My Daughter Crocheted 80 Hats for Sick Children – Then My MIL Threw Them Away and Said, ‘She’s Not My Blood’
My daughter crocheted hats for sick kids for weeks, but when my husband left on a business trip, we returned home to discover that all of her hard work was vanished.
With my mother-in-law acknowledging that she had thrown everything away while standing in the doorway. She believed she had won, but my husband’s next move caught her off guard!
The father of my daughter, who is ten years old, died when she was just three years old. It was us against the world for years.
After that, I wed Daniel. He reads Emma’s favorite books to her every night, helps with projects, and packs lunches for her as if she were his own.
His mother, Carol, has never considered him to be her father in any meaningful manner.
She once said to Daniel, “It’s cute that you act like she’s your real daughter.”
She added, “Stepchildren never feel like true family.”
And the one that never failed to chill me to the bone: “Your daughter makes you think of your deceased husband. That must be challenging.
Each time, Daniel closed it, but the comments continued.
We handled it by staying away from lengthy visits and only having courteous conversations. Our goal was to maintain harmony.
That is, until Carol went beyond being cruel to being plain evil.
Emma’s heart has always been good. As December drew near, she declared her intention to crochet 80 hats for kids in hospices who would be spending the holidays there.
She used YouTube lessons to teach herself the fundamentals and used her allowance money to purchase her first stash of yarn.
It was the same routine every day after school: homework, a little snack, followed by the soothing, rhythmic click-clack of her crochet hook.
I was really proud of her motivation and compassion. I had no idea how quickly everything would go wrong.
Each time she completed a hat, she would display it to us before putting it in a big bag by her bed.
By the time Daniel went for a two-day business trip, she was wearing hat number 80. She only needed to complete the last hat to attain her goal.
However, Carol had the ideal moment to attack when Daniel wasn’t around.
When Daniel goes on a trip, Carol likes to “check in.” Perhaps to make sure we’re maintaining the house “properly,” or to keep an eye on our behavior while Daniel isn’t there. I’ve given up attempting to solve it.
When Emma and I got home from our food shopping that afternoon, she hurried to her room to choose the colors for her next hat.
She let out a scream five seconds later.
“Mom… MOM!”
I hurried along the corridor after dropping the items.
I discovered her sobbing furiously on her room’s floor. Her bag of finished hats was gone, and her bed was empty.
In an attempt to understand her muffled cries, I knelt next to her and drew her in. Then I heard something behind me.
As if she were trying out for a role as a Victorian villain in a BBC play, Carol stood there sipping tea from one of my finest mugs.
She declared, “I threw the hats away if you’re looking for them.” “They were a time waster. Why should she pay strangers money?
“You threw away 80 hats meant for sick children?” What I was hearing was unbelievable, and it only grew worse.
Carol rolled her eyes. “They were unattractive. Inconsistent color schemes and subpar sewing You shouldn’t encourage her to engage in pointless activities just because she isn’t my blood relative and doesn’t represent my family.”
“They weren’t useless…” With new tears streaming down my shirt, Emma whimpered.
Carol sighed in agony and walked away. Emma broke down in tears, her heart broken by Carol’s callous malice.
Emma needed me, but I wanted to chase after Carol and face her. I drew her onto my lap and gave her the strongest hug I could.
I stepped outside to try to rescue what I could until she finally relaxed enough to let me go.
Emma’s hats weren’t in the trash cans, so I went through both ours and the neighbor’s.
That night, Emma sobbed herself to sleep.
Before retreating to the living room, I sat with her until her breathing evened out. I finally started crying as I sat there looking at the wall.
I considered calling Daniel multiple times, but ultimately chose to hold off as I knew he would need to devote all of his attention to his work.
Our family was irrevocably altered by the maelstrom that resulted from that choice.
I immediately felt bad about keeping quiet when Daniel eventually got home.
“Where’s my girl?” His voice was warm and loving as he called out. “I’d like to see the hats! During my absence, did you complete the previous one?
Emma started crying as soon as she heard the word “hats,” even though she had been watching TV.
Daniel’s expression fell. “Emma, what’s wrong?”
I told him everything as I escorted him back to the kitchen, away from Emma’s prying eyes.
His expression changed as I spoke from the weary, loving bewilderment of a returning traveler to a look of complete terror, and then to a trembling, frightening hatred that I had never seen in him before.
“I don’t even know what she did with them!” I was done. “I searched the trash, but I couldn’t find them. They must have gone somewhere with her.
He immediately returned to Emma, sat down, and wrapped his arm over her. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here, sweetie, but know that Grandma would never again harm you. Never.
After giving her a gentle forehead kiss, he got up to retrieve the car keys he had just dropped on the hallway table.
I said, “Where are you going?”
He murmured to me, “I’m going to do everything in my power to fix this,” “I’ll be back soon.”
He came back about two hours later.
I was excited to find out what had happened, so I hurried downstairs. He was talking on the phone as I entered the kitchen.
He was saying, “Mom, I’m home,” in a tone that was uncannily at odds with the rage on his face. “Come on over. I’m going to give you a surprise.
Carol showed up thirty minutes later.
“Daniel, I’m here for my surprise!” As she walked past me as if I didn’t exist, she yelled out. “I had to cancel a dinner reservation, so this better be good.”
Daniel raised a big trash bag.
I was astounded by what I saw when he opened it!
Emma’s hats were all over it!
“It took me nearly an hour to search your apartment building’s dumpster, but I found them.” He displayed one of Emma’s original pastel yellow hats. “This is an effort to bring some brightness into the lives of sick children, not just a child engaging in a hobby. And you ruined it.”
Carol gave a smirk. “For this, you went dumpster diving? You’re getting incredibly emotional over a bunch of unattractive hats, Daniel.
“They’re not ugly, and you didn’t just insult the project…” He lowered his voice. “My daughter was insulted by you. Her heart was broken by you, and you—”
“Oh, please!” Carol lost her temper. “She’s not your daughter.”
Daniel froze. Looking at Carol, he felt as though he was now seeing the truth about her and that she would always be after Emma.
“Get out,” he said. “We’re done.”
“What?” Carol sputtered.
“You heard me,” Daniel yelled. “You don’t talk to Emma anymore, and you don’t visit.”
Carol’s face became red. “Daniel! Your mommy is me! This cannot be done over some yarn.
“And I’m a father,” he responded, “to a ten-year-old girl who needs me to protect her from YOU.”
Carol murmured something astonishing as she turned to face me.
Really, are you allowing him to do this? She gave me a raised eyebrow.
“Of course. This is the least you deserve, Carol, because you chose to be toxic.”
Carol’s mouth fell open. She seemed to finally comprehend that she had lost after glancing from me to Daniel.
She walked out, slamming the front door so fiercely that the picture frames rattled on the wall. “You’ll regret this,” she shouted.
However, it didn’t stop there.
There was silence for the next few days. Quiet, but not serene. Emma didn’t crochet a single stitch, and she didn’t mention the caps.
She was broken by Carol’s actions, and I had no idea how to mend it.
Then Daniel brought a huge box home. He placed it in front of Emma, who was eating cereal at the table.
She gave it a blink. “What’s that?”
When Daniel opened it, fresh yarn skeins, crochet hooks, and packing materials were inside.
“If you wish to begin anew… I’ll assist you. Although I’m not particularly skilled at this type of thing, I’ll get better.”
He said, “Will you teach me to crochet?” as he awkwardly grasped a hook.
For the first time in days, Emma laughed.
Emma had her 80 hats within two weeks, but Daniel’s initial attempts were, well, comical. Unaware that Carol would soon return to our life with a vengeance, we shipped them out.
The director of the main hospice sent me an email two days later, expressing gratitude to Emma for the hats and stating that they had truly made the kids happy.
She requested authorization to share images of the kids donning the hats on the hospice’s social media accounts.
Emma smiled shyly and proudly as she nodded.
The post became very popular.
A flood of comments poured in from those curious about “the kind little girl who made the hats.” I allowed Emma to respond using my account.
She wrote, “I’m so happy they got the hats!” “My grandma threw the first set away, but my daddy helped me make them again.”
Later that day, Carol called Daniel in tears, utterly frantic.
“I’m being referred to as a monster! They’re bothering me, Daniel! “Take down the post!” she cried.
Daniel didn’t even speak out. Mother, we didn’t publish anything. Hospice did. And you need to have acted better if you don’t want people to know the truth about what you did.”
She broke down once more. “I’m being harassed! “This is awful!”
The last thing Daniel said was, “You earned it.”
Every weekend, Emma and Daniel continue to crochet together. The sound of two hooks working together creates a soothing click-clack that fills our home once more.
Carol continues to text on birthdays and holidays. She often asks whether we can make things right, but she has never shown regret.
Daniel only responds, “No.”
