“What to Do About My Overbearing Mother-in-Law? I Can’t Have Her Live With Us”: The High Cost of Quality Nursing Homes

For years, my relationship with Hazel, my mother-in-law, was cordial but distant. We met occasionally for coffee, exchanged pleasantries during holidays, and that was the extent of our interaction. My husband, Sean, is her only child, and while he loves his mother dearly, he has always valued the personal space our separate living arrangements provided.

Everything changed when Arthur, Sean’s father, passed away last year. At 80, Hazel found herself alone in a large, empty house, filled with memories but devoid of companionship. The loneliness seemed to hit her hard, and understandably, she began to lean more on Sean for support.

At first, it was phone calls more frequently, then weekend visits turned into week-long stays. I tried to be understanding; after all, she had just lost her husband of over 50 years. But as weeks turned into months, Hazel’s visits became more prolonged and her requests more demanding. It wasn’t long before she suggested, rather expectantly, that it might be best if she moved in with us permanently.

Sean, caught between his devotion to his mother and his allegiance to our marriage, felt torn. We discussed the possibility extensively, considering various scenarios. The truth was, our home simply wasn’t big enough to comfortably accommodate another full-time resident, especially one as assertive and set in her ways as Hazel.

The alternative was to find her a place in a quality nursing home where she could have company and professional care as needed. However, the cost of such facilities was daunting. We toured several local homes, each with its own set of amenities and price tags, none of which seemed to fit our budget without significant financial strain.

As we weighed our options, tensions at home escalated. Hazel’s visits became more fraught with criticism and dissatisfaction about how we managed our household, how Sean was not the same attentive son he used to be, and how I, in her view, was the barrier between her and her son. The atmosphere became so strained that even Sean began to dread the sound of his own phone ringing, knowing it might be Hazel on the other end, ready with a new set of demands or complaints.

One evening, after a particularly tense dinner where Hazel lamented our inability to make room for her in our home, Sean and I had a long, hard discussion about our future. It was clear that living with Hazel was not an option that would preserve our marriage or mental health. Yet, the guilt of placing her in a nursing home we could barely afford was overwhelming.

In the end, we made the difficult decision to enroll Hazel in a moderately priced nursing facility that offered decent care but lacked some of the luxuries of more expensive places. Hazel moved in last month, and the transition has been anything but smooth. She blames us for her unhappiness, and our visits are filled with tension and recriminations.

Our relationship with Hazel has never been more strained, and while Sean and I know we made the most practical choice, it came at a cost. We’re left wondering if the financial strain and emotional turmoil were worth it, and whether we’ll ever be able to mend the rift that has grown so wide between us.