I glanced at the phone, irritation bubbling up inside me. “Scott, she’s going overboard. We don’t need her telling us how to prepare for our baby.”
He sighed. “I know, but she’s just trying to help. Should I say something?”
“Just ignore it,” I advised, placing his phone down. “She’s not the one having the baby; we are.”
But ignoring Avery didn’t seem to work. Her texts became more frequent and critical. It felt like she was scrutinizing every decision I made.
Publicly, Avery would leave supportive comments on my social media posts, but privately, she bombarded Scott with advice.
“Jean shouldn’t be eating that,” she’d text him if I posted a picture of my lunch. “She needs more folic acid.”
One afternoon, Scott showed me a particularly annoying message from her: “Jean should avoid caffeine entirely. It’s not good for the baby.”
“Can you believe this?” Scott asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her!”
“I can’t deal with her constant nagging,” I said. “This is getting out of hand.”
As the weeks went by, I focused on planning my baby shower with my mom and sister. It was going to be a small, intimate gathering with close friends and family. One evening, as I was finalizing the guest list, I received a text from Avery.
“Hey Jean! I would love to host your baby shower. I have so many great ideas!” she wrote.
I took a deep breath and typed a polite response. “Thank you, Avery, but my mom and sister are already handling it. I appreciate the offer!”
The next day, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Avery standing there, arms loaded with decorations and a detailed menu.
“Surprise! I brought everything we need for the baby shower!” she exclaimed, pushing past me into the house.
“Avery, I told you, my mom and sister are taking care of it,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
“But I have everything planned! It will be perfect!” she insisted, her tone condescending. “Trust me, I know what’s best for you and the baby.”
She started laying out the decorations on my dining table, listing all the things she had prepared. “I’ve arranged for a gluten-free, sugar-free cake, and I found the cutest eco-friendly party favors. I even have a playlist with relaxing music for the baby!”
I stood there, shocked by how pushy and overbearing she was being. “Avery, I appreciate your effort, but this is really something my mom and sister want to handle.”
“Jean, you have to understand,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly, “I just want everything to be perfect for you. You deserve the best.”
