Feeling: nostalgic
Listening to: Tori Amos - Cars and Guitars
Reading/Watching: --

This is not something that could be heavily discussed, because especially at the time, there was a feeling of "perhaps this should be kept quiet," as if it were shameful.

I have long since decided that it is not shameful, and fuck anyone who disagrees.

On the day of my wedding, my cousin *Eva (because she reminds me of an old forties film star) was my professional photographer. She was setting up, and excited, but I noticed that she looked tired, and worried, and not quite herself. I wanted to stop and ask her how she was doing, but there wasn't enough time. I had nine thousand things to take care of in about two hours, and I vowed that I would call her later, perhaps the next day, and find out what was going on with her.

I did not call her the next day, nor the next week (for reasons I hope you will understand and forgive). Before I knew it, two weeks had passed.

And then, on May sixteenth, I received an e-mail from another cousin saying that Eva had delivered a healthy baby boy that morning.

I froze, and re-read it, and double-checked the name, and tried to remember when in the hell anyone had said anything about Eva being pregnant, and was there a mistake in the name, and was this some sort of weird joke? As the day wore on, pictures surfaced, and there she was, looking exhausted, holding a tiny infant in her arms, beautiful, graceful Eva, a few months younger than me. Not married, and as far as I knew, not sexually active. Ever. Because we were the type of cousins that told each other these things, or so I thought.

I began to panic, to wonder what the hell was wrong with me, how selfish was I, how could I miss such a huge detail, how could I have been so ridiculously and disgustingly self-absorbed that I never ever noticed or gave her the chance to share with me this tremendous news, this tremendous surprise, this tremendous... burden? And suddenly in my head, I imagined her spending eight or nine months of knowing this truth, and not having anyone to talk to, and the thought of such a lonely, terrifying experience had me in tears, wanting to call her that exact second and smother her with apologies and questions.

But the gist of the family messages said this: no one knew. Not the father. Not her sisters, who lived with her (don't be too mad at us: she's so self-sufficient, so all-together, and she's not a skinny woman, so her body hid the evidence from those of us who would be too polite to point out that she'd gained weight). And I thought that maybe today wasn't the best day to call and interrogate her, because surely everyone else in the entire family wanted to do the exact same thing. We were all too blind, too confident in our family bond, to notice that everything about her spoke one thing.

When I mentioned it to my friend Krynn, I started off with "my cousin Eva, you know, the one who took pictures at my wedding? She had a-"

"Oh, she had her baby?"

A pause. "You knew? She told you?"

"No, but I assumed, because she looked pregnant... you didn't know?!"

It was just weird, all around weird. My mom called me that night, wanting to find out if I had known, wanting to discuss matters and basically share her bafflement over this bad news-

"Mom, it's not bad news. It's a surprise, it's a shock, but it is not bad news. It's a new life, a healthy life that exists now, and if she is happy, then I am happy about it. Regardless of how this life began, or that we didn't know before, we know now, and it is a life. That is never a bad thing."

And behind my voice, I think she heard the veiled accusation: "Would you rather she had an abortion and hid it from us that way, Pro-Life Conservative English Teacher?" Because to me, it didn't matter that she wasn't married. That just made it harder for her, and meant that I needed to go see her, to let her know I was in her corner, as soon as possible. (Besides, can you imagine being pregnant all those months and not being able to afford going to a doctor to make sure everything was okay in there? I'd be sick with worry.)

So I waited a few days, and called her to see when I could drive up to see her. The baby was a week old. She had named him for her father, who died when we were ten. (I remembered thinking of her during my Father of the Bride dance, while Martina McBride sang "In My Daughter's Eyes" (Dad's choice, not mine), thinking how unfair it was that she didn't get to have one of those.)

I got there, and couldn't wait to just hug her, and tell her I loved her. So I did. And I held the baby, this tiny squirmy shedding thing (he was flaking off his womb-skin), and looked into his gigantic blue eyes, and let her tell me whatever she was ready to tell me. I was slightly comforted when she swore (again) that no one, no one knew.

The baby started out as a suspicion, a fear, and then one day he started kicking, and she knew. By then it was too late, too weird, too far in, and she waited for the right time, tried to get her bearings and make a plan, and time just ran out on her. As time passed, the truth became harder to say, because my God why wasn't it said before? And so it went, on and on.

I tried to keep it light, so she wouldn't feel cornered, and just teasingly accused her of holding out on some serious details concerning the co-founder of this little surprise. "You were seeing somebody all this time ago, and I heard nothing? Un-FAIR, Eva, you owe we some Man-Dish." So I got those details, which I think she was slightly happier to tell. He was her boss at work, so things had to be secretive, because it was frowned upon. But it had been something, on the edge of their consciousness, for years. Until one day, it was more. And then Eva and I talked normally, and it was easier.

That was May 2006. And by now, she is moving in with the man she loves (the man who loves her), the man who is thrilled beyond measure to be a father. They are trying to figure things out with the two of them, while raising their child (who went from looking like a big-eyed turtle to a big-eyed chunky marshmallow man). The whole marriage thing is not assumed. It will happen for them if they want it, but first they have to try being an actual couple. I have high hopes for her. I know that she is destined for happiness, because she is so loving herself, so ready to give happiness. It will just take the time it takes, until she learns to ask for the things she already knows are hers to have.

So that's the story. I was hesitant to write full details about it, because I wasn't sure how much of it she was comfortable telling people. Now, with so many months behind, so many uncertainties settled, it's no longer shocking, no longer secret. It's joy, instead of guilt. And she is really, truly happy.

I'll confess it to you, because I know you'll probably agree with me: I intend to sing at Eva's wedding. And even if their son is old enough to officiate the ceremony himself by then, I know it will happen eventually. I have that feeling.

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