I was worried about what they would think of me, what they would think of the baby. They had never been the type of parents who bothered after me to give them grandchildren. Not that they had ever been overtly against the idea or anything. They had just never expressed any kind of deep desire for the next generation. What they had wanted for me was happiness and success.
I worried they would think if I kept the baby it would stand in my way. I wouldn’t be able to have the kind of life I’d envisioned for myself. But soon I realized my need for their comfort was more important than letting that fear control me.
Without any idea of what words were going to come out of my mouth and in what order, I took out my phone and called my mother. She was excited to hear from me, and I could tell she was about to launch into one of her long, circuitous stories about what was going on at Berkeley. Before she could get started, I told her to get my father so I could talk to both of them at the same time.
“Your father wants to know if we can do a video call,” Mom asked.
That made me giggle. My father had gotten very invested in video calls. In every situation he could manage, he got people to talk to him via video rather than just on the phone. He said it improved communication and allowed everybody to utilize nonverbal cues. My mother and I agreed it made him feel like he was living in the future.
We hung up, and I immediately connected with a video call. As soon as I saw them sitting there together, I was glad he recommended it. Just seeing their faces made me feel better. But I could tell by the way they were looking at me I didn’t have the same reassuring effect on them. My mother narrowed her eyes, her eyebrows knitting together as she examined my expression.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.
“Does something have to be wrong for me to call you?” I asked.
It wasn’t exactly masterful diversion skills, but it bought me another few seconds.
“Of course not. You just look like there’s something on your mind.”
I nodded. Now was as good a time as any.
“There actually is,” I said. “I don’t really have any preface for this, so I’m just going to come right out and tell you. I’m pregnant.”
Part of me almost expected them to react the same way Noah had. They obviously wouldn’t be able to turn their backs on me and walk away exactly, but they could have gotten angry and hung up. They might have told me how disappointed they were and lectured me about how I was going to throw my life away because I wasn’t careful. I even started preparing my defense, telling them about my birth control and figuring out if there was a tasteful way to tell my parents I just got wrapped up in the moment and couldn’t resist Noah.
Fortunately for the fact that I couldn’t figure out a way to say that without the ick factor, my parents surprised me by staying completely calm.
“Do you know for certain?” my mother asked, ever the one to approach something with as much logic as possible.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve already been to the doctor and gotten a test. I’m not far enough along to have had an ultrasound or anything yet, but it isn’t just a guess. I am definitely pregnant. I know it’s probably a shock. I know I was surprised.”
“Not a shock,” my father said. “That makes it sound like a bad thing.”
“You don’t think it is?” I asked, feeling a little more hopeful.
“You’re having our grandchild,” my mother said. “It’s a wonderful thing. As long as it’s what you want.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what I want. But over the last few days since I found out, I’ve been thinking a lot about it. And all of the scenarios have me carrying this baby and figuring out life alongside it,” I said.
That made emotion catch in my chest. It was the first time I’d said it out loud.
“Then I think congratulations are in order,” my father said.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“How are you feeling?” Mom asked.
“It’s a little touch and go,” I said. “The morning sickness isn’t terrible, but I’m definitely feeling it. I’m only a few days in, and some have been better than others.”
“Not to discourage you or drift too far into old wives’ tales territory,” my mother said, “but it’ll probably get worse before it gets better. And when it does, make sure you have crackers sitting next to your bed. Eat them before you put your feet on the floor in the morning, and you’ll feel better.”
“How about mentally?” my father asked. “How are you feeling about all this?”