At forty-two, 22 years after welcoming my son Kyle, I chose to become a mother for the second time. This year was supposed to be joyful, but it took an unexpected turn when Kyle announced his girlfriend’s pregnancy. I refrained from voicing my concerns, knowing how hard it is to raise a child at a young age. When Kyle and Sarah visited me in the hospital after I gave birth to my daughter, Clara, Sarah’s reaction to the name was explosive.
She screamed, scaring baby Clara, and demanded I change the name. “The point is, this name…” Kyle argued, but I stood firm. “NO,” I said, the weight of my decision unequivocal. Their demands didn’t stop. At a family dinner, Sarah accused, “You stole the only name I liked.” Kyle pleaded, “Mom, could you reconsider it? Just to keep peace?” But the idea of renaming my child to appease them felt wrong. Tensions escalated with Kyle warning,
