“When are you...?”

     “When are you going to get married?” This question. My most hated question to date when I found myself in my late twenties, in a committed and happy, yet ringless relationship. I answered this question on average once a week for at least 4 years of my life. Why do people ask this question? What are they looking for? It's an extremely personal question, if you think about it. It's a loaded question. There are a million different answers to this question, very few of which are happy and positive. “We don't believe in marriage.” “Half of all marriages end in divorce; we just don't like those odds.” “We don't love each other enough.” “We can't afford a wedding.” What are they looking for when they ask this awful question? I never did come up with a good answer. The real answer would have made people too uncomfortable and would have made me feel too pathetic. “I want to get married more than anything in this world. I found the man that I love with all of my heart who I want to be married to but he doesn't want to marry me... yet.” Yet. That word. My most hated of all words. It's the word that dangles your future out in front of you like a tease. You know you want me. But you can't have me... yet. Unlike myself, my husband hadn't had the good fortune of seeing many happy marriages in his life and for him, love just didn't require paperwork. Marriage just wasn't something that he associated with happiness. I, on the other hand knew what a beautiful thing a happy marriage could be and couldn't wait to call him my husband.

     I guess looking back, it was a fair question on which to speculate. My then boyfriend and I had been together for 5 years, living together for 3. We were very happy. We owned a home. We had good jobs. That's the next step, right? Why weren't we married? It felt like an intrusive question with no acceptable answer and all the while I was attending wedding shower after wedding shower for friends wondering when it was going to be my turn. I myself asked my boyfriend this same question a million times over. Sometimes nicely, other times less so. I got various different crappy answers, but after 5 years, countless tears and an ultimatum (with an extra month tagged on for good measure) I did get a ring.

     And it was a beautiful ring and a year later we had a beautiful wedding. It was a brisk day in early November and in the back of my mind I relished in the fact that I would never have to answer that horrible question ever again. I breathed a well earned sigh of relief and settled down to live happily ever after. We lived in wedded bliss for 6 months before the masses decided we were resting on our laurels. “When are you having kids?” The questions started yet again.

     At first this question was simply a mild irritant. If you think about it, it's an extremely personal question. Again, I'm not sure what answer people are looking for when they ask. Do they want to hear that we don't like kids, or that we want them more than anything on Earth but can't have them? Do they think that we don't know that kids are an option in life? What? We would laugh politely and simply state that we weren't ready... yet. And to be honest, at that point in time early in our marriage that was the truth. We were newly married and figured we would just be husband and wife for a minute before expanding our little circle.

     But the questions persisted. “When are you guys having kids?” Again I was faced with a frequently lobbed question with no acceptable answer. And this one was worse. Once we had been trying for a while with no luck and began to consider the reality that we may really never achieve a family of our own, the pain behind this question became excruciating. To this day I will never ask anyone this question. To start, it's none of my business but more than that, I know the pain that this seemingly innocent question can inflict and I would never want to cause another human being that kind of hurt. I assume that people who ask this question had their kids very easily and must assume that if you don't have kids it must be by choice. Which by the way, would still not be any of their business.

     Again, I found myself at a loss for the right answer. I hated to tell the truth. “We would love to have kids and we have been trying for a while but it just isn't happening” because inevitably what followed was awful, often rude advice that I had not requested. I ended up learning to just give the answer that was the safest, “Someday,” to which most people would kindly remind me that I was not getting any younger and each time I would die a little inside.

     I remember one morning in particular. I was selling old junk at the flea market. I love the whole process of yard sales and flea markets. I love getting rid of old clutter and turning it into new, cold, hard cash. Well, paper cash. I usually go with my mother but on this day my husband came with me instead. We were selling our crap, making some money and a man with a beautiful little girl in a stroller came up to our table. She was absolutely adorable and as always, looking into her bright blue eyes tucked behind perfectly chubby cheeks made my heart sting a little. What I would give for a perfect little baby of my own. The man browsed our table, picking up an item then laying it back down. Even through our sunglasses he noticed both myself and my husband admiring his little one, and he smiled proudly. “Do you guys have kids?” he asked. “No,” we both shook our heads.

 

     “Someday,” I said in my standard, knee jerk answer. “Well don't wait,” he said. “It's the best thing I have ever done in my life.” And with that he walked away. I felt that familiar heaviness in my chest. That feeling like a hand has reached up into your ribcage and is squeezing and twisting your heart with all of it's might. I looked up at Jim and was taken aback. His expression said it all. While I was used to this type of surprise attack, he was completely blindsided. People ask men the kid question, but I get the distinct feeling that it is fewer and farther in between. He hadn't seen this one coming. “Really?!” he said in disbelief. “Welcome to my world,” I said, getting back to straightening my table. I felt the all too familiar burn of tears wrap around my eyes and was grateful in that moment for my sunglasses. Then, like so many other times I pulled my broken self back together and continued on with my day. Readying myself for the next blow, which I had come to expect as a normal part of my life. People can be unintentionally cruel. But that is the trick. To remember that it's unintentional. They don't know your struggle and even if they did they would have no clue what to say to make it better. There is nothing to say.

     I often get asked if I think that Jim and I will have more kids. My standard answer now is the most honest that I have ever given. “I would love to have as many kids as we are blessed with.” Most people now know that we struggled to have our first and seem satisfied with this answer. We are married with a child. The masses are happy. Nothing left to do now but die. I don't mind the question anywhere as much as I used to. I guess because Archer's birth healed so much of my pain. Holding him, I feel only gratitude. If I never experience having another baby I'm still the happiest woman alive.

     I know that this blog has caused some people to feel like they have nothing left to say in conversation. Anything can be hurtful, regardless of the intention of the sentiment. What can you say when you are just trying to make small-talk? What's left to converse about? The truth is, you can't live like that. You can ask people about work and learn that they just lost their job. You can ask people about their spouse and find out that they recently separated. That's life. It is what it is. I guess my goal in sharing my experiences is not to scare you about asking anyone any question, it's just to remind you that their answer may not be what you expected and in those moments it is important not to pry, or offer advice or try to fix their problem. All you really need to do it listen. If possible, validate what they are feeling. If people feel able to give more honest answers, then the questions don't sting quite as much.

     My goal is to inspire you to think about how your questions are worded and maybe consider the replies that you offer back when you do get an answer that indicates some struggle in that area of their lives. Maybe people don't need you to remind them that time is ticking, or that they will regret missing certain milestones in their life because odds are, they already know. If someone doesn't have kids, then they don't have kids. Maybe it isn't your business why. You may be curious, but it may be a subject that is deeply painful for them. Maybe your curiosity doesn't trump their pain in that moment. I don't want people to stop having conversations, but those conversations can be greatly improved with just a small dose of empathy. In the end, the goal should always be to leave someone feeling better than when you found them. Questions can be the gateway to that, if you are actually willing to listen and offer comfort in exchange for the answers.