The Baby House

Saturday night, we told Nona. (Thursday was the too-late dinner, Friday we went shopping, but after Saturday's dinner was just right).

Becasue I had much (too much) to think about it, I decided that H should tell his mother. Quietly, intimately. Maybe with me not even in the room? (Out of house? In a different neighborhood? Not that I'm nervous, mind you...) After all, he was an only child, and they had lived together/been each other's family for three and a half decades before I waltzed in.

H considered it, said he'd tell her, but that I had to be there.

So Saturday, he handed over a copy of the sonogram that I'd photocopied.

"Do you know what this is?" H asked.

"It's a picture."

"Do you know what of?" he continued. She squinted a bit.

"A cat?"

"No...." H pointed to a bump on the picture. "That's the nose."

"A mouse?"

"Um... maybe you should get your glasses?"

"I don't need my glasses! Just tell me what the picture's of!"

"It's a baby. It's my baby, Nica's and mine. We're going to have a baby."

From there she grew quiet, promising to babysit, to change diapers, to sit on the floor and play with the baby ("assuming that the floor is clean enough to sit on" she tossed in).

Finally she said, "I don't know who answered my prayer, but finally my prayers have been answered."

Which I thought was sweet and typical Mama. (Um. Nona). I'm pregnant, but it's due to her prayers.

She wanted to know who the godparents would be, and didn't like our choices. Godparents, in her opinion, should be the wealthiest, most powerful people we know. She asked us to reconsider.

Then came the curveball:

"If the baby is a girl, she will be Maria Luisa. If the baby is a boy, he will be Jose Luis."

The godparent question was anticipated. Having to fight with my mother-in-law about what we were naming the baby was not. H and I just looked at each other, shocked and amused.

"If it's a girl, we want to name her after you," I interjected. She shook her head.

"I have not had a lucky life; I would not want the child to share my name and my unlucky life."

Well.

The next morning, when I was waking her up for her shower, I showed her my belly. (I'm showing, but have to see my naked tum-tum to tell. With clothing, I just look fat.) I asked her if she remembered what H said, showing her my belly.

"It's the Baby House!" she screamed, delighted. She looked at me. "Do you know what he is doing right now?" She threw herself into a fetal position, diving back into bed and throwing her hands over her eyes. "He is like this, right now!"

Completely insane, completely Mama, completely charming and totally unexpected.