“Maybe now you’ll learn your place,” my mother-in-law sneered after my husband attacked me while I held our sick baby post-surgery. Weak and trembling, I locked us in the room and dialed one number. Minutes later, heavy boots kicked down the front door, and my husband’s face went pale as my father walked in wearing his general’s uniform and said…

and now she’s a demanding little tyrant.”

You can’t spoil a two-week-old baby, I thought, remembering the pediatrician’s explicit instructions about secure attachment. But speaking truth to Patricia was like screaming into a hurricane.

Troy crossed his arms, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles jumped. “I can’t believe I’m dealing with this. My father continue reading …