Holding back my grievances, I spoke again, "Honey, if your mom isn't coming, can we hire a maternity matron or go to a postpartum care center? You know, my incision hasn't healed yet, and I can't do heavy work. Otherwise, I might suffer long-term effects."
The mention of spending money made Nigel flip out. He jumped up from the couch and screamed at me.
"Julia Hornby, are you never satisfied? My mom had to get up and work the day after giving birth, and she was fine. It's just cooking and cleaning, no heavy lifting. Hiring a nurse or going to a care center costs money. Do you have any idea how hard it is to earn money?"
I wanted to argue, but Nigel cut me off.
Grabbing his coat, he stood by the door and warned me sternly. "Julia, the child is born. If you can raise it, fine. If not, get out. Don't try to pull any tricks. I won't give you another penny."
With that, he stormed out, leaving me and the baby in the chaotic house.
It wasn't until nightfall that Nigel swaggered back home.