Mom

Just got off the phone with Mom. Turns out she hadn't read the e-mail yet (see previous post). Conversation went something like this:

V: So, Mom, there's something I want to tell you that I mentioned in the e-mail I sent, something I've wanted to tell for a while.
M: Well, why don't we just leave it and I'll read the e-mail?
V: Well, no, I want to tell you in person.
M: But, aren't you at work? You probably can't talk right now.
V: I'm in my office; I can talk.
M: OK.

Explanation followed along with some reasons as outlined in previous post. Mom's first reaction to the news was:

M: In May??
V: Yes.
M: Can—you can do that?
V: Yes.
M: Well, as long as you are happy.
V: We are, very, and very excited about the possibility of becoming fathers too. And I know that you can't share in our day-to-day lives, but I really want you to know what's happening in them and hopefully be a part that way.
M: Well, what's important is that you are grown up, you're an adult, if you think you are making the right decisions with your life, you are responsible for your own soul (italics mine), and as your mother all I can do is support you.
V: Even if you disagree?
M: Even if I disagree.
V: Thanks.

Her voice had become very quiet and sort of shaky. My sister and her kids were over, so I'm glad she had someone to debrief with (my sister knew, by the way, further tangling this web). I am really grateful to Yatsu and Corn for your advice; I am glad I did this; I feel better about my part. And still there is that feeling of selfish recklessness that comes everytime I come out of a closet (and I've come out of some, closets built, to my amazement, within other closets), that sense not of empowerment and triumph but of having done a little damage by choosing truth over discretion.