All I could do was say it plain out.
Mom, I’m pregnant. I’d imagined all sorts of reactions to this. I thought she might cry, or slap me, or yell at me.
But she didn’t do any of that. She stared at me. Maybe she was breathing a little harder than normal, but otherwise you’d think I told her something mundane, like
Mom, the dryer stopped.
Finally she shriveled somehow, folded in on herself, and said,
My great hope for you . . .