After a difficult delivery, Olivia’s mother became comatose, but she woke up years later, not realizing how long it had been. She hated her daughter for everything that happened until she saw something on Olivia’s computer.
“Dad, can you tell me what happened back then?” Olivia asked her father once again. Heath had always been reluctant to tell his daughter this story, but she was old enough to know now.
“I met your mother the night I saw her performing for the first time. Renata was the best ballerina this town had ever seen, and I had to meet her. I thought she would reject me, but she didn’t. We started dating immediately,” Heath reminisced.
Olivia visited her mother constantly for 17 years. | Source: Shutterstock
“What happened?”
“I really wanted a child after we got married, but she would have had to give up her career. Eventually, Renata agreed, and we were so happy. When she was about 7 months pregnant, the doctors told us that she had a big spinal problem,” Olivia’s father continued.
“Oh no!”
“Yeah, honey. It was bad. They told her it would be better to induce her labor then and try to repair it. You were born premature but healthy and thriving. Unfortunately, Renata’s surgery was complicated. The doctors said she pulled through, but she never woke up,” Heath said sadly.
Doctors couldn’t explain exactly what happened. | Source: Pexels
“They didn’t explain why?” Olivia asked.
“No. They said that she could wake up any minute. That’s why we visited her so often. I’ve been waiting, but it doesn’t seem like it will happen. I’m losing hope,” her father added.
“No, dad! She’ll wake up! She’s my mom!” Olivia exclaimed. Coincidentally, the doctor called the next day, as Renata had miraculously awakened.
“How is this possible, Dr. Green?” Heath asked when they arrived at the hospital.
“There’s no explanation right now, Mr. Haney. We’ll have to run some tests, but there might never be an answer,” the physician answered.
Heath wanted to see Renata before she met Olivia. | Source: Pexels
“Honey, let me go in first. Remember, she doesn’t know that 17 years have gone by,” Heath told Olivia. She agreed and stayed back, although the teen girl was dying to talk to her mother after all these years.
Heath walked into Renata’s room. “My love! You’re here! Why am I so tired? Did the surgery go well?” she wondered and hugged Heath. He didn’t know how to answer her questions but settled on hugging her back.
“Where’s the baby? Can I see her?” Renata wondered.
“Yes, darling. But you might be a little surprised,” Heath began. “Olivia, can you come in here, please.”
Olivia greeted her mom happily. | Source: Pexels
Olivia stepped into the room, and there she was. Her mother was sitting up on the bed and smiling. She had been dying to see this after so many years of talking to her sleeping form. “Hello, Mom!” Olivia said.
“What is this, Heath? Is she the nanny? Where’s our baby?” Renata asked in confusion, frowning when Olivia called her “mom.”
“No, darling. It’s a long story,” Heath started. He explained everything to Renata slowly, and at first, she refused to believe it.
“No! You’re lying! This is a prank! That’s impossible!” Renata yelled and cried. “Get that girl out of my room and bring me my baby!”
Renata didn’t want anything to do with her daughter. | Source: Pexels
“Renata, calm down, please,” Heath said. But just then, Renata saw herself in the mirror. She saw all those 17 years on her face, and any chance to be the best ballerina in the world was gone now. She went quiet.
After a few days, the doctor cleared her to go home, but Renata refused to speak to Olivia. Olivia did everything around the house, hoping to please her mother. “Mom, what do you want for dinner?” she asked one evening.
“Don’t call me ‘mom.’ I don’t want anything from you,” she replied disdainfully and went upstairs. That night, she made Heath have dinner alone with her, while Olivia stayed in her room. Over the next few days, Renata treated her daughter worse.
Renata made messes that Olivia had to clean. | Source: Pexels
When Olivia cleaned, Renata purposely made another mess like cracking a raw egg on the kitchen table, which Olivia had to clean again. “Why are you doing this to me?” Olivia asked.
“I’m not doing anything. I just don’t want you in my house,” Renata said nonchalantly.
“I’m your daughter!” Olivia wailed.
“That’s what Heath says, but I don’t care! I don’t want you here! You need to leave now!” Renata added angrily. She walked into Olivia’s room and decided that the girl had to leave immediately. She started packing her things until she saw her computer.
She looked through Olivia’s computer and discovered heartwarming videos. | Source: Pexels
She started clicking stuff and discovered a folder named “For Mom.” It was a collection of videos Olivia made dedicated to her. She was there in the hospital on Renata’s birthday. She talked about missing her mom and how she couldn’t wait to see her wake up.
It brought tears to her eyes and she suddenly grieved all the years she had lost and how she blamed her child for it. “Mother! Why are you packing my things? Is this revenge for what happened when you got pregnant with me?” Olivia exclaimed when she entered her room.
“No, baby. I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have blamed you. None of this was your fault! Waking up from a coma and discovering everything was overwhelming. I love you!” Renata cried. They both hugged and started to build a relationship right there.
Olivia practiced ballet, and Renata was her teacher. | Source: Pexels
Eventually, Renata opened her own ballet studio, and Olivia started taking lessons directly from her mother.
What can we learn from this story?
- You can’t blame others for what happens to you. Sometimes, freak incidents happen, and there might not be someone to blame.
- Pregnancy is a serious matter. You have to research thoroughly before taking that important step because it can derail your life and plans.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who refused to care for her mother in her old age.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
The Mothers of a Couple Turned Thanksgiving Into a Living Hell for Their Newlywed Kids — Story of the Day
Two stubborn mothers arrive at Thanksgiving with their own plans, sparking a rivalry that fills the kitchen with smoke and tension. As surprises unfold, the family faces one unforgettable holiday where tempers flare, loyalties are tested, and a last-minute twist reminds them of what truly matters.
Thick, dark smoke swirled through the house, making it hard to breathe. Kira coughed, struggling to take in air as she pressed her hand over her mouth. Her other hand protectively rested on her pregnant belly, and she glanced at Michael with wide, anxious eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
They moved cautiously toward the kitchen, where the thickest smoke seemed to gather. There, like two children caught in the act, stood Margaret and Rebecca, each looking as startled as the other.
Their faces were smudged with black soot, their eyes wide and guilty, while the oven door hung open, revealing a turkey charred beyond recognition.
“What is going on here?!” Michael yelled, his eyes darting from his mother to his mother-in-law, then to the smoky kitchen around them.
“This old woman—” Rebecca started, pointing an accusing finger at Margaret.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Old woman? Look who’s talking!” Margaret interrupted, her voice sharp as she crossed her arms.
Rebecca glared. “If you hadn’t barged in here—”
Margaret shot back, “Barged in? You’re the one who can’t cook!”
Their voices grew louder, words tumbling over each other, turning into a mess of jabs and shouts, each trying to talk over the other. Insults flew back and forth as if they’d forgotten anyone else was there.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Please, stop,” Kira whispered, clutching her belly, but they didn’t hear her.
Kira winced, feeling a sharp pain. “Stop! I’m in labor!” she yelled, her voice cutting through the chaos.
Both women froze, their faces stunned. Then, suddenly, the turkey burst into flames in the oven. Margaret and Rebecca shrieked, grabbing towels to fight the fire, while Kira moaned in pain, and Michael stood there, helpless, eyes wide in shock.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
One Week Earlier…
Margaret drove up to her daughter Kira’s house, feeling a spark of excitement. She held a fresh-baked pie on her lap, proud of the surprise she had planned.
Without calling ahead, she parked, stepped out, and walked up the front steps, smiling at the thought of catching them off guard. She knocked firmly, and before long, Michael opened the door, blinking in surprise.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Margaret… what are you doing here?” he asked, blinking in surprise.
“I decided to surprise you,” Margaret replied cheerfully, holding out a pie. “I thought a little treat might be nice.”
Michael took the pie, glancing back toward the kitchen, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “Thanks, Margaret. Um, come on in.”
Margaret stepped inside, slipping off her coat, and instantly heard voices from the kitchen. She paused, recognizing the tone of Rebecca’s voice. With a raised brow, she followed the sound and found Kira seated, listening as Rebecca talked in her usual, commanding way.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca was in mid-sentence, her words calm yet firm. “It’s important to establish good habits early. Babies need a routine, structure.”
Margaret felt a surge of irritation. “Why are you bothering my daughter?”
Rebecca looked over, blinking, and gave a tight smile. “I’m just giving her a little parenting advice.”
Margaret scoffed. “Parenting advice? And what do you know about raising kids?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca’s smile vanished. “Excuse me? Your daughter is married to my son, after all. I think that gives me some right to speak.”
“Oh, well, apologies accepted,” Margaret said with a dry laugh. “Though I recall your son didn’t even know how to wash his own dishes when he started dating Kira. I had to teach him myself!”
“How dare you!” Rebecca snapped.
Michael stepped into the kitchen. “Please, calm down. Let’s keep things peaceful, all right?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Kira gave a tired sigh. “There will be a little baby in this house soon,” she said softly. “We want a positive atmosphere here. No fighting.”
Margaret nodded, sitting down at the table. “You’re right, Kira. I want the best for this family. And, well, since we’re all here, even if some people weren’t exactly welcome…” Her gaze shifted pointedly to Rebecca. “Why don’t we talk about Thanksgiving? I’ll make my signature turkey—”
Rebecca cut her off. “Actually, I was going to suggest we celebrate at my place this year.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “We celebrate at my place every year. It’s tradition.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca crossed her arms. “Traditions can change. I’m tired of sneezing from your silly cat.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “Better to have a cat than to celebrate in a snake’s den.”
Rebecca’s voice rose. “Who do you think you are?!”
Kira sighed heavily, covering her face with her hands. Michael gently patted her back. “I think we should celebrate here this year,” he offered quickly.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“What?” Kira blurted, surprised.
“It’ll be fine, Kira. I’ll help you with the cooking,” Michael assured her.
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“It’s better than all this arguing,” Michael replied.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Kira nodded wearily. “He’s right. My head is pounding.”
Rebecca softened a little. “At least let me help. I can make the turkey.”
Kira sighed. “Fine.”
“But what about my signature turkey?” Margaret asked, hurt.
“Just this once, Mom,” Kira pleaded.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret paused, then gave in with a nod. “All right. For you, Kira,” she said, though a secret plan was already forming in her mind.
On Thanksgiving morning, Margaret rose early, her mind set on her plan. She was ready, having spent the entire week gathering the perfect ingredients. She packed up her turkey, herbs, spices, and everything needed to create her well-loved recipe.
She carefully tucked everything into a basket and drove over to Kira and Michael’s house. She knew Kira and Michael were out, so there was no time to waste.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She reached their front door, taking out the spare key Kira had given her, meant only for emergencies. But today, Margaret felt this was important enough.
As she stepped inside, she paused, listening. A muffled noise drifted from the kitchen—pots clanging, cabinets closing. Margaret froze, her mind racing. Kira and Michael’s car wasn’t outside, so it wasn’t them.
Her eyes darted around, and she spotted an umbrella by the door. She grabbed it firmly and walked toward the kitchen, her heart pounding. She raised the umbrella as she peeked inside.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
There, bent over the counter, was Rebecca, elbows deep in turkey preparations. Margaret stopped short, barely holding back from swinging the umbrella.
“Are you completely insane?!” Rebecca shouted.
Margaret glared back. “I thought you were a burglar! What are you even doing here?”
Rebecca crossed her arms. “Kira gave me permission to cook here. But what are you doing here?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret calmly set her basket on the counter. “I’m here to make my turkey.”
Rebecca scowled. “That wasn’t the deal.”
Margaret smirked. “What’s wrong? Afraid mine will taste better?”
Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “We’ll just have to see about that!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The kitchen was soon filled with the sounds of clanking pots and muttered complaints as Margaret and Rebecca worked side by side, each determined to make the best turkey.
They bumped elbows, snatched spices from each other’s reach, and exchanged pointed glares. Margaret sprinkled her herbs, pretending not to notice when Rebecca nudged her arm slightly, causing salt to spill. Rebecca hummed loudly, ignoring Margaret’s muttering about “rookie mistakes.”
Finally, Margaret finished her turkey, carefully placing it in the oven with a triumphant grin. She noticed the irritation in Rebecca’s eyes but ignored it, brushing her hands off as she headed to the living room to relax.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
After a while, a strange, burnt smell filled the air. Alarmed, Margaret rushed back to the kitchen, finding Rebecca desperately waving a towel, trying to fan away thick smoke billowing from the oven.
“What did you do?!” Margaret shouted, glaring at Rebecca.
Rebecca crossed her arms. “I didn’t do anything! Maybe you don’t know how to cook.”
Margaret stormed over to the oven, eyeing the controls. She noticed the temperature had been changed. “You did this! You’re trying to ruin my turkey!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca leaned in with a smirk. “I didn’t touch it. If it’s ruined, it’s your own fault!”
Margaret pulled open the oven door, only to be hit by a wave of thick, black smoke that poured out into the kitchen. She coughed and squinted, trying to see through the haze.
There, in the center of the oven, was her turkey—charred to a solid black lump. It looked nothing like the golden masterpiece she’d imagined.
Moments later, Michael and Kira walked through the door, both stopping short at the smoky mess. Instantly, Margaret and Rebecca began shouting, each blaming the other.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But suddenly, Kira doubled over, clutching her belly. “Michael… it’s time!” she gasped, gripping his hand.
As Michael guided Kira to the car, Margaret watched, her heart pounding with worry for her daughter.
“Take a cab,” Michael said firmly. “I don’t want either of you stressing Kira out with more arguments.” With that, he helped Kira into the car, then got in and drove off without waiting for their reply.
Margaret huffed. “Well, we can take my car.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca nodded, looking tired herself. “Fine, let’s go.”
When they arrived at the hospital, the nurse informed them that only Michael was allowed in the room with Kira. Margaret and Rebecca found two chairs in the hallway and sat down, an uncomfortable silence stretching between them. They fidgeted, glanced around, and avoided each other’s eyes.
Finally, Margaret cleared her throat. “I think we need a truce,” she said quietly. “We almost ruined Thanksgiving, and if Kira hadn’t gone into labor… well, we would have ruined it for her.”
Rebecca nodded slowly, her face softening. “I agree. I don’t want my granddaughter thinking her grandma’s a nutcase.” She paused, then looked at Margaret directly. “So, peace?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret nodded, extending her hand. “Peace,” she repeated.
Rebecca took her hand, giving it a firm shake.
Just then, Michael stepped out, smiling. “You can see your granddaughter now,” he said, motioning for them to come in.
Both women leapt up, hurrying to the room. Inside, Kira lay on the hospital bed, smiling, with a tiny bundle cradled in her arms.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rebecca leaned over, her eyes filling with tears. “She’s beautiful,” she said softly.
Margaret nodded, reaching out to touch the baby’s tiny hand. “And she looks like both of you,” she added with a smile.
A nurse walked in, carrying a tray. “Dinner for the new mom,” she announced, setting it on the bedside table. “Since it’s Thanksgiving, we went with a holiday-themed meal.” The tray held slices of turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, and green peas.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Margaret chuckled. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new Thanksgiving tradition.”
“No way!” Kira exclaimed with a laugh. “I am not going through this every year!”
Everyone burst out laughing, and though it wasn’t the Thanksgiving they’d planned, it was the one they truly needed.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Tell us what you think about this story and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: When Rick returns to his small hometown after his grandmother’s passing, he inherits her old bookstore—a place full of memories from his childhood. But as he starts cleaning, he uncovers hidden secrets about his grandmother’s life that change everything. Read the full story here.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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