During what I thought was a normal hospital visit, my husband’s nurse pulled me aside and whispered: “Listen, I don’t want to alarm you, but… LOOK UNDER YOUR HUSBAND’S BED when you go back to the room.” I wasn’t prepared for what I found and it had me reaching for my phone to dial 911.
I’m still reeling as I write this. Part of me wants to laugh at how ridiculous it all turned out, but the other part? The other part can’t stop replaying every stressful second of last Friday night.
An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney
Ethan, my husband, has been in the hospital for over a week now. He had surgery to fix an old injury that had been bothering him for years — a complication with his hip that finally caught up with him. He’s doing better now, recovering, but it hasn’t been easy. Between working, taking care of the kids, and making sure he’s comfortable, my days have been… hectic, to say the least.
“Mom, when’s Dad coming home?” Tommy had asked that morning, pushing his cereal around his bowl.
“Soon, sweetie,” I’d replied, trying to hide the exhaustion in my voice. “He needs to get stronger first.”
“But I miss him,” Sarah had chimed in, her bottom lip trembling. “It’s not the same without him here.”
“I know, baby. I miss him too. More than you know.” I’d pulled them both into a tight hug, breathing in their familiar scents and drawing strength from their warmth.
A man in a hospital ward | Source: Midjourney
Normally, I visit Ethan in the mornings or afternoons while the kids are at school. But last Friday, my dad offered to take the kids for the night.
“You look like you could use a break,” he’d said, his eyes full of concern. “When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”
I couldn’t remember, honestly. But his offer felt like a lifeline. I thought it was a wonderful idea to surprise Ethan with an evening visit. And maybe brighten his day a little.
When I walked into his hospital room, he looked up from his phone and immediately froze.
“Hey,” I said, smiling as I set my bag down on the chair. “You weren’t expecting me, huh?”
A startled man | Source: Midjourney
He blinked a couple of times and gave me a nervous laugh. “No. I mean, uh, didn’t you come earlier today?”
“I did. But I had some extra time, so here I am.” I shrugged, sitting down next to him. “I miss you, you know.”
“Sam…” he whispered, reaching for my hand but stopping halfway. “You shouldn’t… I mean, you must be exhausted. The kids —”
“The kids are with Dad,” I interrupted, studying his face. Something in his expression made my stomach twist. “They miss you so much, Ethan. Sarah cried again this morning.”
His face crumpled for a moment. “God, I hate this. Being stuck here, leaving you to handle everything…”
A woman standing at a hospital ward doorway and waving her hand | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, that’s what marriage is about, right? In sickness and in health?” I tried to joke, but my voice caught slightly.
Ethan smiled, but there was this… I don’t know, distracted look in his eyes. Like his brain was working overtime on something else.
“You okay?” I asked, watching him closely. “You seem… different tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He picked at the corner of his blanket. “How are the kids?”
We made small talk for a bit, and I peeled an apple for him — his favorite snack. But the whole time, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Ethan’s answers were shorter than usual. And he kept glancing at the door.
A door | Source: Pexels
“Remember when we first started dating?” I said, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence. “You used to bring me apples every day because you heard somewhere that ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away.'”
He laughed, but it sounded strained.
“Ethan,” I reached for his hand again, and this time he let me take it. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?”
A nervous man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
“No!” he said too quickly, then softened his tone. “No, I’m fine. Really. Just… tired.”
I tried not to overthink it. I figured maybe he was just tired. Surgery takes a toll, right?
But then, on my way to toss the apple peelings in the trashcan outside the ward, I ran into Carla.
Carla is one of Ethan’s nurses. She’s warm, chatty, and the kind of person who instantly puts you at ease. We’d spoken a few times before, but this time, she seemed anxious.
A nurse holding a clipboard | Source: Pexels
She stepped into my path, glancing nervously down the hall before lowering her voice. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
Her hands were trembling slightly as she fidgeted with her ID badge. “I shouldn’t be doing this. We’re not supposed to get involved in patients’ personal lives, but…”
“Carla,” I grabbed her arm gently, my heart starting to race. “You’re scaring me. Is something wrong with Ethan? Did the tests show something?”
She shook her head quickly. “No, no, it’s not medical. It’s…” She bit her lip. Her eyes darted toward Ethan’s room, and her voice dropped even lower. “Listen, I don’t want to alarm you, but… look under your husband’s bed when you go back to the room.”
I frowned, confused. “Under his bed? Why?”
A confused woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
“Just trust me,” she said quickly, her expression almost pleading. “You’ll understand when you see it.”
“Carla, please,” my voice cracked slightly. “If something’s wrong, just tell me. I can handle it.”
“I can’t,” she whispered, looking over her shoulder. “But you need to know. Just… look.”
She turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, a pit of dread growing in my stomach.
What was she talking about? Was something wrong with Ethan? Was there some kind of secret I should’ve noticed?
“Wait!” I called after her, but she already left, her shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor.
A horrified woman calling out to someone | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath and headed back to the room, trying to act normal. My hands were shaking so badly that I had to shove them into my pockets.
Ethan was lying back in his bed, scrolling through his phone again.
“Everything okay?” he asked as I sat down.
“Yeah. Just threw out some trash.”
But my mind was racing. Carla’s words echoed in my head: “Look under his bed.”
I needed an excuse. Something casual. I quickly grabbed the apple I’d been peeling earlier and pretended to drop it.
A woman holding an apple | Source: Midjourney
“Oops,” I said, crouching down.
That’s when I saw it. My heart stopped.
There, under the bed, were eyes… staring back at me.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. But no. There was a woman crouched there, staring back at me like a deer caught in headlights.
“What the —” I shot to my feet. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing under my husband’s bed?”
Ethan’s heart monitor started beeping faster. “Wait, wait… Samantha, it’s not what you —”
“Don’t you dare ‘wait’ me! After everything we’ve been through? After ten years of being together?”
Grayscale shot of a woman hiding | Source: Midjourney
“Sam, please —”
I didn’t let him finish. “What is she doing here, Ethan?” My hands were shaking as I grabbed my phone. “I’m calling the police. What is this? Some kind of joke?”
The woman scrambled out from under the bed, her face as red as a firetruck. She looked mortified.
“Please!” Ethan started to panic. He reached for my phone, wincing as the movement pulled at his IV. “Samantha, stop. It’s not what you think.”
“Not what I think?” I stared at him, my chest heaving. Tears were burning in my eyes. “There’s a WOMAN under your bed, Ethan! What else am I supposed to think? That she dropped her contact lens under there?”
“Miss Samantha, I can explain —” the woman started.
An angry woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
“How dare you?” I yelled, backing away from both of them. “How long has this been going on? Is this why you’ve been acting so strange, Ethan?”
The heart monitor’s beeping grew more insistent. Ethan shifted in the bed, wincing as he carefully swung his legs over the side. His movements were slow and deliberate, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress for support. The IV pole rattled softly as he stood, unsteady on his feet, his hospital gown fluttering slightly with the effort.
I could see him struggling to keep his balance, his knuckles white as he braced himself. “Please, just listen to me,” he said, his voice trembling. “I can explain.”
An agitated man | Source: Midjourney
“Explain WHAT, Ethan? That you’re cheating on me in a hospital room? While I’m at home, taking care of our children, running myself ragged trying to keep everything together?”
“No! God, no. It’s not like that.” He glanced at the woman, who looked like she wanted to sink into the floor. “Tell her,” he said.
The woman hesitated, then mumbled, “I’m a wedding planner.”
I blinked. “A… what?”
She straightened, still avoiding my gaze. “Ethan hired me to help organize a surprise wedding. For you.”
I stared at her like she’d just spoken another language. “A… wedding? For me? What are you talking about?”
A wedding setup | Source: Pexels
Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s true. I’ve been working with her to plan a wedding. For us. A real one.”
“But… but why all the secrecy? Why hide her under the bed like some… some teenager sneaking around?”
“Because you weren’t supposed to be here!” Ethan’s voice broke. “We’ve been planning this for months.”
A sad man | Source: Midjourney
The woman nodded awkwardly. “We were finalizing the details — your favorite colors, flowers, everything. He wanted it all to be perfect. We overheard you talking to someone on the phone outside the ward, and we didn’t want to give away the surprise… so he told me to hide under the bed. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.”
“I found our old wedding photo the other day,” Ethan continued, his eyes glistening. “Remember? City hall, you in that simple white dress, me in my dad’s old suit? You deserved so much more than that rushed ceremony.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The anger I’d felt moments ago melted into something softer, something that made my chest ache.
A woman overwhelmed with emotions | Source: Midjourney
“You… you were planning a wedding?” I whispered. “All this time?”
Ethan nodded, reaching for my hand. “I know it sounds crazy, but… I just wanted to surprise you. To make you happy. To give you the wedding day you always dreamed about before…”
“Before what?” I pressed, squeezing his hand.
“Before anything else can go wrong,” he whispered. “I love you, Sam. More than anything. I want to marry you again, properly this time, surrounded by our kids, family, and friends.”
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at him. Then, slowly, I started to laugh, tears streaming down my face.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
“You are insane!” I said, shaking my head. “Do you have any idea how close I was to calling 911? I thought… God, I thought the worst.”
Ethan gave me a sheepish smile. “Yeah… sorry about that. Not my brightest moment, having Jessica hide under the bed.”
The wedding planner — Jessica — muttered another apology before slipping out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.
As the door clicked shut, Ethan reached for my hand. “So… what do you think? Still mad at me?”
A woman walking away | Source: Pexels
I squeezed his hand, my heart full. “Mad? No. But you owe me a real explanation… and maybe a drink when we get out of here!” I laughed, then added softly, “And Ethan? I don’t care if we have to have our first dance in wheelchairs when we’re 90. As long as it’s with you.”
He pulled me close, and I could feel his tears dampening my shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered. “Even after ten years, I fall more in love with you every day.”
“I love you too,” I murmured back. “But next time you plan a surprise? Maybe don’t hide the planner under the bed!”
His laughter, warm and genuine this time, filled the hospital room, and everything felt right again.
A couple embracing each other | Source: Unsplash
How to Recognize Sneaky Narcissistic Traits in Mothers
Narcissism is a phenomenon in which a person with low self-esteem is afraid of losing authority in the eyes of others, and they begin to manipulate their friends, colleagues, and family to appear better than they really are. These people are so determined. We decided to imagine what it’s like to have your beloved mother like this.
They have a distorted perception of love and achievement, making it nearly impossible for them to make you feel good enough.
Their self-worth hinges on external validation and a facade of perfection. This creates a moving target for your worth in their eyes. You can achieve great things, but their praise might be laced with criticism, or they might simply shift the goalposts to a new, unattainable standard. This leaves you perpetually striving for an unachievable level of approval.
Additionally, their happiness is often transactional. They dole out affection when it suits them, leaving you confused about what truly earns their love. This inconsistency fosters insecurity and self-doubt, making you question your own value no matter what you accomplish. Ultimately, a narcissistic mother’s inability to offer genuine, unconditional love creates a core belief that you’ll never be good enough, regardless of your efforts.
Narcissistic mothers won’t let their kids’ successes overshadow their own.
Narcissistic mothers crave attention and view their children’s achievements through a distorted lens. While they might brag about their child’s successes superficially, they can’t handle being outshined. This stems from a deep insecurity and a fragile sense of self. Their child’s triumphs become a threat, rather than a source of pride. They may downplay the accomplishment, subtly criticize, or even try to one-up their child with their own past glories, all to maintain a sense of superiority.
She’s only worried about her own problems.
A narcissistic mother’s world often revolves around herself, leaving little room for her child’s emotions or experiences. Their own needs for validation and admiration take priority. They struggle to empathize with their child’s struggles, viewing them as inconveniences or attention-grabbing tactics. This is because the narcissist lacks the emotional maturity to see their child as a separate being with valid feelings. Their child’s problems become burdens to be managed, rather than opportunities for connection and support.
These mothers humiliate their children.
There are a couple of reasons why narcissistic mothers might resort to humiliating their children. One is to maintain control. By publicly criticizing, mocking, or exaggerating their child’s flaws, the mother keeps them feeling insecure and dependent. This fragile self-esteem makes the child less likely to challenge the mother’s authority or seek independence.
Another reason is to bolster the narcissist’s own fragile ego. Putting their child down creates a clear hierarchy where the mother is always superior. This can be especially pronounced if the child shows any potential to outshine the mother, triggering a need to cut them down to size. Ultimately, the humiliation serves the narcissist’s own needs for power and self-importance, leaving the child feeling emotionally bruised and diminished.
She makes kids feel guilty for getting something.
Narcissistic mothers often induce guilt in their children for receiving gifts or achieving success because it reinforces their own sense of control. They might make comments like, «You don’t deserve this, there are others who need it more,» implying the child is selfish for wanting something good. This guilt trip serves a few purposes.
Firstly, it keeps the child feeling indebted and obligated to please the mother. Secondly, it deflects attention away from the mother’s inability to be genuinely happy for her child’s good fortune. Ultimately, by making their child feel guilty, the narcissistic mother manipulates the situation to maintain the focus on themselves and their emotional needs.
She thinks she always deserves the best.
A narcissistic mother’s belief in her own deservingness stems from a distorted sense of self-importance. Deep down, she craves admiration and validation, and views herself as superior to others. This inflated ego convinces her that she deserves the best in life, regardless of her actions or contributions. It’s a constant need to be seen as special and entitled.
This sense of entitlement can manifest in various ways, from expecting lavish gifts and unwavering support to feeling justified in cutting in line or bending the rules. For a narcissistic mother, the «best» isn’t just about material possessions, but also about the constant flow of attention, praise, and control that reinforces her grandiosity.
Her love is unstable. When she needs something, she’s kind. When she doesn’t, she’s rude.
Narcissistic mothers often exhibit a transactional kind of love, where affection is dangled like a carrot. When their needs are unmet, their self-absorption takes center stage. They might become critical, dismissive, or even cold towards their child. Conversely, when they require something — maybe errands run, emotional support, or a public image boost — the kindness faucet turns on.
This emotional inconsistency leaves the child confused and insecure. They never quite know what version of their mother they’ll encounter, creating a constant state of walking on eggshells to avoid the unpredictable shift from loving to cold.
She cares too much about how other people see her.
A narcissistic mother craves external validation and uses how others perceive her as a mirror for her fragile self-esteem. Her self-worth hinges on admiration and a cultivated image of perfection. This makes her hyper-aware of how others view her, particularly in her role as a mother. She might brag excessively about her child’s accomplishments, not necessarily out of pride, but to reflect well on her own parenting skills.
Conversely, any perceived shortcomings in her child become a threat to her image. She might downplay their achievements or even criticize them publicly to maintain a facade of control and superiority in the eyes of others. Ultimately, the well-being and genuine connection with her child become secondary to managing the public perception of a perfect mother and family.
She complains about people that do something against her will.
Narcissistic mothers view any challenge to their control as a personal attack. Their rigid sense of self-importance dictates that things should go their way. When someone, especially their child, dares to act independently or disagree, it triggers a deep sense of entitlement being violated. They may lash out by complaining excessively, playing the victim, or attempting to manipulate the situation back to their desired outcome.
These complaints serve a dual purpose: firstly, to punish the person for disobeying, and secondly, to garner sympathy or support from others, further reinforcing their position of authority. Ultimately, a narcissistic mother’s complaints about those who defy her are less about the specific action and more about maintaining a power dynamic where she remains in control.
Narcissistic mothers are jealous of their daughters’ beauty. And they pretend to be caring.
A narcissistic mother’s insecurity can turn a daughter’s blossoming beauty into a source of hidden jealousy. They may outwardly offer compliments laced with backhanded remarks, like «You look pretty, but maybe try a different shade of lipstick.» This thinly veiled criticism undermines the daughter’s confidence while maintaining a facade of caring.
Deeper down, the mother might feel threatened by her daughter’s youthful beauty, a stark reminder of her own fading youth and potential loss of attention. This jealousy can manifest in various ways, from sabotaging the daughter’s attempts to dress up for an event to subtly comparing her looks to others. The narcissistic mother’s mask of concern hides a desire to control the narrative, ensuring her daughter’s beauty doesn’t overshadow her own.
She criticizes a lot but almost never gives praise.
Narcissistic mothers often fall into a harsh critic pattern for a few reasons. Firstly, their self-worth is fueled by a need for control and a sense of superiority. Constant criticism keeps their child feeling insecure and dependent, less likely to challenge their authority. Secondly, genuine praise can feel threatening to a narcissist. If their child is successful or confident, it might overshadow the mother’s own perceived importance.
Instead of celebrating their child’s achievements, they might downplay them or even resort to nitpicking flaws. Ultimately, the lack of praise becomes a tool for manipulation. By withholding validation, the narcissistic mother keeps her child striving for approval, a dynamic that reinforces her own sense of power and control.
They’re angry if someone else is in the spotlight.
A narcissistic mother thrives on being the center of attention. Their fragile self-esteem craves constant validation and admiration. When someone else, especially their child, receives praise or recognition, it’s perceived as a direct threat. This triggers a surge of anger because it disrupts their carefully curated image of superiority. They might downplay the other person’s accomplishment, subtly criticize them, or even try to steal the spotlight back to themselves with tales of their own past glories.
This anger isn’t about protecting their child, but about protecting their own inflated sense of self-importance. They can’t bear to share the spotlight, and their reaction reflects a deep-seated insecurity that can leave their child feeling confused and emotionally neglected.
Narcissistic mothers might constantly remind you of the things they’ve done for you.
One is to create a sense of obligation and guilt. By replaying a litany of sacrifices and favors, they make you feel indebted, making it harder to disagree with them or assert your independence. It’s a way to control you through emotional manipulation. Another reason is to inflate their own sense of importance.
Recounting their «good deeds» reinforces their narrative as the selfless caregiver deserving of constant praise and gratitude. Ultimately, these constant reminders are about them, not you. It’s a tactic to maintain power within the relationship and ensure you remain focused on their needs rather than developing your own sense of self.
These narcissistic traits can take a toll. But there’s good news! Our next piece dives into how these experiences shape you, and what you heal from it.
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