Once we had told Jay’s family, it was time to break the news to mine. I have been careful to keep this off of Facebook for a few reasons. One is that, while I have several positive pregnancy tests and a petrie dish of hormones coursing through my body as proof, I have yet to see a doctor, have an ultrasound or hear a heartbeat. Now, historically speaking, my body loves being pregnant. I go all the way full term…not a chance of an early delivery for me. That kid burrows in there and is down for the long haul. I may not feel comfortable, but the baby is just chillin in there right as rain. So I am sure everything is just fine. However, I will feel better once I see the little guy and hear the heartbeat…and then I will get all nervous that something has gone wrong again until I start feeling the baby move. After that, I am fine. As long as I can feel that the baby is there and moving around and I am ok the rest of the pregnancy. The other reason is that over the past few years there has been a bit of family upheaval and I have a specific aversion to news being spread via Facebook in certain cases. I mean, I would rather someone not walk into my mother’s work and give her news I have yet to tell her myself. And, trust me, it can happen…. And I was pretty much dreading telling my parents. But since Jay’s family knew, I had to tell mine.
I’d already gotten in touch with my brother asking if he thought Mother’s head would explode when I told her. He was surprised but supportive, just like my brother always is. I still did not call my mother, though. Not that day.
Saturday morning rolled around… and we rolled around in bed. It was Ezra’s weekend to be with his dad and my weekend off, as I like to think of it (and, yes, I realize there are a finite number of them… and have every intention of taking full advantage of the few there are left). Jay and I watched news and horrible TV. There was actually some show on about run away teens in California that will make you scared for the future of the human race. I was tucked in bed. I was warm. I was lazy. And, yes, it was noon. Finally, I picked up the phone.
Let me use the opportunity to apprise anyone who may care to read this trifle of a blog of my self-imposed rules. This is about me and what is going on in my life – this pregnancy being the major topic. You may notice only Jay, Ezra, Greta – and in one instance April – have ever been mentioned by name. As long as I can figure out a way to get around it, no one else will be. You may know who I am talking about by name, but I will not use names. There are several reasons for this, not the least of which is that I did not exactly get everyone’s permission (with the exception of Jay) to write about them. I chose to put this stuff out there about me and my life. If there are other things going on in other people’s lives that I happen to have knowledge of, well, you will not find it on here. It is not my business to make other’s lives public domain. I have had plenty of unwelcome noses in my business over the years and I will not intentionally do that to others. I may on occasion write opinion pieces gleaned from what I know of other people’s circumstances, but I will not be telling everyone’s business on here.
Back to my mother. I called her. She was in the middle of something that was upsetting her, so I did not launch right in to my news. We talked for a little bit and then I finally told her that maybe the reason for my call should wait until later. She immediately thought something had happened to Greta or Ezra. My mother has a penchant for immediately imaging the worst and, before you can get a word in edgewise, she has got one of my kids in the hospital and the other in god only knows what kind of situation. She really is talented in this demented kind of way.
It took me a few minutes to convince her that no one was dead, hospitalized or strung out on drugs. I finally told her, “Mother is has nothing to do with anything like that!” She immediately replied (and I mean without so much as a pause), “Oh, you are pregnant.” Talk about a let down. Here I was thinking I was going to have to tell her and explain how I could have let this happen, that I’d been racking my brain trying to figure out when I missed that pill or something, that it was an accident and I was not intending to upset her or Daddy, trap Jay, etc, etc, etc. I had the whole thing ready to go. But no. Mother already knew. She told me (since we had just been down the week before) she had known when she saw me. She said I looked fatter or thicker (Gee, thanks, Mother)… I “looked pregnant” to her, anyway. She also said that when I told her I had taken myself off antidepressants she was sure of it. Now, this was a total coincidence. I had started weaning myself off Celexa in December, well before I got pregnant, so it was a really good coincidence, but a coincidence none the less. Anyway, that apparently sealed it for her. She had even told my dad. While we were on the phone, he walked in and she asked him if she’d told him she thought I was pregnant. He said yes, and Mother told him she’d been right. He did not say anything, just walked out of the room. Mother said he was probably going outside to pray (gulp). The only other thing Mother asked was that I get married… soon. She’d known about the date we had picked all those months ago, but I am pretty sure she wanted us to move it up. A lot.
We talked for a while about how for along I was, how Jay was feeling about it all and how his family took the news. Then she asked me one more thing…to please keep it off of Facebook until we were married. Now, I found this a bit odd, but I told her I would. I suppose my worldliness has greatly removed me from their belief system. I don’t know about you, but I find the idea that a couple who have been together for 16 months in this day and age and are well over 35 are celibate and saving themselves for marriage, well, laughable. But I am not my parents. And that (and the fact that I have not seen this baby) is why there is no announcement on my profile page. She did not say anything to forbid a blog, though, and I am trying to represent their point of view accurately and respectfully on here. So, even if they do find out about it and are upset with me, at least I made sure I had a technical out that she could not be too pissed about. I hope.
Oh, and the really funny part of this is that I lived in Texas when both my children were born – for the entire pregnancy, as matter of fact. My mother has only seen me pregnant three times: twice over 18 years ago when I was 4 and 7 months along with Greta, and once with Ezra when I was about 6 months along, so it is not like she is overly familiar with how I look pregnant. She has never even been in the state when I gave birth (nor were any grandparents on the other side, either). She flew out to Ft. Hood when Greta was 4 days old and she and Daddy drove out when Ezra was a couple of weeks old. Now I am going to be a mere 4 hour drive away when I go into labor. Considering it took 10 hours for me to deliver Greta and 12 hours for me to have Ezra, I am sure they will be able to make it up here while I am still in labor with this baby… unless of course, I call wait to call until after the baby is born (ok, that may piss them off), or at least a good 8 hours in. Of course, I could be completely wrong. It might be nice to have family there. Plus, Jay’s family is even closer (Wetumpka, AL – about a 2 hour drive), so at least one set of them would make it regardless of when we call. Looks like I am going to have another first with this baby, then – visitors.
And now I need to go come to terms with that little realization.