Well, sort of. I suppose folks waited a few hours. It seems like once you share a pregnant belly with the world, your life -and by life I mean career plans and sex life - are up for public discussion.
If only they'd wanted to touch my belly. I could handle that. I was prepared for that. I wasn't prepared for coworkers asking me about my ovaries.
My favorite example of this was when Stella was nearly a year old. I took her to the Papa's company barbecue where there were as many new babies as there were hot dogs. One of the Papa's coworker's husbands - catch that: coworker's husbands, not exactly a close confidant of mine - shouted across the picnic blankets, “Hey, Katherine, are you pregnant again? What's taking you so long?"
This is literally what ran through my head: A) What a dork. B) I finally understand what the word guffaw means.
I really did feel like yelling back, "No, but I'll have my ovulation flow chart on your desk tomorrow morning. ASAP."
What a dorky dork dorkus.
I know this is an extreme case. Most people know it's not exactly polite to loudly shout about someone else's reproductive plans. But I have noticed a strange trend in our culture where the more polite versions of this inquiry are acceptable.
I'm fully aware that I may be sounding a bit prudish on this one. And I assure you I'm the first to celebrate bellies and babies. I also think it's really up to the individual mama and papa to figure out what's comfortable for them as far as spilling the baby beans. I hold absolutely nothing against those who want to share early and openly. But I think my personal discomfort with all this is many layered. Firstly, I think it's only fair to let a woman focus on healing her woo woo before you start asking her when she's ready for another round. I also think it's quite presumptuous to assume that everyone wants more than one child. The list goes on.
Mostly, I think I'm just super protective of my own little family unit.
I recently took this photo of Stella at the park. In it, she's wearing a hat the Papa and I bought in Peru before we became pregnant. We walked into a restaurant in Cuzco not really sure if we wanted children at all, and we walked out knowing that we would soon try to get pregnant. This sounds so rash, but it wasn't. After ten years of being together, we'd slowly been dancing toward this point. We'd had many years where we felt completely satisfied with the notion of being just the two of us. It felt good and right. We'd also had many years where we felt totally sure that kids were in our future. It shifted as we shifted, and we really felt no hurry about it all. We were (and are) young and had plenty of time to do our thing.
A year passed, we got pregnant, and Stella arrived with great celebration. Life is grand. I look back at this progression and these stories and am touched by what they signify for me, the Papa and Stella: the warm intimacy of a new family.
But back to strangers asking me about my uterus...
We're not the kind of couple who publicly discussed getting pregnant in the first place. It's not like we're super private. We'd talked about it casually with some folks, but we really didn't feel the need to bring everyone in on the adventure. Once we were pregnant, I actually didn't want to tell anyone for a really long time. I knew that once we told people, it wouldn't be just ours anymore. And for a brief period of time, as I fought off comically disgusting bouts of morning sickness, it was ours. Stella was just ours, and we could laugh and smile and cry and freak out all on our own. Just the two (three) of us. Selfish? I guess. Amazing? Absolutely.
Of course, I openly talk with my mama friends and family about the prospect of having another child, and we're no longer coy about wanting another. We do and we will (if we're so blessed). But I must admit that when it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, I'll most likely want to do it the same way again. We'll quietly get to work, the Papa and me, and we'll tell our beloveds when we're ready. It's something I look forward to with great affection. We'll revel in our expanding brood, all four of us, and soak up that special quiet time before the happy hullabaloo hits.
Until then, I think I'll keep my calendar to myself, thank you very much. After all, there’s so much joy and hilarity to be had with surprises, right? Trust me, world. You'll know when a baby is a'comin'. My belly and my smile will tell all.
A year passed, we got pregnant, and Stella arrived with great celebration. Life is grand. I look back at this progression and these stories and am touched by what they signify for me, the Papa and Stella: the warm intimacy of a new family.
But back to strangers asking me about my uterus...
We're not the kind of couple who publicly discussed getting pregnant in the first place. It's not like we're super private. We'd talked about it casually with some folks, but we really didn't feel the need to bring everyone in on the adventure. Once we were pregnant, I actually didn't want to tell anyone for a really long time. I knew that once we told people, it wouldn't be just ours anymore. And for a brief period of time, as I fought off comically disgusting bouts of morning sickness, it was ours. Stella was just ours, and we could laugh and smile and cry and freak out all on our own. Just the two (three) of us. Selfish? I guess. Amazing? Absolutely.
Of course, I openly talk with my mama friends and family about the prospect of having another child, and we're no longer coy about wanting another. We do and we will (if we're so blessed). But I must admit that when it comes down to the brass tacks of it all, I'll most likely want to do it the same way again. We'll quietly get to work, the Papa and me, and we'll tell our beloveds when we're ready. It's something I look forward to with great affection. We'll revel in our expanding brood, all four of us, and soak up that special quiet time before the happy hullabaloo hits.
Until then, I think I'll keep my calendar to myself, thank you very much. After all, there’s so much joy and hilarity to be had with surprises, right? Trust me, world. You'll know when a baby is a'comin'. My belly and my smile will tell all.
1 comment:
I feel the same towards my potential infertility. As my friend Barbara said about it, "I settled into it like one settles into a cozy armchair with a good detective novel. . "
Yeah. Its a page turner. . .
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