After a week-long cruise with my extended family, Heather and I got home and down to brass tacks. As we started our detox from the surfeit of desserts and red meat the folks at Norwegian Cruise Lines provided for us, we had to let go of some other baggage, too, and I surprised both of us by telling my parents about our baby plans.
For those of you playing along at home, you'll remember that I've avoided mentioning the bun we hope will soon be in Heather's oven. I thought they'd say I was too young and too poor and it was too early in my relationship. And, wow, I f-ing called it.
The discussion was a disaster. They said I was too young and too poor and that it was too early in my relationship. I wept. They said I didn't know how stressful it was, or how expensive. My dad thoroughly stumbled by saying that I was new to "lesbianism." But I spotted him that one, because you could tell he was trying really hard.
Mom was still and silent, across the room from me in cherry-decorated pajama pants. I think we all wanted the conversation to end but didn't know how to end it, so we repeated what we thought, and I continued to weep, and we all stared desperately at the cats for distraction.
Later, we hugged as I left, probably because I cried quite a lot and, bless their hearts, they couldn't be so pissed at my choosing parenthood at 27 that they weren't still my parents.
Heather was horrified that I'd told them, and both of us were grateful she hadn't been there. She thought they might not ever accept it, and maybe my parents wouldn't even see it as my baby if I didn't deliver it. I said, no, it'll be awkward for a few more days, then we'll get back to normal, and then Mom will start making hats.
Mom e-mailed me two days afterwards, just to chat, and today she said she was having knitting fantasies. I'll post pictures of the mittens later.
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