Many years ago when the movie version of one of my favorite novels came out, Brother and Sister-In-Law went to see it. I couldn’t wait for a review, and pumped them for the details. Brother loved it, but Sister-In-Law wasn’t so sure.

The movie was “Misery”, an adaptation of the Stephen King novel in which a psychotic woman holds her favorite writer hostage, torturing and maiming him while he completes a manuscript to her specifications.

“It worries me.” She admitted when I pressed her. “I could see you doing that.”

Well, I was flabbergasted that my very own family would think that of me. Sure, I’m a little obsessive sometimes, and OK, I might get celebrity crushes occasionally, and I do feel like Stephen King would drop Tabitha like a hot potato if I could only manage to meet him, but kidnapping? Chopping off body parts?

I thought about that crazy conversation last week when Sister-In-Law said she wanted to come see me. Usually, family gatherings take place at her home, where there’s only one dog and no laundry piles. Guests at my house tend to leave in a hurry, covered in Rottweiler drool and enough pet hair to knit their own cat or dog. Sister-In-Law is a meticulous housekeeper and gracious hostess; she would never blow in a coffee cup to get the dust out before she filled it for a visitor. Her sweet dog isn’t prone to leaping on the sofa and tipping it over, just to see people and beverages turn tail-up.

I was happy that she wanted to visit. She and Nephew want to meet the iguana, and they haven’t seen the dogs in quite a while. But why now? A suspicion niggled in the back of my mind due to a major news story about a set of octuplets born to a single woman in California. The mother already had six kids, and the public’s delight at the relative health of eight babies has quickly turned to horror and disgust as the details come to light.

Nadya Suleman had always wanted a large family, and unable to conceive in the traditional way, she did what many other women do- she went through in-vitro fertilization. She’d divorced her husband after realizing that she really didn’t love him, she only loved the idea of motherhood, so she recruited a friend who donated half of the DNA, and the embryos were created.

I watched the story unfold with the rest of the nation. I was incensed at the skeptics who wondered about her financial situation, because I know how expensive the procedures are. I reasoned that Ms. Suleman must have a job with really, really good insurance, to have gone through having stored embryos implanted at least six times. But I was proven very wrong. Those babies and their older siblings have a raving lunatic for a mama.

I understand the need to parent, because I feel it myself. I love the smell of little baby heads, and the itty bitty stars made by opened baby hands always bring tears to my eyes. But fourteen? With no job and no male role model? I’d have to have a job just to get away from the incessant wailing for a few hours a day, and I would definitely want a man around to blame all their negative traits on.

Poor Sister-In-Law has probably seen the bizarre story about the Suleman octuplets. She loves me, but let’s face it, I’m the flaky one in the family, and she’s the rock. She probably wouldn’t be surprised if I turned up with 14 kids. She’d just sigh a heavy sigh and start coordinating feeding schedules. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure though, and I’m sure that as soon as my back is turned, Sister-In-Law will be in my freezer, digging for frozen embryos.

The tragedy in this story is that, as far as I can see, Nadya Suleman had 14 children so that she could feel loved, not so that she could nurture and give love. With all of my critters and clutter, my house is full of love, both given and received. Not a day goes by when I don’t feel loved, and loving. I am so sad for those children, and their mother too, because I’m not sure that they will ever know those feelings.