“I know you want a grandchild, Mrs. MILF. I’ve been having daily sex with your son for the past two years and nothing has worked. Hopefully, I’ll get pregnant when your precious little boy improves the low motility of his sperm count.”
Your MIL wants to be a grandmother. You know because she has told you 50 times, mentioned it to her friends and sadly looks at your belly each time she sees you. If she knows about your infertility struggles, she will give you advice on how to eat to conceive, rip out newspaper fertility articles and then tell you everything you’re doing wrong. Maybe she forces you to drink some fertility concoction made from a pinch of Folic Acid, a splash of cervical mucus, and a twist of pineapple. Drink up. Everyone knows her drink will get you pregnant. Then there’s the awkward silent “why aren’t I a grandmother?” pause at the dinner table. You know she wants to ask but then she doesn’t and just stares at your belly. Instead, you feel her disapproving glare as she tells you that so-and-so just had a new granddaughter. It’s her third grandchild and she doesn’t even have one! That’s so nice MIL. Your potential grandchildren are floating in a petri dish right now or are somewhere frozen in a freezer. Why don’t you brag about that to your friends! You could have 17-25 grandchildren in a petri dish while your friend only has 3.