The Procreation Question

We probably all know someone who has asked it. We have probably, most of us, been the one asking. It is a seemingly polite question that holds in its core the potential for horribly painful reactions, whether or not the asker ever sees the result.

 

“You just got married! When are you having kids????”

 

This happened to us at Sam’s Club just this afternoon. A well meaning relative, who hasn’t been up to date on our situation, as he is from a section of the family we simply don’t see very often, congratulated us on our recent marriage and followed it up with, “So when are the babies due? How many months??”

 

I spent the next fifteen minutes balling in the car before I could breathe enough for us to get back on the road and go to Wegmans, my eyes red and puffy, and the ache rising in my head.

 

He didn’t know. He meant well. But that one simple question is like a knife right in the heart. Even when I think I am finally going to be okay. 

 

I want children. I want them very much. And I was going to have one. And then that opportunity vanished in the space of a breath.

 

And I cannot hear the question of “When are you going to have children?” without at the very least a spasm of misery. Because I was going to have a child. I was going to be his mother. I was going to love him unconditionally. For all the days of our lives and more.

 

All we can say when people ask us is, “Not right now. We have a lot going on. O yes, in the future. Yes, we want them.”

 

And I know each questioner is trying to be polite. Okay, some are just being unbearably nosy and selfish. But for the most part, it is a simple, common question, intended to be kind.

 

I am sure I have inquired. I am sorry if I offended or upset you. I had no idea what you might have been struggling with, or what you wanted or didn’t want. That’s probably why I asked.

 

I can’t tell you not to ever ask. Someday, maybe I’ll be ready to respond without choking on my words. Right now, though, it’s impossible. Either I’ll blurt out “Well, after I ‘get over’ the loss of my first pregnancy,” or more likely, I’ll politely say, “O, not right now,” and wish I had a better, more truthful answer, that won’t feel like an attack. 

 

Just, right now, I can not handle it.

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