Let’s just call the offender “she” because if I use “you,” you Dear Reader, will feel like I’m blaming you. And I’m not blaming you.
I don’t even know how to bring this up because either she thought an acquaintance’s fertility was fair game for casual conversation or she thought we were very close. We are not. Maybe someday we could be. Maybe not after this. Whoops.
This is not a post about fertility heartache but, if you don’t know me intimately, it easily could be. I’ve been so so fortunate. I have a lot of friends who have had trouble conceiving — some the first time out, others after having other babies with no trouble. I have friends who have adopted. How did she know I didn’t?
Usually, I can talk freely to anyone about nearly anything — like no filter, freely talking to you, we can be best friends in 5 minutes if you get it right. But whether I am planning to have more kids requires me to discuss with you the circumstances of my other children’s conception (my concerns that I have PCOS leading to trying and successfully conceiving DaughterOne immediately after getting married, the happy Oops! that DaughterTwo happened to be) (although my husband will not acquiesce that D2 was a surprise), my tolerance for no bathroom privacy or personal time, my reservation to apply parenting techniques like cry-it-out, when I want return to work and whether it will be to my career as a lawyer, our finances, and errr … my age. And I don’t like being asked whether I’m having more children because it feels like pressure to decide right now and hold firm to this decision. The conversation immediately feels like a business interview about where I see myself in 5 years.
Am I having more kids? You definitely want to know now. Don’t you? Well, I don’t know. Probably not. But maybe. (This adorable little blob is DaughterTwo back in the day).
So please, if you don’t know someone at all beyond the pick-up-drop-off, just talk about jump squats, can-can sales, or seasonally appropriate produce picking.