The Mother-In-Law Conundrum

Mother-in-laws. They are the butt of so many jokes and entire movies have been made around the mother-in-law / daughter-in-law relationship. Advice columns regularly post letters from both sides of the table; distraught daughter-in-laws who can't abide by their overbearing mother-in-laws and mother-in-laws who feel as though their daughter-in-laws are the devil's spawn, aren't good enough for their sons or are simply raising their grandchildren the wrong way. Many times these uneasy relationships start long before the wedding begging the question of whether any mother thinks a woman is good enough for her son. One really shouldn't stereotype the mother-in-law relationship since there are so many positive and healthy relationships between mothers and their son's spouses, but for some reason they do. Some mother-in-laws are wonderful, others benign while some are toxic at best and down right horrible at worst. It really runs the gamut.

I am a daughter-in-law. My relationship with my mother-in-law can at best be described as frosty. She has many qualities that make me uncomfortable or on some days down right angry but I will readily give her credit for raising an incredibly caring and sensitive son. At the same time I'm sure her list of my deficiencies as a daughter-in-law is equally extensive. But I was raised to respect my elders and for the first few years of knowing her I bit my tongue entirely when she confronted me with things that frankly I thought were none of her business. Had I been younger or even older at the time I would have likely confronted her comments directly and established boundaries that I was comfortable with from day one. But at the time, and because my relationship with her son was still in the fledgling stages, I said nothing. In hindsight this was a mistake because this only perpetuated my resentment of her since at heart, I am someone who speaks my mind. I finally started speaking my mind when I became a mother myself. To put it mildly, it didn't go well and my honestly continues to place a strain on our relationship. Some days I wonder if our relationship is one I can salvage but I have come to the sad conclusion that because we are both stubborn it is impossible for either one of us to budge or change our ways. Geographic distance makes it a bit easier to deal with this friction and because I love her son deeply I usually do my best to maintain peace when we are together. It isn't easy and sometimes it isn't possible and it pains me to put my husband in a situation where he would need to choose between the two of us. 

But I am also a mother of a son. Although he is barely out of diapers I often find myself thinking about his future and what it might hold. I envision his having a wife, children and a fulfilling life. I would like to think that I will embrace a future wife as she will me but I need to be honest. Will I ever think anyone is good enough for my little boy? How will I feel when I am not the number one female in his life? Will I be able to accept the fact that his focus --as it should--will turn to his new nuclear family rather than me? When I think of my own mother-in-law and our issues, I pause to wonder how I would feel if any future daughter-in-law feels the same way about me. First, it saddens me. Would I honestly be able to step back, even if it meant not being an active part of his life, in order for his relationship with his wife to be stronger? I try to be open minded and view our situation with detached indifference but it is really hard since the issue is so personal. I am just too close to it.

And this is a conversation I've had with several friends who are all mothers of boys. We all think we will be different from our own mother-in-laws. We say we will welcome our daughter-in-laws with open arms and respect their boundaries. We say that we will not critique their parenting skills nor will we comment on how they treat our sons or raise their families. At the moment we promise we won't lay on guilt trips over forgotten birthdays or holidays spent elsewhere since we will recognize that their focus is now on their immediate families. Now we say we will wait for invitations rather than force ourselves on our sons and their families. We promise to step back and go on with our lives if our sons choose to support and side with their spouses over us, the women who gave birth to them.

But will we? I hope so, but only time will tell.

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

Many parents may disagree with me but personally, I love this time of year. Yes, I am one of those parents who gets excited about the start of school. I was talking to a fellow mom the other day who was bemoaning the start of the school year and the fact her children would be gone from the house for so many hours each day. I smiled and nodded and thought (perhaps a bit guiltily) that I was actually looking forward to it. Of course, it probably helps that my son has been beyond excited at the prospect of starting school again. For weeks he's been getting up each morning and asking if today was the day he would get to go to school. And finally, today was. (Actually, yesterday was his first day of school but in true Belgian form, Wednesdays are half days with a noon dismissal so it didn't really count). So with his backpack filled with his required school supplies off he happily went this morning for the first day of school and I don't know who was more excited, Sidney or his mom.

Actually I've always loved this time of year. Sure I was one of those students, like my son, who loved school. School was always the one place I felt free to be myself. I loved the learning, the socializing and the routine. But I also love everything about the fall season-- the cooler weather, the need to wear sweaters instead of skimpy summer clothing and growing up in New England, the changing leaves. January 1st may mark the beginning of a new year on the calendar, but for me, the first day of school is the start of my new year. I felt this way growing up and still feel that way now. Before Sidney started school I always felt a bit lost each fall since I didn't have an "event" to mark the beginning of my new year. But now I do.

We had a wonderful, fun filled summer where we were always on the go but now we're all ready to return to a routine. For us that means school and work, swim lessons and soccer team and lots of driving on my part to get get everyone where they need to be. It means shorter days and earlier bedtimes with weekends becoming the focus of our family time. But personally, it also means that despite the crazy schedule I am back to having time to myself. With school out my only "me" time was before Sidney woke in the morning or after he went to bed in the evening (and my child is an earlier riser as well as a night owl). The hours in between were filled with entertaining a little boy filled with thousands of questions with endless energy. It was fun but honestly, I am tired from our busy summer and am looking forward to having a few minutes to myself.

So how am I spending my first full day alone? I'm getting a long needed hair cut and then taking myself to lunch....all...by....myself. In the days to come I'll get into my own routine of going to the gym, resuming French lessons and writing more. Call me crazy but I'm looking forward to being able to leisurely grocery shop all by myself then returning home and experimenting with new recipes. There are so many parts of the city I have yet to discover and I look forward to checking out the museums and historical sites that to date I have only passed by. And because it isn't all fun and games, now that we actually have all of our furniture, I will be able to finally unpack the last of the boxes that are sitting in our cellar. Yes, I love this time of year but I dare say my family does as well.

All set for the first day

On Motherhood

Six months old and being introduced
to my alma mater

Motherhood. Its the hardest job I've ever had or ever will have. I don't earn any monetary compensation for it but for my efforts I do receive lots of smiles, hugs, love and that heart swelling pride that comes from watching my little boy grow up right before my eyes. Whether it is reciting facts about the human body and therefore teaching me things about the digestive system that I never learned in college biology (Sidney's latest obsession), telling me about his school day and who did what on the playground, or teaching me how to say new words in French, my little boy never ceases to amaze me.

As a mother there are no vacation days because I am always on call. Whether it be late at night, early in the morning, or during the school day, when Sidney needs something it is me that he calls for. He may love playing tee ball with his father but when he falls down I am the one who he wants to comfort him. Daddy is the one who fixes things when they break but I am the provider of kisses who makes things better.  I am the one who goes to the store and buys things before we run out, makes sure dinner is on the table, there are clean clothes to be worn and there is always a tasty snack in his backpack for school. When traveling daddy is his pizza eating buddy but I'm the one who makes sure that everything is packed up and ready to go before we set out on our next adventure. Every morning Sidney stands along side me and makes his own breakfast (oatmeal), as he says, he is cooking just like Mamma. And going to the library or discovering the coolest playgrounds in Belgium? Those are exclusively activities for just the two of us. He may be the mirror image of his father in so many ways but he is and always will be my little boy.

Cooking in the kitchen

Sidney is currently going through a phase where girls are not cool. As he says, at school the boys only play with boys because the girls are icky. If there are only girls on a playground he will wait for them to leave. As much as he loves to dance along to music if the singer is a female he says it is a "girl's song" and patiently waits for a "boy song" to play. I know this is phase but as someone who wants her son to not see everything through a gender specific lens, it is hard. And what about me (someone who is definitely a girl)? Sidney does make an exception for me since according to him, I'm not a girl, I'm just Mamma. And as his Mamma he will hold my hand for now (but not when he is a "big boy"). He still greets me with a hug and kiss at school despite other kids telling him he shouldn't kiss girls. He still references me as an authority..."My Mamma says.....". I'm going to enjoy all of this while I can and enjoy my "just Mamma" title because I am after all just his Mamma. But being just Mamma suits me fine. In fact, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and 365 days a year, it is the best title I've ever had.

Exploring Tuscany last fall

And Sidney with his two girls, his Mamma and his Mimi

You Are Not Alone: National Infertility Awareness Week

Today we are wrapping up the 25th anniversary of National Infertility Awareness Week. A lot has changed in the past 25 years with advances in science, technology, and social awareness making it possible for millions of people to become parents. And each year brings about new medical advancements. Procedures that weren't possible just a few years ago are now common place. But as is the case with all things medical, these infertility comes with a steep price tag both physically and emotionally. Weeks like this help increase education and raise general awareness on the issue that eases some, but not all, of the emotional pain associated with this disease. (Knowing you are not alone is an amazing feeling). And, thanks to raised awareness, health insurance plans are increasingly covering the costs of infertility treatments, thus easing the financial burden associated with prolonged testing and treatments.

As many of my friends know, this is a subject that is near and dear to my heart and incredibly personal. I suffer from infertility as do too many of my friends. But thanks to advancing medical technology, I am now a mother. My journey wasn't easy; it was long, painful, expensive and lonely, but these costs were worth it because in the end I was rewarded with a baby. Not everyone is so fortunate. So in honor of this week, I'm reposting my story. I've shared it before but because education is so important, I'm sharing it again:

According to the Center for Disease Control, an estimated 6.1 million women in the United States between the age of 15 and 44 have difficulty conceiving and staying pregnant on their own. I am one of those women.  Today, thanks to my amazing doctor at the Beach Center for Infertility, I am fortunate to have an active, healthy 4 1/2 year old. Because this week recognizes the struggle that the 6.1 million of us endure, I am sharing my own deeply personal story.

Before Sidney was born,  I spent several years unsure as to whether I would ever become a mother. Like many women my age, I spent my 20s trying not to become pregnant but once I was in my 30s and married, the time seemed right. Or so my mind thought but my body did not agree. While so many of my friends and neighbors had their first, second, and even third children, Glenn and I weren't so fortunate. We were hopeful and tried to remain positive but as each month was met with another crushing disappointment our hope began to fade.

At this time we were living in Norfolk, VA which ironically enough, happened to be a hotbed for cutting edge reproductive medicine. (I didn't realize that in vitro fertilization was pioneered at Norfolk's own Jones Institute). After a series of miscarriages, my doctor referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist. Dr. Flood was warm, welcoming, and supportive and together Glenn and I set about a course of action to overcome the "unexplained" infertility obstacle that stood between us and our much wanted baby. Over the next 18 months I underwent two surgical procedures, had more blood work drawn and spent more time in doctor's waiting rooms than any person should ever have to endure. I overcame my fear of needles and became an expert at self injecting hormones several times a day. I also became an emotionally charged wreck. Probably much to Glenn's relief, he spent a good portion of this time period out at sea and wasn't home to suffer the emotional mood swings that became a daily part of my life. Just a few months into this process my body began to feel like a pin cushion that had been invaded by an alien yet there still wasn't any baby.

Everyone deals with infertility in their own way. Some people talk about their experiences openly while others endure the pain privately. To a great extent, I chose the later. Our families and a few close friends were generally aware of what we were going through but for the most part, we didn't talk about it. Unless you have experienced the infertility roller coaster, you truly can't understand what it is like. It is also a deeply personal subject that more tactful people are often uncomfortable discussing.

During this dark period the comments I did hear ran the gamete form positive to negative and just plain strange. More supportive friends assured us that we would become parents while a particularly callous former friend informed me that God obviously didn't think we would be suitable parents so he was preventing it from happening. Upon hearing this, I was actually speechless for one of the few times in my life. In what I hope was meant to be a supportive comment, my in-laws even told me that they would be able to accept any child we might adopt as a real grandchild. In social situations with people we only casually knew the inevitable question was when were we going to having children. After a time I started bracing myself for these inquiries by having a slew of ready to respond quips in mind. During this time I was an overly hormonal woman so many of these comments did not sit too well with me.

Instead of reacting to this array of comments, I withdrew into myself. I sent generous gifts to baby showers but couldn't bring myself to attend. I spent hours scouring the Internet searching to possible answers. I convinced myself that if we just kept trying it would work. I continued to change my diet, exercised more, lost weight, and spent numerous sessions in acupuncture all in hopes of making my treatments work. I was convinced that the third time would be the charm but as the third assisted try turned into the fourth, fifth, and even sixth attempt my body continued to fail me. Through daily emails and the occasional long distance phone call, Glenn and I discussed how much longer we should try. After all, this whole experience was taking a physical, emotional, and financial toll on both of us.

As I waited for Glenn's return from deployment, I covertly began to explore the option of adoption. We were open to the idea but decided to give our current routine one more go before moving on. Good things can come to those who wait because upon Glenn's return, we started a final round of injections, blood work, and anxiety riddled waiting. This time luck was on our side and IVF worked its magic. We were pregnant. It is impossible to describe the sense of elation I felt that hot June day as I sat in my car in the parking garage talking to Jessica from Dr. Flood's office. (This was the only place I was guaranteed some small amount of privacy and I had been steeling myself for making what turned out to be the most pivotal phone call of my life).

All 2 pounds 12 ounces of my miracle baby then

All of this brings me to where I am today. My heart continues to ache for those women whose desires to become mothers go unfulfilled.  I have felt both your physical and emotional pain. I know I am one of the lucky ones. Because of this experience, I will never take anything for granted again. In a perfect world we would all be able to readily have the babies we want when we want them. In lieu of this perfect world I wish for understanding, compassion, and continued medical advances in the field of women's health and reproductive medicine. In the meantime time I hug Sidney tightly each night and silently thank everyone who helped make his existence possible.

And my goofy little boy today

Hold Our Babies Close

There aren't words that can adequately describe the sorrow, pain, and sadness I feel right now.  As the tragedy unfolds in Newtown, Connecticut, an every-town U.S.A., I am at a loss as to how we as a society can keep our children safe.  As tragedy after unfortunate tragedy plays out in all too rapid succession, it is clear that none of us are exempt or truly safe from the potential for an unthinkable tragedy striking our community.  Contrary to what we want to believe, violence of all kinds is not the exclusive domain of our poor, inner cities.  In fact, whether it be Aurora, Littleton, Blacksburg, or now Newtown, it is almost as if our suburbs are being targeted.  Being well educated, living in solid, middle class communities, being religious, or not--none of this exempts us from the potential for violence.  How is it that those of us with presumably the most resources are the least able to protect ourselves?

All I know is that right now I am scared and sad.  I don't have the words to explain this tragedy to Sidney who is, fortunately too young to be exposed to or understand this senseless violence. He does know that Mamma is sad.  Someday he will understand the reason behind all those extra hugs and "I love yous".  In fact, I'm going to go give him another hug now.  As a parent, that is the only thing I can really control.

                               "When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, 

                               my mother would say to me, "Look for helpers.  You will 

                               always find people who are helping." To this day, especially in 

                               times of "disaster", I remember my mother's words and I am 

                               always comforted by realizing that there are so many helpers

                              --so many caring people in the world."

                                                       ~~~Fred Rogers