Hi, my name is Nancy, and I’m a 35-year-old single mom of three—ages seven, three, and my little six-month-old baby. Life has never been easy, but I’ve always managed to hold things together, partly because my mom lived with us. She’s seventy-four, and until recently, she helped watch my kids in exchange for living here rent-free.

It wasn’t a perfect system, but it worked… at least until her fall. After she slipped in the kitchen two weeks ago, everything changed. She’s been in constant pain, unable to move the way she used to.

Suddenly, she couldn’t babysit, couldn’t help around the house, couldn’t even get out of bed without support. And with three kids and bills piling up, I couldn’t pretend I could shoulder everything alone. When she refused the idea of a nursing home, I tried to find a middle ground.

I gently suggested she contribute financially if I was going to become her full-time caregiver. I wasn’t trying to punish her—I was trying to survive. But she exploded, shouting, “I’m your mother—you owe me!”

The words stung, but nothing prepared me for what came next.

That night, while I was feeding the baby, my seven-year-old son called me from upstairs, his voice shaking. “Mom! Grandma’s going somewhere!”

I ran up, heart pounding—only to freeze in the doorway.

A nursing home transport van was in our driveway. My mother had called them herself. But the shock didn’t end there.

Inside the house, half the rooms were bare. A moving truck had come earlier and taken everything that belonged to her—furniture, dishes, even my baby’s crib because she had gifted it to us. My house suddenly felt hollow, like someone had scooped out the center of our home.

When I called her, desperate for an explanation, she snapped, “This is what you get for being ungrateful! I cared for your kids for years. Now that I can’t be useful, you’re tossing me aside!”

I hung up shaking.

I wasn’t trying to abandon her. I was trying to protect my children and keep our home afloat. I can’t be a full-time nurse on top of being a full-time mom and full-time provider.

So now I’m left wondering…

Am I really wrong for asking her to contribute? Or was she wrong for expecting everything from me—while giving nothing in return? Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events.

Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance.

All images are for illustration purposes only.