I hate Alzheimers

We told my MIL as soon as we knew. As soon as we knew we were having trouble getting pregnant, all the IUIs we tried, when we graduated to IVF, when we were successful and when, to quote my good doctor, when the pregancy didn't continue.

When we told her we were pregnant, she jumped. She clapped her hands. She cried YAY! and demanded to know the due date. Good, she said when she knew. Close to her mother's birthday

When we told her we weren't pregnant, we were crying. She started crying. She reminded me, somehow, of an upset bird. Throwing her hands and keening NO. Flapping her hands. No. NO.

But that was days ago. And, stomach punching aside, she does want to be a grandmother. She does.

This morning, she showed me a picture. A present she wanted to get me. It was a baby carrier, one of the simple ones that look like a peasant shawl.

I said, Mama, don't you remember? We lost the baby. No, refused my MIL. No. We went round and round a few times until my husband yelled THE BABY IS DEAD, MOTHER DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?

Then we were all quiet for a while.

I hate Alzheimers.