"Mom…"

"Yea?"

"I'm pregnant."

She stared at me. She stared at me for what felt like forever; mouth agape, understandable shock in her eyes, maybe a hint of disappointment, or even hope that this was some kind of morbid joke. Finally I couldn't take it anymore.

"Mom?"

She finally seemed to come back into her own body, shaking her head a little, probably in disbelief. I'm in disbelief. She swallowed hard before starting to repeat what I had told her, "You're…"

It was as if she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence, she couldn't say it.

"Yea."

She exhaled an unsteady breath, letting it sink in I suppose. I don't think that I've really even let it sink in yet. I could hear her fighting back tears as she asked, "And you're…"

Sure. She was going to ask if I was sure. My eyes burned as my vision became bleary, obscuring my examination of the pattern on my pants. Oh I'm sure. I nodded and again softly responded, "Yea."

She softly uttered, "Right…" I saw her drop her head back out of the corner of my eye, probably still trying to fend off tears from rolling down her cheeks, a battle I myself was only seconds away from losing. Her breathing had returned to a regular, if not rapid and audible pace, and the rate was only increasing. She was panicking. Of course she was panicking.

"Of course you're sure. You of all people would be sure before… That's… Wow, kid…" She took a swig from the glass of champagne that was still in her hand, "So… Okay… Uh…" She ran her hand across her forehead. "How?"

Is she serious? "Um…"

She quickly shook her head, "I don't mean how, I mean… You are sitting here so clearly I know how, but… You gotta give me a little something more here. You don't just drop a 'Mommy I'm pregnant' on a girl and leave it at that. If you think you can January Jones your own mother you're…"

I couldn't help it. I wanted to smile or to laugh, or at least acknowledge the January Jones comment, but the little boy with his finger in the dam was nowhere to be found and the reservoir of tears that had welled up over the last couple of minutes came pouring out. I couldn't stop it. I was practically sobbing.

"Oh, Honey. I'm…" Her arm wrapped around me and she kissed the top of my head, "I'm sorry, I just…"

Apparently even in the wake of life altering news, her daughter in a soggy mess of tears was enough to pull my mother out of her own panic. I couldn't tell you how long she let me cry for, I'm sure we cried together for at least a minute or two, but she held me and stroked my hair like when I was a little girl.

Finally, with her chin still resting on my head she spoke again, "It's not Pablo's is it?"

This time I did laugh. We both laughed. It felt good to laugh.

** I do not own any characters or content related to Gilmore Girls or any other entities mentioned. **