My mother was not as easy to tell as my dad was. It was going to be a whole different mindset and a whole different way to go about getting this information to her.

     The very fact alone that I had got someone pregnant was a huge ordeal for my mom’s side of the family. They were more into the Catholic church. They believe in marriage before parenthood, and they also believed in marrying someone who was also Catholic.

     The idea of my girlfriend, who was formerly my sister’s friend because of the relationship to me, was a Protestant, made my mom very uneasy. So now that I was about to lay some heavy news about the pregnancy, I knew I had to be on top of my game, ready to defend and take what I knew was coming.

     Everytime I had something going on in my life from the time I was kicked out of my mom’s house, I was put under a microscope. My stepdad always said that me and my sister would never amount to anything. We always laughed that stuff off because when it came from him, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t our dad. We didn’t care what he thought.

     He had his own kids who were older than my sister and myself that he hardly saw. I think he was frustrated with that, and took it out on us. My mom, to this day denies any of this. She has turned a blind eye to it. My sister and I had a few theories on some of their marriage and situations that I won’t get into here. Maybe in the future.

     One night I went to my mom’s to tell her what was going on. The fact that I was going to be a father. I went alone without my girlfriend because I deemed it best that she not be there because I did not want to feel any more unease than I already I knew I would be.

     I showed up one October night in 1992 to tell her, and my stepdad who just needed to be there, that I was going to be a dad. The news didn’t go over to well. She sat motionless for a few minutes. I kept asking if she was ok because, silly me, I thought for a second that she would be cool with it.

     She was the furthest from cool anyone would be. I think to this day that she overreacted. She said a few things about “how could you do this to me” and something about how I ruined my life. Then she ran into her room and cried for a couple hours.

     I sat there and waited for her to come out. I knocked a few times asking if she was ok. The first few times she didn’t answer so I waited a little bit then asked again. She never left her room when I was there that night. I just don’t get the overreaction.

     That night was the framework for the rest of my daugher’s life. She has never been close to either of my daughters. I just wanted her to be happy with the fact that she would be a grandma. It took her years to come to terms with it.

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