No Vacancy

"...and then she came out," my coworker said, finally ending her unasked-for labor story. She winced. "She tore me apart. I had to sit on a donut pillow for the next two months."

I was horrified. Eight weeks of pain after labor. God, it had to hurt every time she peed or pooped. And she was probably exhausted from trying to breastfeed the baby and adjust to life as a mom. The things that her body went through...How was this woman not having PTSD symptoms?

I cleared my dry throat. I think my mind was still trying to grasp how a baby could tear a woman like that.  "Because of the episiotomy?"

She shook her head. "No, there wasn't time. She came out like a bull."

"What, like feet first?" I asked, my voice louder than before. She had to be stitched up on all side of that opening. Was...was her down there, her under carriage, her pudenda as terrifying as the Joker's stitched up smile?

"No, she came out head first." The woman's expression changed from pained to soft remembrance and I wondered if she'd just been shot with a tranquilizer dart. "But it was all worth it. There's nothing better than a baby. Becoming a mother is the best part of being a woman."

"Right," I said slowly. I told myself to give the woman a polite smile instead of pointing at her and screaming, "Liar!"

"So, what about you?" She turned her attention to me.  I was already bracing myself when I heard her next question. "When are you thinking of having kids?"

Frick, I hate that question. It's up there with, "How old are you?" but below "How much do you weigh?" That question really should be illegal to ask a woman. I mean, I don't think men get asked that on a regular basis like women do.

It's such a loaded question, too. I mean, how do you know I'm not actively trying to have kids? Or I just had a miscarriage? Or I was told I couldn't have kids? Or I had a kid and there was a terrible accident and now I grieve the loss and don't want another kid?

People need to remove that question from their small talk. Just go ahead and highlight and delete it out of there.

Back to me and that question...

I used to be honest.

I used to say the truth.

I used to be stupid.

So goddamn stupid.

Because telling people that my uterus wears a "No Vacancy" sign gets me nothing but:

You'll change your mind... You're still young... Motherhood is the ultimate experience of life for a woman... How can you say that? You're being selfish... Thats what life is all about. You don't know real love until you become a parent.

And then when I try to insist, "No, really. We aren't going to have kids and we're happy with this decision," then the pitchforks and sanctimony come out. (I guess I'm Shrek in this scenario. And I guess that works. I really just want to be left alone in my swamp.)

Ah hell, you're judging me now, aren't you?  I guess I'm still a little stupid.

I've heard it all, and yes, still gonna give it a hard pass.  Middle-finger-up-high kind of hard pass.

There are seven BILLION people on this small blue planet. I could argue that my choice to abstain to add to that population is a good thing. {Thomas Malthus would certainly agree. The human J-curve won't be going up forever. Hell, it's already on its way down. We're actively trying to figure out how we can live in Mars because Earth is running out resources to support humans!}

I could argue that it's chauvinistic to expect every woman to become a mother. To think that her life is incomplete without the production of another human.

I could argue that it bothers me that men in suits get to make laws for what I want to do with my uterus were I to use it. Doesn't it bother you? It's understandable why I want to punch strangers in the face when they start spouting their opinions over my life's choices. I mean, to be clear, I normally want to do that anyway thanks to the rage issues, but the urge grows stronger when people act like I'm a traitor to the human race for resisting the path laid out for my body.

Ah, fuck, no, not even going to go through that effort. I don't care. I could give less than two flying fucks what anyone thinks.

I don't have to explain myself.

I don't want to.

It's my choice, and I'm ecstatic with the decision. Each passing day has strengthened my feelings that it was the right choice for me, because nobody else is living my life but me. And I am so fucking happy.

But let's return to the conversation at hand...REWIND...(tape sounds)

"What about you, when are you going to have kids?" my coworker asks.

All those thoughts I just wrote about run through my head, and I'm wise enough now to keep my mouth shut.

I do the one thing that keeps the peace between me and the rest of the world. The one that provides answers I'm not willing to share. It's all up to what they guess my answer is based on my nonverbal response.

I smile, a closed lip smile, and shrug.