Last week, it finally happened: a man on an elevator asked, "So, when are you due?"
I knew it was just a matter of time. I'm 15 weeks along, and for the last couple of weeks I've been getting a lot of those "wow her belly looks kinda big but no way am I gonna ask if she's pregnant" looks. Finally, I seem to have broken through the barricade to the point where brave (or foolish) souls will not only assume I'm probably pregnant, but actually ask.
I admitted that he was the first person who'd asked, and actually stumbled around for a minute trying to remember how to answer his question. When am I due, again? Finally I remembered. "March."
"First baby?" he asked with just a flicker of a patronizing smile on his face.
"No, uh...fifth." I said.
"Fifth! Oh. Fifth. Well, then. Fifth."
"Yes."
"Well, you're a brave one!" he said, as the elevator opened on his floor. "Good luck!"
"Thanks," I said as he got off. As the door shut, I cursed myself for once again not having a better response than "Yes" and "Thanks".
See, I've had this conversation a thousand times before. I had it on a near-daily basis when pregnant with my fourth baby, and even fairly frequently when pregnant with my third (which always amused me: since when did three kids become considered a crazy huge family? Yet people treated me as if I was slightly nuts). With rare exception, people mean no harm when they say things like "Boy, you'll have your hands full!" and "Better you than me!" It's just that when you hear the same things over and over, that smile and "Thanks!" starts to come out through clenched teeth.
The strange and overly-surprised reactions I got to my fourth pregnancy were what inspired me to write my book Table for Eight: Raising a Large Family in a Small-Family World, in which dozens of moms and dads of many shared their advice for everything on keeping the house running, to, guess what, dealing with those redundant "HOW many kids do you have?" questions and comments. But I always have a hard time actually being quick enough to pull one of those responses out when I have a conversation like the elevator exchange from last weekend.
Maybe I'll stop trying. After all, answering all the questions often implied in what can seem like an innocent question would take a lot longer than is appropriate for small talk. Yes, I'm pregnant with my fifth child, yes, I know what causes that, yes, it is a wanted baby, yes, I suppose we can afford it, no we aren't rich, no, we aren't poor, yes, I have a life outside of child-rearing, no, they don't just fall out at this point (though with me it is something close to that...), no, we aren't gluttons for punishment, no, my religion does not forbid birth control, yes, I just really love children, and like having a lot of them around. And yes, my hands--and heart--are full, thank you!
If only there was a way to sum all this up in a simple, polite phrase, eh? But since there's not, I suppose for now, "Yes," and "Thanks" will have to do. People will think what they want to anyway, and all I can do is be gracious, assume the best intent when I can, and enjoy my pregnancy.
I better start practicing, though. I have a feeling I'll be hearing "Fifth! Really?!" a lot over the next 25 weeks...
--Meagan also blogs at www.meaganfrancis.com/blog and www.largerfamilies.com
