My relationship with my mother-in-law-to-be was off to a rocky start. It didn't help that I was ten years older than her son and practiced a different religion. The first time I met her and my father-in-law at their home, she gave me a cool handshake, a tight smile, and made incessant chatter aimed at keeping me at arm's length. She then retreated to the kitchen while I sat, with the rest of his family, in the living room. Cabinet doors slammed as she prepared a snack for all of us. Apprehensive eyes darted from one face to another as we made polite conversation and waited for the storm of anger to pass. Little did she know, that by withholding her approval, she was catapulting her son straight into my arms.
But much to my surprise, when his proposal came and I had accepted, she was the first to call, warmly congratulate me, and offer to help me plan the wedding. What a relief, too, as I had never been the kind of girl who dreamed of "the special day" and had planned out the bridesmaid dresses, flowers, and everything else that went into planning a wedding. At the time, I suspected my mother-in-law of control issues. After all, what did she know about my tastes, and what would all her friends think if I didn't choose the "right" place or throw the "right" type of party? It was a good ploy for her to make sure things turned out they way she wanted them to.
I gave her control with an ulterior motive, thinking it would ingratiate me to her. She threw a wonderful shower for me. She followed up by making all the arrangements for our wedding, always checking with me to see if I approved of her choices. I did. She has exquisite taste, and I was lucky to be the beneficiary of that. I still suspected she did it all for her son, but little by little, I started to see that she was making an enormous effort to see me happy as well.
That's why it was confusing when she sometimes said some awkward things to me. Not necessarily mean things, per se, but they certainly weren't the kind of things one would say if they were trying to build a better relationship with another. For example, her other son divorced his wife, leaving me as the only daughter-in-law. In a phone conversation about it, mother-in-law said to me, "Well, now I can almost call you my 'favorite' daughter-in-law." Still, I held my tongue and made sure I didn't mention anything about her jabs to my husband.
It wasn't long before we had our first child. I remember my mother-in-law calling me, wanting to get us a gift for the baby. At first I said, "Please, we really don't need anything special. Whatever you get will be fine..." but she persisted so I finally said, "Well, if you insist, we could use a car seat." She seemed delighted, and had me describe the exact model I wanted. A week later she and my father-in-law came over to see the baby and she handed us a small wrapped gift for the baby. It was a beautiful sterling silver rattle. My husband and I thanked them very much and I said laughing, "Well, I guess you decided against the car seat!" As soon as it was out of my mouth, I regretted it. Her face went blank, and she said, "What car seat?" My husband, having no idea of the conversation I had with her a week earlier looked at me as if I had gone insane. It was then that I knew; my mother-in-law was beginning to succumb to the same disease that had afflicted her own mother. It was early onset Alzheimer's.
Now I began to understand that the off-hand comments I had taken as jabs were nothing more than mistakes in her processing and understanding. She had grown to love me over the years, as I had her, and it was evident when she sent me news clippings she thought I would find interesting, or call to see how I was doing. She always made a point of encouraging me as a mom, never criticizing.
The disease has progressed slowly, and my mother-in-law is still very capable of enjoying many of the things she always has, such as preparing meals for my father-in-law, reading her magazines, watching movies, and visiting friends. She can no longer drive because she doesn't always remember where she is or where she's going. She'll tell me the same anecdote over and over when I see her. But I can honestly say I've grown to adore the woman who so bravely confronts this devastating disease with such grace and dignity. She's still teaching me by her example how to navigate the treacherous waters of life we sometimes find ourselves in, and for that I will always be grateful. I know she has forgotten those first few meetings years ago. When she sees me now, all she remembers is the love that has grown over the years.