For years my in-laws have been harassing us about having a baby. “If you didn’t want children, why did you even get married?” They asked. So, when we found out that I was “expecting,” F was super excited to tell his parents. His dad was actually staying at our house at the time so we told him over dinner and he was thrilled. He jumped up, hugged Francesco and me, and quickly dialed my MIL to tell her the great news. Francesco told her, “Mom, Misty is pregnant!” And in a somber tone best reserved for a funeral, she said, “You shouldn’t even be telling us this early. You could lose the baby at any time.”
Talk about a fucking buzzkill. To be fair, a few days later she called much more excited but I think that’s because I asked my FIL what the hell was her problem and I’m thinking he had a chat with her about it. It’s not that she didn’t want me to be pregnant, it’s that she has a hard time being excited for anything ever because frankly, her life has sucked a bunch. I guess when you grow up during the depression in Italy, you probably experience a lot of disappointment so it’s best to just assume that nothing good can ever happen to stop you from getting your hopes up.
My FIL was staying with us for a month at the time (ONE MONTH. KNOW THIS BEFORE MARRYING INTO AN ETHNIC FAMILY), and so for a month he yelled at F for going over cracks in the road too quickly because “he could hurt the baby.” Also, I was instructed to never walk anywhere because I could injure the baby. I should also stop going to work, lest something happen to the baby. Basically, I spent a month anxious af as my FIL told me the 10,000 ways I could damage my baby by merely existing. By the end of the month, I was like how does anyone not break their baby!?
Now that I’m in my 2nd trimester and things seem to be going well for my little hitchhiker within, they’re excited and call to see my belly and give F advice on how I should take care of myself (including: don’t eat too much, don’t move/walk/breathe, and avoid spicy food). It’s kind of adorable. Although, they’re almost too excited because they also want to come to stay with us for ONE MONTH on my last month of pregnancy in hopes they’ll be at our house when I go into labor. I don’t know about you, but in-laws in your home for one month is enough to cause anyone to go into labor early. Even someone who isn’t even pregnant. F told them the truth, that he has to work and is saving his time off for paternity leave. He also told them that there’s no guarantee the baby will come while they’re here so it’s best if they wait until after the kiddo is born so they can be sure to meet them. They were hurt. My MIL sobbed. My husband felt terrible. And I felt guilty, too. After all, I understand the excitement of meeting a new family member but also, ONE MONTH! And I can’t imagine the circus of trying to go the hospital while taking 2.9 hours to translate for them every tiny detail that is happening. I’d end up having the baby on my kitchen floor. While Oliver humped me. And they lectured me about giving birth wrong. And my husband had a goddamn panic attack.
Why is it so hard to balance family with self-care? What are boundaries? How do you juggle family and big life events? I need all of the advice, STAT.
