The Counterattack of Stay-at-Home Moms

I had some savings at that point and planned to stretch them until Lily started preschool before finding a new job.

But a few months later, Elaine called with terrible news. Albert’s father, Hayden, had collapsed from drinking too much.

The doctors said he’d had a stroke from his long-term drinking.

Albert was in a panic and didn’t have enough money. He begged me to use my savings to help him through this crisis.

Seeing Albert so distressed and knowing this was his father, I couldn’t say no. I handed over all my savings—over $50,000.

Albert hugged me tightly, his eyes red, and promised, “Celia, don’t worry. I’ll give you my entire salary from now on, and I’ll make sure to treat you better.”

With the money, Hayden’s life was saved, but he was left paralyzed on one side, unable to move his left arm and leg, and his speech was affected.

Hayden had always been quick-tempered, and his drinking had led to domestic abuse against Elaine.

After his stroke, his condition worsened, and Elaine cried to Albert every day, “Albert, please help Mom! She can’t keep going like this.”

Albert, feeling helpless, asked if his parents could move in with us. “I feel so sorry for Mom. I’ll take care of Dad, and he won’t be able to hurt her anymore.”

He promised to handle his father’s care while I only needed to look after Lily. I reluctantly agreed to let them move in. At first, Albert kept his promise, taking care of his dad while Elaine did some housework. I was only responsible for Lily.

Hayden’s recovery started off well; he could walk with a cane. But over time, Albert’s financial support dropped from $10,000 to $8,000, then $5,000, and eventually down to just $400 a month.

His patience wore thin with his father’s condition, leaving me to handle everything, including cleaning up after Hayden. Elaine went back to dancing.

With Albert neglecting his father again, Hayden returned to drinking. What had been manageable turned severe; he became bedridden, incontinent, and unable to move.

By the eighth year of being a full-time caregiver, I was doing all the housework, taking care of Lily, and looking after Albert’s parents.

Albert, meanwhile, grudgingly gave me just $400 a month, which I had to beg for. Only my dad continued to support me, quietly slipping me extra money.