I was on the threshold of revelation. I stood outside the door of our home, taking a few last deep breaths before I walked in and declared my parents grandparents-to-be. I was nervous, I think most expectant mothers have a twinge of anxious nerves before revealing this life changing news to the ones closest to them, especially when it is a rather unexpected announcement.

I'd only known for certain just a few short hours, I had suspected but knew it was best to wait and be positive. Turned out I was right, it was indeed positive. I wasn't quite sure how to tell them. The news of our new addition was not something they were expecting. I stopped by the drugstore on the way home. I purchased three items, significant items. A card with a beautifully versed prayer for expecting grandparents, a tiny little pacifier of clear blue and a spool of delicate blue ribbon. In my heart I knew I would have a son.

I signed the card, my own words of love and gratitude for the parents they had been filling the blank page to the side. I tied the little pacifier to the card with the delicate blue ribbon and held it close to my quickly beating heart, praying I would not stumble on my own words as I told them the news. When I arrived home they were both in the family room, my mother working on her art and my father watching the television.

I told them I had something I wanted to share with them, something I needed to tell them. I lost my words as I feared I might. The butterflies keeping company with my growing baby quickly became a lump in my throat. I held the card in my trembling hands. My mother put down her project. My father turned off his show. I held the card out and without touching it my mother drew both hands to her mouth as if to contain words from thoughts she hadn't yet formed.

She knew. When she saw the ribbon and what would be my son's first pacifier, she knew. She moved closer to me and placed her cheek against my stomach. She held my hand in hers and slowly rubbed my belly in the softest of circles with the other. When she looked into my eyes she said, "I believe in you." I don't think my father actually spoke for three days. When he did asked if I was sure. I was. He told me he believed in me too. I saw a tear stream down his cheek. He said, "You're gonna be a good momma."

I was eighteen. I was alone, my love far away. He'd joined the military shortly after his graduation. It wasn't long before he was sent off to Desert Storm but I knew I was loved and supported. I realized this wasn't the dream my parents had dreamed for me but together we began to dream new dreams, new hopes for a new tomorrow.

They took me by the hand and the heart and said they believed in me and I knew they truly did.
My son is now eighteen and I have even greater respect for my parents. I cannot imagine one of my children telling me of new life when the life they needed to live was just beginning. But just as my parents did I would accept and support them. The first thing I would do is look them in the eyes and say, I believe in you and they will know I truly do.

Learn more about this author, Crystal Cook.
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