And Then I Went on Vacation

Sixteen hours in a very small, very PACKED car with H and Mama.

Good times.

We went to visit my family down south, to share the "good news" and show them my big fat belly. But H didn't want us to fly because (a) he's convinced it causes miscarriages (b) it's expensive (c) Mama LOVES to flirt with the security men ("I have a gun and YOU need to find it! Tee Hee!")

So we went.

And we told.

It was weird.

First, we told me Dad. We had to tell him over the phone, before we left. He was seriously pushing for us to fly down, offering to pay for tickets (yeah, right). So H broke down and said "We can't fly, Nica's pregnant."

I immediately punched my husband PLAYFULLY in the arm and grabbed the phone. And (tried) to talk to my father. Who did NOT want to talk to me.

But I'm pushy (have you noticied?) and I pressed. I told my father stuff he didn't ask, and didn't indicate he was interested in. Like how far along I was, how I was doing, the baby's gender. I did NOT tell him about the various horror stories associated with this pregnancy (how Scrappy didn't make it, etc.).

And if my father was interested in hearing about his first grandchild, (or in any way excited) you could have fooled me.

We told my brother a day or two later. Even though we live in the same city (a few miles away from each other, even), my brother and I don't see each other that often. It's not my choice, but that's a post for another day.

Anyway, we told him/he guessed and it was the same as with my father. My brother could have cared less (and in general, just seemed weird). I pressed again, telling details. And he nodded, and waited to speak until H dived in and rescued him by talking work and football.

So a few days later I was bouncing along in a car and a few days after that H was telling the rest of the family. My one cousin screamed and cried (as I knew she would; she is a screamer and a crier). The rest of the family was happy and supportive. My grandfather kept fading in and out on the fact that I was pregnant, but was enthusiastic and supportive when he remembered it.

My father, present, was still reticent. A zombie. Which, come to think of it, he was most my life.

And a few days later we came back. All of us (me, Mama and H) still battling colds and coughs.

And here we are.