My mother-in-law looked at my 38-week pregnant belly, told my husband, “Put a lock on both doors and let her give birth alone,” and then went off on a luxury trip to Aspen, paid for with my money. Seven days later, they returned tanned, smiling, and dragging suitcases full of shopping bags…

The irony of the situation was that the luxury week in Aspen my husband, his mother, and his sister Skylar were about to enjoy was paid for with my money. I had paid for the first class flights and the five star hotel suites where they planned to relax while I struggled through the end of my pregnancy.

I even handed them the platinum credit card they intended to use for high end dining and every supposed emergency that would inevitably become my problem. When the pain intensified and I begged for someone to help me get to the car, not a single person in that room moved a muscle to assist me.

Justin stood there in a crisp linen shirt with an expensive watch on his wrist while looking like he was headed to a brunch instead of staying with his wife. Skylar clutched her brand new designer handbag as if its safety were far more important than the well being of her unborn nephew.

“The car service is going to be here any minute, and I will not be late because you want attention,” Beulah said while checking her gold watch. To all of them, my physical agony was not a medical emergency but was simply a minor inconvenience that threatened to delay their departure.