The cold, hard reality, as voiced my me
Two very significant conversations occurred today, in which my role was more of a participatory listener; yet, I nevertheless felt compelled to put in my two cents' worth of pessimism.
I must be a joy to work with.
Conversation one was stumbled upon as I came into the middle of an already established tale of the fresh engagement of a co worker's son and the girlfriend she never liked anyway. They're getting married because of an undisclosed uterine condition that will render her infertile (if not already), and they "need to get a jump on having at least one child before she can't". Whatever this problem is, it "can only be cured by menopause or hysterectomy". Mind racing... thinking... fibroids, endometriosis...?? The bare bones of it is, she doesn't currently have health insurance, but will once they tie the knot. Then, they can undergo further testing and treatment, so "she can have the baby in the next year or two before it's too late". The girlfriend smokes heavily, reportedly has abnormal cycles, and is nearing 30. The mother-in-law-to-be stated that she didn't like the girl, but she figures she will at least get a grandchild out of the union. They'll be married in the spring, and hope to be pregnant by the end of next year.
I wanted SO BAD to ask what the diagnosis (if known) was. Instead, I cautioned that things don't always go as planned, and I wished them luck because it sounds kinda risky. How encouraging could I have been? I felt bad after I said it, but the nonchalance attitude made me bristle.
After listening day after day about this or that unplanned pregnancy, announcements that so-and-so intends to be pregnant by October so she can be off for the summer, and someone whining about having ANOTHER boy when they really wanted a girl, I am at the end of my kindness limit. Usually I walk away from the conversations, or at least keep my mouth shut, but today was not one of those days.
Conversation number two came when someone from another department wandered in for unrelated business, and offhandedly mentioned that she was going to be a grandmother "on Christmas Day!". Everyone was so excited! This woman "wished that they could schedule an induction for the week before so [she] could be off to visit". She was disappointed that the doctor wouldn't induce. Can you imagine the nerve of him, expecting the mother to go naturally whenever "that stubborn child decided he was ready"? Add to that the inconvenience of laboring on Christmas; we all know how perfectly timed deliveries are, right? She went on the further explain that this is her first grandchild. She had been "keeping her mouth shut" for the first three years, but decided she couldn't wait anymore and "started dropping hints". She even bought her DIL V!ctor!a's $ecret lingere to "get the ball rolling". Finally, five years into the marriage, they confessed that they were having trouble conceiving. "Can you imagine?" she asked. "I told them something must be wrong, but the doctor didn't do anything about it. But she's pregnant now, so I guess I worried about nothing".
Nothing. She's worried about nothing. Besides a supposed Christmas birth.
Did she really need me to detail all the various things she COULD worry about? Probably not.
I commented that it took us 15 years to have our second child, and he was stillborn.
"I'm sorry," she did say, followed by "but you do have one. Maybe that's all you need. God only gives us what we can handle."
I swallowed hard and chewed carefully on my tongue before launching headfirst into the standard "I don't think "god" has anything to do with it. If you mean to imply that "he" felt I could handle a dead baby over a live one, I believe you are sorely mistaken." She changed the subject to ask about my particular fertility struggles, since she is so sure something must be wrong with her son and his wife that it takes them 5 years to conceive, and maybe I could offer some advice; all I could say was "no". "There are a variety of infertility diagnoses available, and their doctor should be able to assist them if they continue to struggle. All I know is that my miscarriages and stillbirth have made me a lot more cynical, and I wish them well. If you look at the big picture, a holiday-season birth is better than nothing at all, am I right?"
I was, of course.
I fear I am quickly becoming "The One" whom others are warned about. I don't care. I'm there to do a job, and having to listen to people bitching about births is not part of my assigned duty.
I must be a joy to work with.
Conversation one was stumbled upon as I came into the middle of an already established tale of the fresh engagement of a co worker's son and the girlfriend she never liked anyway. They're getting married because of an undisclosed uterine condition that will render her infertile (if not already), and they "need to get a jump on having at least one child before she can't". Whatever this problem is, it "can only be cured by menopause or hysterectomy". Mind racing... thinking... fibroids, endometriosis...?? The bare bones of it is, she doesn't currently have health insurance, but will once they tie the knot. Then, they can undergo further testing and treatment, so "she can have the baby in the next year or two before it's too late". The girlfriend smokes heavily, reportedly has abnormal cycles, and is nearing 30. The mother-in-law-to-be stated that she didn't like the girl, but she figures she will at least get a grandchild out of the union. They'll be married in the spring, and hope to be pregnant by the end of next year.
I wanted SO BAD to ask what the diagnosis (if known) was. Instead, I cautioned that things don't always go as planned, and I wished them luck because it sounds kinda risky. How encouraging could I have been? I felt bad after I said it, but the nonchalance attitude made me bristle.
After listening day after day about this or that unplanned pregnancy, announcements that so-and-so intends to be pregnant by October so she can be off for the summer, and someone whining about having ANOTHER boy when they really wanted a girl, I am at the end of my kindness limit. Usually I walk away from the conversations, or at least keep my mouth shut, but today was not one of those days.
Conversation number two came when someone from another department wandered in for unrelated business, and offhandedly mentioned that she was going to be a grandmother "on Christmas Day!". Everyone was so excited! This woman "wished that they could schedule an induction for the week before so [she] could be off to visit". She was disappointed that the doctor wouldn't induce. Can you imagine the nerve of him, expecting the mother to go naturally whenever "that stubborn child decided he was ready"? Add to that the inconvenience of laboring on Christmas; we all know how perfectly timed deliveries are, right? She went on the further explain that this is her first grandchild. She had been "keeping her mouth shut" for the first three years, but decided she couldn't wait anymore and "started dropping hints". She even bought her DIL V!ctor!a's $ecret lingere to "get the ball rolling". Finally, five years into the marriage, they confessed that they were having trouble conceiving. "Can you imagine?" she asked. "I told them something must be wrong, but the doctor didn't do anything about it. But she's pregnant now, so I guess I worried about nothing".
Nothing. She's worried about nothing. Besides a supposed Christmas birth.
Did she really need me to detail all the various things she COULD worry about? Probably not.
I commented that it took us 15 years to have our second child, and he was stillborn.
"I'm sorry," she did say, followed by "but you do have one. Maybe that's all you need. God only gives us what we can handle."
I swallowed hard and chewed carefully on my tongue before launching headfirst into the standard "I don't think "god" has anything to do with it. If you mean to imply that "he" felt I could handle a dead baby over a live one, I believe you are sorely mistaken." She changed the subject to ask about my particular fertility struggles, since she is so sure something must be wrong with her son and his wife that it takes them 5 years to conceive, and maybe I could offer some advice; all I could say was "no". "There are a variety of infertility diagnoses available, and their doctor should be able to assist them if they continue to struggle. All I know is that my miscarriages and stillbirth have made me a lot more cynical, and I wish them well. If you look at the big picture, a holiday-season birth is better than nothing at all, am I right?"
I was, of course.
I fear I am quickly becoming "The One" whom others are warned about. I don't care. I'm there to do a job, and having to listen to people bitching about births is not part of my assigned duty.
posted by Julie at 5:35 PM
3 Comments:
God only gives us what we can handle??! Here, can you handle my elbow to the back of your neck, Bitch?
I guarantee if that DIL was a blogger, she'd be all over what a tool her MIL is.
As for the first futureMIL: she does understand that when her son gets a divorce that the exDIL will end up with that potential baby, right?
Seriously. I couldn't keep quiet, either.
I physically recoiled from that god comment. I'm so glad you put her in the picture like that. As time goes on I have less problem doing that for people. F*ck 'em. Real life can suck and I hope they never have cause to hear your words ringing in their ears as they face tragedy. Ungrateful, truly.
Sorry for the late comment, I'm just seeing this... What a twerp! I'm amazed that you could be so civil -- you handled the situation very gracefully!
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