A Night That Changed Everything: Miscarriages, Betrayal, and a Mother-in-Law's Curse
I caught my mother in-law in my yard at 3Am,naked and she confessed painful things. I've attached the video,listen and I'll try to translate to those who don't understand sepedi language. Here is the video and the truth behind everything.
There are moments in life that feel as though they are plucked straight from a nightmare. Moments that you wish were just a bad dream but that turn out to be your reality. One such night, I found myself in the middle of a terrifying experience that would alter my life in ways I could never have imagined.
My story begins with the struggle of wanting children. My husband and I had been married for some time, but I had suffered several miscarriages along the way. It was a painful journey, filled with loss and heartache. Despite this, I had three children from my past marriage that I loved dearly, but my longing for a child with my husband remained. It was a desire that weighed heavily on my heart, and the constant miscarriages only deepened my pain.
For a while, my husband’s mother, who never accepted me, looked on with judgment. Her views on our marriage were clear. She never truly saw me as good enough for her son. Despite my accomplishments—being an educated woman with a good job and earning more than my husband—she saw me as someone who lived off her son. In her eyes, I was nothing more than a burden to him, even though everything we had, including the house we lived in, was mine.
One night, when the pain of the miscarriages seemed unbearable, I sought spiritual guidance. I turned to a prophet who suggested I embark on a journey of prayer and fasting. This meant waking up every hour to pray. I committed myself to this, hoping that somehow, through faith and spiritual practice, I might find peace and healing.
On one of those nights, at exactly 3 AM, I woke up as usual to pray. But something felt off. I couldn't shake the unease that lingered in the air. I prayed harder, asking for strength and comfort. After I finished, I heard a knock on my window. It was strange—who would be knocking at my window in the middle of the night? I gathered the courage to look outside.
What I saw took my breath away. It was my mother-in-law, standing in the yard, completely naked. I froze in disbelief. She had come all the way from Limpopo, and she was standing there, holding a 1.25L Coca-Cola bottle wrapped in red wool. Her words hit me like a thunderstorm. She said, “This is your womb, and you will never have children for my son.” The anger in her eyes was unmistakable, and in that moment, I realized the horror of what I was witnessing.
My husband wasn’t home; he was working a night shift, so it was just me and my children. I continued to pray, feeling a mix of fear and disbelief. As I prayed, I noticed my mother-in-law was growing weaker and weaker, as though the energy she once had was draining from her. She seemed lost, disoriented.
I called my neighbors to witness what was happening. It was important for someone else to see this, to confirm that it wasn't my imagination running wild. They came to my yard, and what happened next is something I will never forget. When confronted, my mother-in-law confessed everything. She admitted that she was the reason behind my miscarriages. She openly confessed that she wanted me dead, that she hated me with a passion, and that my very existence disgusted her.
I was left speechless. I didn’t know what to say or how to react to such hatred. The only thing I could do was record the conversation, so that my husband would have proof of what had occurred. I didn’t take video footage because, despite everything, I still wanted to respect him. I didn’t want to drag him into something that would tear apart his family, but I needed him to know the truth.
In the end, my mother-in-law left, accusing me of bewitching his mother. She said I was playing the victim, that I was the cause of everything that had happened, and that I had somehow manipulated the situation. Her words crushed me. She couldn’t see that I had endured so much pain, both physically and emotionally.
When my husband came home, I tried to explain everything. But his response, one that hurt more than any physical blow, was that he didn’t believe me. He sided with his mother, as if she were the victim in all of this. He called me weak, and blamed me for everything. A part of me still believes he didn’t mean those harsh words—perhaps he was under some spell, some influence that I couldn’t understand. But another part of me wonders if I’ll ever truly know the truth.
It’s been months now since that night, but the scar remains. It’s not just about the miscarriages or the betrayal of my mother-in-law—it’s about the deep pain of being misunderstood, of being accused of things I didn’t do. I still pray every night, though now it’s more for strength than for children. I wonder if I’ll ever find peace with my husband’s family. Will they ever accept me? Will they ever see me for who I truly am, instead of the person they’ve created in their minds?
This journey has been one of the hardest chapters of my life, and it’s one I wouldn’t wish on anyone. But perhaps in sharing it, I can find some comfort, or at the very least, someone who understands. If you’re out there, facing your own struggles—whether with family, fertility, or any other hardship—know that you are not alone. Sometimes, the hardest part of healing is finding the courage to speak the truth, no matter how painful it may be.
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