My in-laws told me to sit out the 4th of July parade this year — they claimed it would be too overwhelming with my pregnancy migraines. I agreed reluctantly. But an accidental FaceTime call changed everything. What I saw left me stunned — the real reason they didn’t want me there had nothing to do with noise.
I’m Penny, 25 weeks pregnant with the baby Steve and I had hoped and prayed for. After two years of trying, those two pink lines finally appeared, and I thought everything was falling into place.
But the pregnancy has been brutal. The migraines hit like a sledgehammer, leaving me curled up in dark, silent rooms. Light feels like daggers; noise, like shattered glass in my head.
So when Steve’s mom, Martha, called last Tuesday sounding overly sweet and “concerned,” I didn’t question it at first.
“Penny, honey,” she said, “I’ve been thinking about the parade this Friday. All that noise and those big crowds might be too much for you right now.”
I shifted the phone to my other ear, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. “I’ve really been looking forward to it, Martha. It’s our first Fourth as husband and wife.”
“But sweetie, you just had that awful migraine the other day. Steve said you couldn’t even get out of bed.”
Something about her tone made me feel like I was being wrapped in bubble wrap — delicate, inconvenient.
Later that night, Steve rubbed my back gently. “Maybe your mom’s right,” he said. “You’ve been wiped lately.”
I wanted to protest, but he wasn’t wrong. I was exhausted. The baby seemed to need more of me than I had to give.
“You’ll still go though, right?” I asked quietly, trying not to sound hurt.
“Just for Grandpa. You know the parade’s his favorite thing.”
I gave him a soft smile. “Have fun.”
Friday morning came with sunshine and tiny baby kicks. I watched Steve get dressed, practically bouncing with excitement.
“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, but he was already grabbing his keys.
“Go,” I said. “I’ll probably just nap anyway.”
He kissed my forehead. “Love you. Both of you.”
The house felt too quiet once he left. I tried to enjoy the peace, but a heaviness lingered. Steve’s family had never fully welcomed me — I knew that from the beginning.
Around noon, just as I was thinking of making lunch, disaster struck. The kitchen faucet burst.
It wasn’t a drip — it was a full-blown eruption. Water sprayed everywhere, soaking the counters and pouring onto the floor.
I stood there in shock for a beat before springing into action. “No, no, no…”