She Said It Was Love—But It Felt Like Surveillance
Just weeks after giving birth, still healing and emotionally raw, I received a call from my mother-in-law, Linda. She lives across the country and couldn’t visit, so her voice trembled with longing: “I just want to feel close to that precious little girl. Please, could you give me access to the baby monitor?”
I hesitated. The idea of someone watching our nursery—our most intimate space—felt invasive. But my husband, ever the peacekeeper, gently urged me to agree. “She just wants to see the baby,” he said. So I gave her access to the monitor app, telling myself it was sweet. Harmless.
At first, it was. Linda sent loving texts: “She looks like an angel when she sleeps 😍,” or “That little stretch—my heart!” It felt like shared joy, like someone else marveling at our miracle during those lonely 3 a.m. feedings.
But then, her messages changed.
She began commenting on things that had nothing to do with the baby. “You wore the blue robe again today,” she texted once. Another time: “You sing off-key when you’re tired.” I froze. She wasn’t just watching the baby—she was watching me.
The final blow came when my sister showed me Linda’s public Facebook posts. Screenshots from the monitor. One of me breastfeeding, captioned mockingly. Another of me yawning, with a snide remark about “new mom glam.” My private moments had become her entertainment.
When I confronted my husband, he brushed it off. “She’s just being observant.” But this wasn’t observation—it was violation. I revoked her access immediately.
My sister, furious, organized a virtual family game night. Mid-call, she shared her screen and displayed Linda’s posts. The room went silent. Linda left the call. My father-in-law later apologized. My husband finally understood.
Linda claimed it was “just a joke,” blamed generational differences. But some boundaries aren’t negotiable—especially when they involve your child, your body, your home.
Love doesn’t spy. It protects.
