Meet the Cicalas

Dear Baby,

It is really unreasonable that it has taken me this long to get to the Cicala side of the family. I am drawn to people with big personalities (just look at your father) and let me tell you… everyone in this family delivers.

First of all, let me just say that I couldn’t WAIT to tell your Nonna and Pops, your Aunt Joanne, Uncle Mike, your two cousins—Marielle and Michael, and of course, Uncle Bart, about you. They found out later than the Leavitts for mostly logistical reasons. I had to tell Grandma and Grandpa Leavitt on the phone, but with Pittsburgh just a few hours away, the Cicala side was certainly going to find out in PERSON. I had grand plans. The only roadbump? Getting your father to agree on a weekend to go to Pittsburgh. If it were up to him, he would have waited until August to share the news (MY turn to eye roll).

At first we agreed on Easter—a special occasion already—but I didn’t want to wait that long. By Easter, I was over 13 weeks pregnant, and that just seemed like too long for me to keep the secret, and too a long time for them not to know. However, I didn’t want to tell them before we were confident everything was all hunky dory with you, so we waited until the first doctor’s appointment that we got a visual of your heartbeat. That was on 2/20, and I was all gung ho to go to Pittsburgh the next weekend, but your father had a mental block that it needed to be the first weekend in March. So.. fine. Marriage is about compromise. I could wait one more week. But every time I talked to Nonna on the phone it pained me that I couldn’t reveal the secret.

So first weekend in March… away to Pittsburgh we go. About a few hours into the road trip, we get a suspicious call from Aunt Joanne…

“Hey guys, I just wanted to ask you… are you going to reveal any big news today? Is Taylor pregnant? Because I have a hair appointment and I have to miss lunch, but I will cancel the appointment if you have big news to share…”

Awwkkkwarrrrddd….

Oh, Aunt Joanne. So the oldest child. Doesn’t miss a beat, and ever so forward (this will be you).

I open my mouth, but say nothing. Dad, turning his poker face into a poker voice, replies “No! Jesus!” It was convincing to me, but Aunt Joanne gives a few more, “Ok, so definitely no big news then” s, and Dad hangs up. He is of course annoyed. I’m racked with guilt and confusion over whether we should have actually told her (I didn’t want her to miss it!) or whether we did the right thing. Your father of course, was not torn in the least.

“It’s her damn fault! She should have known better than to think I would tell her on the phone when we are going up there!”

And the car ride rolled on… Dad irritated and me with butterflies.

We got to Nonna and Pop’s at around lunch time, and immediately got the heavenly aroma of the best Italian food you will ever eat... and enough of it to feed a village. Let me paint the rest of the picture for you: an absolutely insane transgender jack russell terrier, Uncle Bart—the lone wolf—making sarcastic (or not?) cracks at everyone, Pop busting out his homemade wine and me declining while Dad tries to tell him we are giving up wine for Lent (I don’t think your father has ever given anything up for Lent), Uncle Mike accepting the wine gratefully, Pop being extremely disappointed in my passing on his wine (he brought out his rose, which he knows I love), and in the middle of it Dad and Nonna going at each other over God-knows-what in hybrid English/Itlalian. Meanwhile, your cousins are sitting like quiet little angels (like you are sure to be).

Normally I would be sitting there, stuffing my face, trying to take in as much of the spectacle as I can (and I’m sure at this point in your life you too, have a good handle on the spectacle that is the Cicalas), but THIS trip I was distracted. Your father had promised… promised… me that he would video-record Nonna’s reaction to the news. I had to beg him to do this, and I wasn’t letting go. So amidst the chaos, I was trying to get your father’s attention—giving him “the eye,” whispering “is now a good time?” and that sort of thing.

I had brought an assortment of pictures (printed, of course) from your father and my honeymoon in Italy to show Nonna. Inside these pictures, I had hidden a sonogram of you at 8 weeks (we were then in week 10). At LAST your father said, “Just show her the damn pictures!” in his most annoyed voice ever (he was particularly impatient with her this trip). Green light.

I showed her the pictures, and in between of course there were many distractions (there always are), and finally I got to the sonogram and said, “And I have one more picture to show you…”

Nonna kind of looked at me, then looked at the picture, then squinted, then looked at your father, then back at me, then back at the picture. I’m not sure she knew what, or who you were. Meanwhile, Marielle realized what she had in her hands, came over and hugged me, and said, “Congratulations!” She is so excited and happy to have a Cicala cousin, as is Michael. Nonna again looked to your father, and he said “YES! WE’RE HAVING A BABY!” and ultimately Nonna joined in on the congratulations, along with the rest of the crew. Like everything else, it was a spectacle.

Your Aunt Joanne arrived very shortly thereafter. Another spectacle. She had completely gone on sisterly instinct, skipped out on her blow dry, and busted in the door with wet hair waiting for the news she knew was coming. When your father confirmed her premonition, he gave her the vindication that she wanted…

“I KNEW IT! I just had a feeling! I told Mike this last night! I said ‘Mike, do you think they’re coming up to give us some news?’ Mike, didn’t I tell you last night? I was RIGHT!”

Another trait characteristic of the oldest child… always being right. J

And then the spectacle went on… Nonna got offended that Aunt Joanne hadn’t alerted her to her suspicions about you beforehand, as though Aunt Joanne had actually known for certain that we were coming with your news. I think Nonna felt out of the loop. Of course this vexed both your father AND your Aunt Joanne, but eventually everyone was on the same page, extremely excited…and the spectacle came full circle. Nonna can’t wait for you to get here and she talks about you every time we talk to her. Your cousins are excited, your Cicala grandparents are excited, your Aunt Joanne and Uncle Mike… even your Uncle Bart.

Oh, and one of my favorite lines of the afternoon? Upon discovering that you were the reason I wasn’t partaking in wine (and it wasn’t, in fact, Lent), Pops said to me, “Did the doctor say you couldn’t drink wine then?”

HA!

The rest of the weekend flew by. Aunt Joanne and Uncle Mike took your father and I to their country club for dinner, where I openly discussed you with strangers for the first time (it felt so nice and relieving). The next day Dad and I stopped at Nonna and Pop’s to pick up our usual truckload of Italian fare (I think they believe we bought the truck solely for this purpose), and we were on our way. I only wish I had taken more pictures, but I tend to get too enamored by my surroundings to remember to take out my phone.

I could go on forever about the Cicalas (and I have). I definitely have more to say about your cousins, and surely will, but I’m wrapping it up for now. This certainly wasn’t the story that I expected to tell prior to going to Pittsburgh, but by God, I wouldn’t love the Cicalas if I always got from them what I expected. What did I tell you? Personality.

Love,

Mom

There they are, the proud grandparents.
Ready to load the truck with seven boxes of food and beverage.
(Note: this is only because your father capped them at seven boxes)

Top picture is dinner for ONE night.
Nonna doesn't like us to have to cook after we drive back from Pittsburgh.
Bottom picture is our fabulous freezer collection of biscotti, sausage, pizzelles, pesto, parmasean cheese...
you know, all the normal freezer foods.

Dad, organizing our glorious collection of tomato sauces.
We still have some supply left over from the Cicala trip to DC during the wedding.