Well, that depends on who is asking, doesn’t it?
You’d be surprised the number of women who have asked me this. Or maybe you won’t. I thought when people find out you’re knocked up, they ask when the due date is, right? I had no idea that the number of half-finished pregnancies you’ve got under your belt was of interest?
I think what they mean to say is, “How many kids do you have?” or “Do you have any idea what you’re getting in to?”
But the pesky word “pregnancy” puts me in a position when I need to either lie to avoid awkwardness, or tell the truth in a way that doesn’t make the asker regret being alive.
So, I’m asking you, loyal readers. What is the correct answer to that question?
Q: You’re pregnant! Is this your first pregnancy?
B.) Well, it’s my second pregnancy. Hoping to get a baby out of it this time.
C.) No. I had a miscarriage earlier this year. Thanks for reminding me, dumb bitch.
Now, mostly I’ve gone with either A or B. But I end up feeling bad about it when I say, “Yes.” Like I’m a divorcee who has just checked the “Single” box. I’m skipping over something. Technicalities.
Am I embarrassed? I mean, I’m all about being open about the Big MC, remember? Rubbing it in your face? Does that mean I have to be Debbie Downer whenever some chipper face asks me if I’ve been pregnant before?
Yes. Yes, I think it does.
The times I’ve gone with B, the face of the woman normally melts into sorrow. As much sorrow as you can muster for a stranger, anyway. But then a handful of women have surprised me with the response; “I’ve had two myself.” What? Maybe they were setting me up? Testing me? The first rule of Fight Club?
Or, worst of all, for a brief moment before they catch themselves, the woman will scrunch up her face or cock her head, like, “Why are you telling me this?”
And that’s a good question. Because if you’re having a shitty day, and someone asks, “How are you,” you don’t usually lay it all out for them, depending on the circumstances.
But if someone asks you for a specific number of something, I think you’re obligated to offer one.
Oh, the trials of a one-woman reformer. Making miscarriage a normal part of everyday conversation.
I shall carry the torch
Feel free to offer your own answer. An option “D,” if you will. I’m looking for something that makes the dead baby thing seem lighthearted.
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