A confrontation

I feel out this cycle. I told Mr. Ibis this morning that I don't think we're going to have a Christmas baby... I'm just not feeling it. I know that at 10dpo it's too early to call, but I have no symptoms to speak of. I am hungry and feel mild dull cramps first thing in the morning, but I think those are the same PMS symptoms I had last cycle. But I have NO bloat - my belly is flat as can be (normally an enviable trait, but not now!) - my boobs are small and painless, my energy level is entirely proportional to my work load and sleeping habits.

Speaking on which, I slept like crap last night - or, more accurately, this morning. I woke up at 3am thinking it was morning and asked Mr. I for the time. I woke up again at 4am and thought it was definitely morning so I took my temp - 97.9 - then asked for the time again. I had trouble falling back asleep so I did not log my 5:30 temp of 98.1, because I was half-awake already. You would think I would get a clue and bring my cell phone to bed so I could check the time myself, but every night I forget to do that. Ugh.

So, we had an interesting night last night. We resumed our Thursday nights with the in-laws now that March Madness is over and Survivor is back on. Before dinner, they had us sit down and made an announcement: my mother-in-law had been to see her diabetes doctor. My in-laws are both senior citizens who are diabetic and do not take care of themselves; usually my FIL is the one in and out of the hospital and he's on dialysis three times a week, but my MIL is the one who very quietly gets horribly sick and doesn't seek treatment.

So we sat there as my FIL delivered the news: The prognosis is not good. In her left leg she has severe nerve damage up to mid-calf; she can't feel anything. She's in imminent danger of losing her sight. Her diabetes is completely out of control and her doctor said if she was a child she would spank her bottom. She now has to monitor and record her blood sugar four times a day and submit this to the doc, and inject two doses of time-release insulin plus three doses of fast-acting insulin every single day and on schedule.

They paused to get our reaction and the you could cut the tension with a knife. I knew that Mr. Ibis was too overwrought to speak; we've talked about this before and I know how he feels, and I could see on his face that he was completely overcome with anger and frustration. I tried to stall for time and dissipate the mood by asking some followup questions... Did they give you a plan of action (yes, all the insulin) and is any of the damage reversible (no it is not). Then there was a long, tense silence and FIL told Mr. Ibis to say what he had to say. He couldn't.

Dinner was ready, so we all sat down and served ourselves and finally Mr. Ibis came out with it. He said everything he's been bottling up for months, how frustrated he was with them, how angry he was that they weren't taking better care of themselves, how badly he wants them to live to see our baby and how much he wants our child to have grandparents. I was tearing up and just shoving food into my mouth silently. He began with great emotion, but the more he talked, the more he softened; he started to emphasize that he was only saying this because he cared and wanted them to live. I could see my in-laws both start to warm up to the message. I was really proud of him for speaking his mind but finding a way to do it that was both honest and kind-hearted. I know that that was something he'd wanted to do, but was too afraid to do, for a long time.

I don't know how this is all going to go. I think that my in-laws usually have the best intentions but are so clueless about nutrition it's painful. I guess they are products of their Baby Boom generation in that they fall for everything that's advertised and prepackaged as good for you but haven't a clue about eating real food. Even as we sat down to dinner, my MIL produced a large Arizona blueberry white tea to drink with her meal. Mr. Ibis grabbed it and said, "Mom, this has 18 grams of sugar! This is not good for you!" She said helplessly, "Well, it said it was good for you. It has antioxidants. And I can't read the nutrition labels anymore." That encapulates the problem pretty perfectly right there.

So, I don't know, I hate to be pessimistic but I think my MIL is going to lose her foot and her sight, and who knows what will happen then. She loves to joke that she's going to get a seeing-eye pony someday, but the reality is she's probably going to get a cane (or a wheelchair, if she loses her foot) and have a very difficult time coping and life is not going to be very amusing for her anymore.

By the way... I accepted a beer last night and just pretended to sip from it. At the first opportunity I had, I slipped away to the bathroom and poured most of it down the sink. I even managed to fool Mr. Ibis, and I told him what I'd done when we got home. He said good thing, because the one week I refused to drink, it turns out his mom later cornered him into confessing whether I really was pregnant because she had to know!