On Having A Uterus

Freelance writer Carrie Friedman has a piece in Newsweek this week about how tired she is with people prying into her reproductive decisions. She shares stories about acquaintances touching her stomach and asking why she isn't pregnant; coworkers who tell her she won't know true happiness until she has a baby; the mother of a 4-year-old who socks the author in the face, who blames her, not her child, for the blow that left her bleeding.

News flash: not all childless people are aching to become parents. While most are probably not charter members of the AKF, some just don't like children enough to have any of their own. The author says she does plan to have children--some day--but for the time being, she has grown weary of those who question why she doesn't have a baby.

I love babies--LOVE them--but since becoming pregnant and having children, I have never heard so many personal or prying questions. People seem to think that the state of a woman's uterus is open for speculation, even if you only know her casually or not at all. My kids are amazing and I love them more than words can say. They are the center of my life, the most fantastic thing I have ever done. At the same time though, I'm still ME, the same person I was before pregnancy and motherhood. Becoming a mother is not a lobotomy.

How do you know if that woman you are badgering IS trying to have a baby, and each question is like rubbing salt into the wound of infertility? Why are women not considered complete unless they are mothers, but not if they have rewarding and successful careers? Why are men never peppered with questions about their plans (or lack of plans) for family?

When Johnny was born and I was still in the hospital, someone asked when I was going to have another baby. I was exhausted, sore and nauseated, and having another child was the last thing on my mind. When I was pregnant with Maureen, a coworker asked how many children we were going to have. I just told her that we'd see how it went with number two and go from there. If you're supposed to know how many kids you want, well, then we are in trouble.

I think it can be OK to ask questions, but it depends on how well you know the person and how you phrase it. For example, I might ask my friend Lauren, who I have known for almost 15 years, if she and her husband would like to have more kids, but I don't ask, "When are you going to have another baby?" and I don't ask incessantly. My friend Christine just had a baby girl, and while I asked, "Do you plan to find out the gender?" (not, "Why aren't you finding out the gender?), I didn't ask about possible names when she didn't volunteer them, I didn't ask if the baby was planned and I didn't ask about symptoms beyond, "How are you feeling? Anything I can do to help?" Pregnancy isn't exactly a picnic for everyone, and even mothers who conceive on purpose can suffer from misgivings or ambivalence. It's not fair to assume everyone feels the same about the process as you do and it isn't fair to be nosy about something so private.

As for us, here's the answer: I want more children, but I don't know if we will have more. It depends on a lot of things. Money, for one, and if I really want to put my body through another 9 months of sciatica and vomiting. Where we live, how to space them, and once Johnny is in school, if we want to start all over with a newborn. We'll see what kind of toddler Maureen grows into, and then go from there. I honestly don't mind discussing it with people I know and love, but I get tired of it when the same people ask over and over, and I don't see why a stranger would care to tell me that I should stop now, since we have one of each.

Maybe instead of a baby, I'll have kittens instead. The pictures alone would pay for college for Maureen and Johnny.