One parent down

Saturday, January 28:

My husband and I are going out to dinner with his parents tomorrow night to celebrate his dad’s birthday, and I agreed to let my husband tell his parents the baby news then.

That means I have to face my stepmother before tomorrow night.

I told her if I ever got pregnant, she’d be the first to know (after my husband).

I couldn’t reach her all day. Finally around 9:30, I got her on her cell phone. Luckily, she was with the whole family (brother, grandmother and family friend), waiting for a table at a restaurant. They’re an hour behind me where they live, but that’s still a late dinner. She was tired.

“Well, as long as you’re all there, when you get a table, you’re going to have to get a drink or a dessert to celebrate,” I say.

“Celebrate what?”

“Well, I told you you’d be the first to know.”

“First to know what?” she says. Then she gasps. “You’re pregnant?” she whispers.

“Uh-huh.”

The cell phone made the rounds. My brother, who has been the most outspoken about wanting my husband and me to have a child since the day of our wedding, was happy and kept saying congratulations. My grandmother informed me this would be her fifth great-grandchild. My stepmom just kept saying she was in shock.

You can’t blame her. I told her for years I wasn’t going to get married. Then I told her for years I wasn’t going to have children. Because of my age, I’m sure she’d given up on the idea altogether. Her generation didn’t wait until 35+ to have a child.

One parent down. Three to go.