So, last week, I finally relented. I called my grandmother and I asked for Nikki's phone number. And then I got home and I called her. (Nikki is the eighteen year old half sister if you're new here.)
To review: last I'd heard, she'd stopped by my mom's office to get my phone number. Mom reported that she seemed happy and successful and well. She was going to start college in January. She was living with her boyfriend (not a great idea at age 18, but pretty normal). I was told she looked healthy and pretty. Things sounded good.
I talked to Nikki. She immediately told me she's pregnant. Due in July. Keeping it. I'm going to be Aunt Mary Ann. She was with friends, on the way to McDonald's at the time, so we didn't get to discuss this in too much detail. She is still going to college.
I called a couple of days later. She and the boyfriend were broken up when she found out, but now they're back together. Clearly, it's true love.
We were on the phone so long that my wrist is still sore. The gist "I'm worried about you." "You're always worried. That's, like, your job." "I just don't think this is spectacular." (I actually said that. Several times.) "I want my baby. I am going to be a good mom." "I know you want to be a good mom, and I know you'll try to be a good mom. There's more to being a good mom than good intentions and loving your kid." "I am going to be a good mom. I want my baby." Repetete ad nauseam
By my assessment, she has absolutely no idea what she's getting into. She is not considering adoption or anything that doesn't end in being a mom. She seems to think this will all be easy as pie. Pie using canned filling and a store bought crust even. You know, baby, boyfriend, job, college, getting a driver's license... it'll all just come together effortlessly, as it... always does. The plan includes living in Dad's basement. (When I told my mom this, I think she laughed 'til she cried.)
So, I did what I know how to do: research and worry.
I got on the internet and I sent her a bunch of books about pregnancy. And then I sat up until five thirty in the morning worrying about her. I am such a good little worrier that I lost four pounds and smoked thirty cigarettes in a single night of worry.
I can't talk about this anymore. I just can't. I have been obsessing on and off for a few days now and I'm just beside myself about the whole thing.
