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Mom Insults Her Son, Because She Always Dreamed of a Daughter, Karma Hits Her Back – Subscriber Story

Manuela Cardiga
Jun 27, 2021
10:00 P.M.
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The woman had dreamed of a daughter all her life, so when she gave birth to a son, she did not want to accept him and insulted the boy. But karma reaches her strongly.


My mother didn't love me. I knew that even in my cradle, as all children do, from the way she only touched me when she had to, from the way she looked away when I smiled and gurgled.

She never loved me, and in a way, it was my fault. I was born the wrong sex, you see, and she never forgave me for that.

Woman pushing a pram | Source: Shutterstock


My mother had always wanted a daughter, my father told me. When she fell pregnant she was delighted and immediately started transforming the spare bedroom into a nursery.

She painted it pink and started buying tiny dresses and dolls for the baby she was carrying. My father told her it was too soon and reminded her that she could be carrying a boy.

My mother told him: "I know this is a girl, I just know it! Mother know!" and she was so upset at the thought of a boy that he didn't say anything else. The bad news came when she went in for an ultrasound.

The tech said to her smiling happily: "Hey mom, guess what? It's a boy!"


I stormed out, swallowing the pain that had overshadowed my whole life, the pain of a child who knows his mother didn't want him.

Clothes for a baby girl | Source: Pixabay


My mother screamed. "No! You're wrong! Check again!" The woman did and came back with the same verdict. My mother was carrying a boy. She was depressed and enraged, and ranted at my father, telling him it was his fault.

She even tried to ask her doctor if there was any way she could "not have this thing." The doctor sharply told her off, and she would later complain to my father that he was "insensitive."

That was my mother, so you see, she hated me in the womb. After I was born, she had as little to do with me as possible. she even refused to breastfeed me. It was my father who cared for me, played with me, loved me.


Then, when I was two, my mother fell pregnant again, and this time all her dreams came true. My sister Betty was everything she had ever wanted -- a pretty pink baby girl, a live doll for my mother to dress up and pamper.

Pregnant woman having an ultrasound | Source: Pexels


Once she had my sister, my mother became even harsher to me, more demanding. When I started school, my mother expected me to deliver straight As or else, but Betty was praised for bringing in Cs.

If there was money to spare it went to lavish Betty with some frippery she wanted, while I had to beg my mother for a new pair of shoes when my old ones fell apart. My father died when I was 25, and things became even worse.

I left for college three years later, determined that I was never going to live with my mother again, but life has this funny way of twisting our intentions around.

I had finished college, got a good job and my own place when I received a phone call that changed everything. A friend of the family called me and told me my mother had had a heart attack and was in intensive care.


Man with newborn baby| Source: Pexels

I rushed over and couldn't believe that frail, pale woman connected to all those beeping machines was my imperious, domineering mother. I stayed that night, and when she opened her eyes three hours later I was there, holding her hand.


She looked at me. "Betty." she said, "Where is Betty?" I hadn't the heart to tell her that the same friend had called Betty who'd told her she was too busy to fly home.

"Hi, mom. Betty couldn't come, but she sends her love." I lied, "She's been phoning every day."

"Betty is a good daughter, unlike you!" I could tell she was feeling better, The venom was back in her voice. "I suppose you're here thinking you'd inherit, well think again! Everything I have is in Betty's name. You won't get a cent."

Woman with baby girl | Source: Unsplash


"I don't want your money, mom," I said gently, "I'm here because you're my mother."

I continued visiting, and when she was discharged two weeks later I took her home. Over the next three months, I visited her every day, bringing her groceries, doing errands.

But nothing had changed, nothing I did pleased her. And one day I snapped. "What is this?" she poked at some lovely apples I'd bought at the bio market with a disdainful finger, "I wanted strawberries. Betty would have brought me strawberries!"

"You are allergic to strawberries, mom," I told her, "And if Betty is so perfect why isn't she here taking care of you?"


Woman in hospital | Source: Unsplash

"Betty has an important job, a career..." my mother said, but I'd had enough.

"No, mom, Betty doesn't care. She doesn't even call. And I lied in the hospital because I was sorry for you. She knew you were ill, but she never called, not even once. But that's OK, isn't it? I'm out of here mom, I've had enough!"


I stormed out, swallowing the pain that had overshadowed my whole life, the pain of a child who knows his mother didn't want him and doesn't love him. I now knew that no matter what I did she never would.

I was in for a surprise. Two weeks later my phone rang late at night. It was my mother. I'd never heard her like this. She was sobbing: "Betty's sold my house, Ben, she wants me out by tomorrow, I have nothing, nothing..."

Sad older woman | Source: Pexels


I was astounded to hear myself say: "That's not true, mom. You have me. You're moving in with me. I'm coming over to help you pack."

My mother was a different woman. She was quiet, and she cried a lot. Sometimes she'd reach out and touch my hand with a shy look on her face. One morning I found her sobbing in the garden.

"What's the matter mom," I asked gently, "Is it about Betty..."

She shook her head. "No, Ben, it's about you."

A amn and woman hugging | Source: Pixabay


"Me?" I gasped, "Have I upset you?"

"No, Ben. You've been a good son, a wonderful son. You're a better son than I deserve," she whispered through her tears. "Forgive me! I love you, Ben, please forgive me!"

I put my arms around her and held her, and for the first time in my life, I felt my mother's arms hold me with love. It was the first time, but it would not be the last.

What can we learn from this story?

1. Accept the children God sends you with love. Ben's mother wanted a daughter so much that she ended up rejecting the child who loved her the most.



Goodness and kindness are always rewarded.

Ben's patience and kindness to his sick mother made her see how wrong she'd been to reject him.

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