The Big Question

There must be some weird mist released into the air when your child turns 17 months old. Something that seeps from the pores of the toddler and into the brains of friends, family, casual acquaintances and fellow bus passengers that prompts them all to ask
“The Big Question.”

“So, are you guys going to try for another one?”

Before I go any further, let me just answer it right now because this powerful pheromone, or whatever it is, has probably seeped right through your DSL and is prompting you to ask it now. And the answer is….

Dum ta da duuummmm…

Maybe.

Since the medical community has so delicately categorized me as “AMA,” which is short and rude for “Advanced Maternal Age,” our window of opportunity may be closed for all I know. But that’s ok. We’ve already got one baby that works fine and matches our color scheme, so we don’t feel obligated to collect the whole set. In short, if we can hatch another one, great, if not, that’s ok too.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s take a closer look at what’s going on here. When you ask someone if they’re planning on trying for another baby, aren’t you asking the most personal of personal questions? I mean, why don’t you just ask the woman ahead of you in line at Safeway if she plans to continue having well-timed sex with her husband? Or ask your next-door neighbor if she feels confident that she’s got enough cash to diaper, feed, educate and eventually put braces on a whole extra baby human?

It’s even worse if you’re dealing with someone who's AMA, like me, since you could potentially substitute in something along the lines of “Hey, so have you starting getting hot flashes yet or do you still actually think you can slip one past the goalie?”

Maybe it’s just me, but I’m always taken aback with the frequency and boldness with which this question comes up. And I chafe a little each time. It’s weird, too, because I was one of those pregnant women who did not mind people – even complete strangers – putting their hands on my expanding belly. Nor did I mind other women asking me intimate details about every physical aspect of my pregnancy.

I suppose I shouldn’t let it bother me. At least they’re not eying me up and asking it a different way. Like, “Umm, you’re not planning on having another one… are you?!”