A Bump in the Road (15 page)

The entire office gave me questioning looks all afternoon, no doubt due to Abby telling them about my contagious new disease. I’m going to let them think what they want for now, because I’m nowhere near ready to tell work since it would involve actually having a plan for maternity leave and such. Besides, I think my own parents should hear the news before Mule Face does. I’m planning on telling them tonight at dinner, although I have no clue how.

5:00
P.M.

Here we go again! Yes, my apartment has officially become Vomitville.

5:05
P.M.

Have. To. Pee. Again. Then. Puke. Again.

5:20
P.M.

It’s time to peel myself off the bathroom floor and get dressed.

6:05
P.M.

Jake’s hands are shaking on the steering wheel.

6:35
P.M.

“Great! You guys are here. The lasagna’s just about ready.” My mom looked busy as usual, tossing a salad with one hand and typing a PowerPoint presentation with the other.

“Do you need any help?” I asked as Jake immediately disappeared into the family room to commandeer the TV.

“Nope. I think I’m good.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“Oh, she’s lying in bed. She was at a sleepover last night and is pretty tired so she’s lying down.” My mother lost about a thousand
radar points and two thousand uptight points after I graduated from high school. If I came home from a sleepover totally hungover, the jig would’ve been up and grounding would’ve ensued. But Sam just gets a house full of whispered voices and a parental blind eye.

“How’s everything with the in-laws? Natalie pulled anything lately?”

No, but I can’t
wait
to make that phone call
, I thought to myself.

“Not really.” I tried to sound casual but my voice came out all squeaky.

“Everything OK?” She looked at me suspiciously.

“Yeah!” I said quickly. Goddamn it, I’ve never been good at lying to my mother, which is one reason why I spent most of my teenage years without phone privileges. I knew she wasn’t going to let it go.

She just stared at me. “What’s going on? Is everything OK?”

“Yes, Mom,” I laughed.

“Did you get fired or something?”

“No.
Mom!
”

“OK. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I know something is up.” She shot me another wary look and clicked on her laptop a few more times.

“You’ll know soon enough at dinner,” I muttered under my breath. Then, a very, very bad thing happened: I let my guard down. I never should’ve done it—it’s my mother’s classic trick. She waits until I’m not paying attention and then socks me with some amazingly accurate question so I can’t even attempt to cover up my reaction.

“Are you pregnant?” WHAM! My face turned pink and my stomach dropped. She didn’t even look up from her laptop. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“Uh, well . . .” I laughed again, feeling slightly hysterical. I would be so horrible in a military interrogation. All they’d have to do is bring my mother in and I’d spill the country’s secrets.

She looked up from her laptop. “I knew it.” She broke out into a huge smile and I got the pang in my stomach again. “I take it this
wasn’t planned?” I shook my head, unable to speak because I suddenly felt like crying. Maybe it was out of fear, maybe out of relief, or maybe because I knew this was something my mom couldn’t make all better. I wanted my mom to fix it, but she couldn’t. Because I was going to be a mom myself. Gah.

She put her arm around me. “Well, honey, it does change your life but don’t be afraid of it. I know you didn’t plan for it but the second you see that baby, you’ll know everything will be OK. You weren’t planned either but the first time we held you it was like . . . instant love.” I silently nodded my head and the tears started to well up again. Before either of us could say anything else, the oven timer went off. My mom took the lasagna out of the oven and set it down. “I’m so proud of you,” she said and kissed the top of my head.

Jake, my dad, and Sam all appeared, having heard the timer go off.

“Hi, hon,” my dad said.

“Ew. Gross. You know I hate lasagna,” Sam said, wrinkling her nose. She bent down and sniffed the dish and stuck her tongue out.

“I made it without meat,” my mom said, wiping her hands on a dish towel as Jake and my dad discussed their early predictions for the World Series or something.

“MO-OM! I TOLD you I’m on an all-meat diet now. Like the one I showed you in last month’s
InStyle
.”

“All meat?” I asked her.

She turned to me, barely able to keep her eyeballs in her head. “DUH. It’s only like the best diet ever.” She examined her manicured fingernail. “I SO need an effing manicure,” she muttered to herself.

“Let’s eat, everybody,” my mom said, giving my father and Jake a little tap.

Nobody even took their first bite before I cleared my throat and paused. Jake gave me a quick nervous glance.

“So, I have some news for everyone,” I said, and smiled widely.

“You have spinach in your teeth,” Sam said as she glanced up.

“What?”

“Spinach. In between your two front teeth. It’s gross. Go look in the mirror.”

Not wanting to get up and lose my chance to announce the news and not wanting to announce my pregnancy with spinach hanging from my teeth, I looked helplessly at Jake and raised my eyebrows. He shook his head and mouthed, “No.”

“Yes,” I hissed at him.

“No,” he said, a little louder.

“What’s going on?” my dad asked, his head ping-ponging between the two of us.

“Nothing, Dad.” I smiled at him with my mouth closed. “Do it,” I hissed at Jake.

Jake shook his head in silence.

“I’m pregnant.” I tried to say it without moving my lips.

“What?” my dad said while my mom smiled and Sam examined her split ends.

I decided to screw the spinach and loudly said, “Jake and I are going to have a baby.” Even as I said it, it didn’t seem real. The second I got the words out, I started laughing hysterically.

My dad looked at my mom and she nodded. “Oh, well, um, yeah, um, congratulations!” he finally said.

Sam still didn’t look up from her blond split ends.

“Sam?” my mom asked.

“What? Oh, sorry. I missed it. What did you say?”

“Your sister is pregnant,” my mom said.

Her mouth dropped open. “You?”

“Yup.”

“Well, are you going to have it?”

Jake and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes as my mom screeched, “
Sam!
”

“What? I was just wondering . . .” She trailed off and looked thoughtful for a moment. I thought she was going to say something nice or insightful.

“Can I have the new jeans you just bought? I mean, you’ll have to
wear high-waisted mom jeans now anyway. Oh, and your BCBG silver top?”

“Shut up, Sam. So, are you going back to work?” my mom asked.

“Yep. I’ll take maternity leave, but I want to stay at my job and besides, having running water and paying our bills is important to us,” I said as I fiddled with my earring.

“What are you going to do about child care?” my mom asked.

“Uh, we’re still trying to get used to the idea that we’re going to have a child. We don’t know anything beyond,” Jake said.

“How much is child care these days?” my dad asked.

“I don’t know. Probably a lot. Let’s not talk about that now, OK? We’re not ready for that discussion quite yet,” I said.

“Do nannies make a lot?” Sam interjected, looking thoughtful.

“I’m not sure. Probably.” I shrugged.

“Like how much?”

“I have no idea. We probably won’t be able to afford a nanny. But listen, like I said, we’re not ready to have that particular discussion.”

“I need, like, LOTS of money. I am effing broke,” Sam said. “You can give me money to watch your kid.”

“We will probably want someone who would actually WANT to take care of our baby. Would you?” I said to her.

“No. But I WANT money.” She widened her eyes and pursed her lips.

After a million more questions that we couldn’t answer, Jake and I drove home so we could continue sharing our news with other family members and continue to answer their questions in our half-assed manner.

10:30
P.M.

I just got off the phone with Mark. After I told him the news, he said, “Congratulations! Did Dad act weird?”

“Not really, why?”

“Because it’s pretty much a confirmation you’ve had sex.”

“I’m married, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’ve moved from ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ to flamboyantly out of the closet now,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. I’m just teasing you. Listen, congrats. Tell Jake I’m proud of his swimmers.”

10:45
P.M.

Reese is thrilled I’m joining the Motherhood Cult. She claimed she “knew” and her mother’s intuition told her. I told her it wasn’t her intuition but rather my quickly horizontally growing stomach. She laughed and said she’s packing up all of her maternity clothes to give me. Score!

Now it’s time to call the in-laws. . . .

11:00
P.M.

I wimped out and made Jake make the phone call to the Grandalskis.

“Well, dear! Congratulations. This is a surprise—what a surprise indeed! I can’t imagine this was planned. Anyway, welcome to the mom club,” Marianne said after Jake handed me the phone.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Have you thought about moving yet?”

“Huh?”

“Move, dear. You can’t raise a baby in an apartment.”

“We can’t?”

“Oh, Clare,” she laughed, “of course not. Babies need space and a lawn.”

“I’ll let you know.” I’ll let you know when I’m going to kick your ass, I should’ve said.

“When’s your last day at work?”

“Well, my due date is in January, so sometime around then.”

“I know being a career girl is important to you, but you’ll see being a mom is the best, most rewarding job of all.”

“I’m sure. I’m still going to be a career girl, though.”

“You’re still going to work? Really?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, my. Well. How does Jake feel about having strangers raise his child?” I wanted to reach across the phone line and strangle her but I figured giving birth in prison would suck so I handed the phone back to Jake and let him deal with the psycho Donna Reed. I figure I have the rest of my life to hear about how selfish I am and how I’m permanently damaging my child by placing it in day care.

Besides, the lasagna was on its way back up.

1:00
A.M.

Despite not keeping an ounce of dinner in my stomach, tonight was pretty successful. I feel so much better now that my mom knows about the baby. Hearing her tell me it’s OK, that I can do it, makes me feel like I can. Just like when she told me I could make the track team in eighth grade despite a bit of a weight problem. But she told me I could. And I did.

My mom’s reaction was also a confirmation that despite not being planned, it is in fact supposed to be a happy time. I’m thinking I’ll experience more of those “warm and fuzzy” feelings once I stop harfing up every shred of food I put into my body.

I woke up this morning still feeling relieved that we told everyone the news last night. Although I make it a point to deal with Jake’s parents as little as possible, I’m glad we told them and my parents. We’re now finally out in the open. Out of the closet, to use Mark’s words. It feels so much more real now that our families know, and especially now that my mom knows. At times, I’d felt like it wasn’t really happening since she wasn’t a part of it.

Despite the fact that our inner circle knows now, I’m not planning on telling anyone else for a while. Which has its negatives and positives. Positives being we can keep it our own special secret for a
while, no hate e-mails from jen2485 and I don’t have to deal with Mule Face checking my legs for spider veins just yet. Negatives being what happened today:

I dragged my sorry ass to the grocery store this afternoon in an effort to find something remotely appealing for dinner. I picked up a can of chicken noodle soup, debating whether or not my stomach and gestating embryo would allow me to keep it down. Just as my body reacted with a big fat “NO!” and my stomach heaved, a very nice woman dressed in a gorgeous cashmere shell approached me.

“Are you Clare? From the Internet?” she asked, smiling at me.

I froze, can of soup in hand, stomach in knots, cold sweat pouring down my face.

“Uh-huh.” I nodded, afraid if I opened my mouth any further I’d decorate her lovely top with the contents of my lunch.

“My friends and I are big fans of your blog.”

I nodded again, unable to meet her eyes.

“Where do you get all of your story ideas?”

I slowly raised my head and straightened my shoulders. Instantly, my stomach twisted again and I gagged, still holding the can of soup. Thankfully, nothing came out, but the nice woman hurried away pretty quickly.