A Difficult Day Made Even Harder

Today we have a mixed bag of information: yesterday's funeral report and a Too Much Information (TMI) special that documents my body’s every twinge-- a fruitless yet compulsive activity I’ve taken up because I suck at crocheting.

Okay, the funeral. H and I left well before dawn and arrived just in time for the final viewing before the casket was closed. We walked directly up to say our prayers and goodbyes since we were the last to do so. MIL, FIL, and H’s brothers were the only other people still there. MIL kept yakking loudly behind us as we kneeled in front of the coffin and said our goodbyes. It was very emotional, and I couldn’t believe MIL couldn’t be quiet for 5 minutes or step outside to talk. We stand up, and turned to face them (they were literally right there behind us…nothing like giving us a moment).

And here’s what went down, not 10 minutes after our arrival:

MIL looks at me and H join the audience she already had around her. She clears her throat, and says, “Grandma was 95 and she had 15 grandchildren, 20 great grandchildren and one great-great grandchild. Your father and I could live to 105 and we’ll still never have that kind of legacy, ever. With all you guys I wonder if we’ll ever even have more than one grandchild, I really doubt it. (referring to H’s brother’s one illegitimate child that is never seen).”

I walk straight out the door. H follows me. As I do, I hear H’s oldest brother respond, “Look, Mom, times were different even just a generation ago. Grandma’s kids their own kids early and fast, like puppies (yes, he said puppies--which makes him a puppy, too). H and Emmie haven’t started yet, and even if you don’t have more grandkids you should be happy with what you’ve got.”

Wow. You go, brother-in-law. MIL’s selfish, insensitive, thoughtless speech still felt like a knife in my heart. I can’t believe she said this to us knowing we are facing IF, knowing how devastated we are about it. How about the fact that we’re at a funeral and we’re there for grandma, the fact that she died the day of our transfer, the fact that we’re now experiencing the horrible 2 week wait. Even if she knew none of these things, it was still a horrible thing to say, to us and to her other two sons.

Since H and I walked outside, I figured she would realize what an awful thing she had done and apologize later, privately, to H. She didn’t. Instead she bugged us 3 times about being able to come visit us in 2 weeks. (they always visit at the end of September to go to a festival near our house.) H said—considering everything we’re going through right now, I don’t think so, but we’ll let you know. When she asked me, I said—I doubt it. If we weren’t at a funeral I would have said something to her about her insensitivity but instead I just kept as far away from her as possible. She HAD to have noticed it. I wouldn’t even look her in the eye the few times she came near me. (When she did come near me, it was to pick off a stray piece of lint on my jacket and to try to fuss with my hair—what am I twelve?)

You cannot imagine the evil thoughts I had about her all day. I’m going to hell for sure. I just hope the high level of negativity I felt has not done harm to my poor embryos. H agreed that what she said was just awful, and he sees more and more how terrible she is to us. Still, she’s his mom and he will give her the benefit of the doubt. So, he allowed me to vent about her for several hours, then cut me off—enough, he said. I can’t blame him. I’m even tired of hearing me complain about her. Which is why I should end this post and move on to part two—TMI about my body movements. Back in a flash.