.
A week before the wedding, Jasmine called me. “Will you be bringing CeCe to the wedding?” she asked. When I confirmed I would, she interrupted me. “I don’t want CeCe at the wedding.”
I was taken aback. “Why?”
“I only want my miracle baby to be the center of attention,” she said. “Having CeCe there would divert attention away from her.”
I tried to reason with her, but she grew increasingly upset, eventually telling me that if I couldn’t respect her boundaries, I wasn’t welcome. The situation escalated into a huge argument involving our families. Kyle later called, apologizing and insisting we were still invited and could bring CeCe. I was furious but decided to go to support Lucas.
At the wedding ceremony, a few relatives cooed over CeCe. Each time, Jasmine shot me a disapproving glance. When the celebration moved to the reception, my mother-in-law, Lucas, and I took turns looking after CeCe in our hotel room, just as planned.
In the middle of the reception, I saw my mother-in-law, who was supposed to be with CeCe, frantically searching for me. “CeCe is missing,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
My heart dropped. Lucas asked what she meant. She confessed that Jasmine had come to the room. My mother-in-law had used the washroom for a moment, and when she came out, both Jasmine and CeCe were gone.
We immediately found Kyle, who was just as shocked as we were. We alerted hotel staff, and a search began. After an hour with no sign of them, I called the police, despite Kyle’s protests.
When the police arrived, a hotel staff member announced that Jasmine and CeCe had been found in the back of the hotel. We rushed out. There was Jasmine, sitting in a chair, holding CeCe in one arm and a cigarette in the other. Her own baby was in a carrier next to her.
Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed CeCe from her. Lucas started yelling at Jasmine, demanding to know why she had taken our daughter. “I simply wanted to help out,” she replied nonchalantly. “I’m family now, anyway.”
My mother-in-law, now fully sober, screamed at her, explaining she had no right to take our daughter without permission.
Jasmine just smirked and looked at me. “If you were so concerned, perhaps you should have listened and not brought her to the wedding.”
I was stunned. She had kidnapped my daughter deliberately to teach me a lesson.
The police turned to me and asked if I still wanted to press charges. I looked at Jasmine’s face. There was no apology, no remorse. I wanted to teach her to never mess with my family again.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m pressing charges for kidnapping.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened in disbelief as the police took her into custody. Kyle begged me to reconsider, but my mother-in-law told him that what his wife had done was unforgivable.
Updates
It’s been a few weeks since the incident. Despite Kyle’s relentless pleas to drop the charges, there’s nothing I can do. The evidence against Jasmine is compelling; the hotel’s CCTV footage clearly shows her taking CeCe from the room. My mother-in-law also gave a statement confirming Jasmine took our daughter without her knowledge.
Lucas and I had a heated argument with Kyle. He blames us for putting his “poor wife” in jail. Lucas asked him how he would feel if someone had taken his baby. Kyle had no answer. We’ve decided to cut him off for the time being. The rest of the family fully supports our decision.
During the hearing, Jasmine pleaded guilty. Her lawyer argued it was an isolated incident and she acted irrationally because she was emotional on her wedding day. The judge sentenced her to community service and mandatory counseling. Jasmine reached out with an apology, but we refused to forgive her. The damage has been done. No one can ever trust her again. My in-laws have also cut off Kyle, refusing to take his calls.