It’s crack to certain women. The topic of whose fault it is that you don’t have children. Certain women, especially certain Christian women, can’t let it go. They just can’t. They will hound you and hound you and hound you to answer them. But I never have and I never will. Somehow, that particular tidbit drives them crazy and they just need to know:
Where can we point the finger? Whose fault is it? It it his? Is it hers? The two of them together? A bad combination? Just where, precisely, is the problem here?
It’s that extra pulp in an already juicy story. I swear, it’s informational crack. Over the years whenever I’ve been asked this question by women, NEVER men, I’ve always sensed this crackle of sick hope in the air that maybe, maybe it’s the woman’s fault. A small electric gleam in the eyes as they look at me. Maybe another woman’s body doesn’t work. Maybe her body doesn’t work. They can’t help themselves. It’s primal. A kind of alpha female thing.
I’m more woman if I can see you as less. I have body power. You do not.
Beyond the assumption involved, it’s sick, I tell you. Sick.
And I have never answered them either way. I never will. That information is private. It doesn’t involve them, although they want it to very much. To my mind, any random woman who asks that question instantly proves herself to be an untrustworthy person with a very low emotional intelligence quotient.
So, women with kids, some very basic advice: Never ask a woman that. Never ask a man that, either, but that rarely happens anyway. It’s simple. Never ask. It’s just not your business and if that ever flies out of your mouth, you need to ask yourself Why am I asking this? Really. What is the empty place inside you that will be magically filled through this piece of information? What IS it? The fact that you’re asking speaks of some deep deficit that this information, however titillating it may be, will never fill. And, believe me, that offhand nosy-ness can deeply hurt a woman, drag her down into the dark yet again for a very very long time. Which — I don’t know — may very well be the entire goal anyway.
Because women ……. can be cruel. And Christian women …… are the worst.
For me, though, any woman who has ever asked me that is instantly suspect to me — and that’s if I’m feeling generous. Usually, I’ve written her off in a split second. POOF! Her smiling nosy self is dead to me. In that moment, some blaring alarm goes off in my head so earsplitting, so global, that it’s forever associated with that woman. It’s Pavlovian. I see that woman and hear “Danger, Will Robinson! DANGER!” from that moment on. Forever.
I remember, from about 5 years ago, another church woman, different from this one. I was new at this particular church — the church of the worst person I’ve ever known — and decided to get involved singing in the church band. Because wouldn’t that bless everybody, and blah blah blah. And this woman, Lisa, was on the worship team, too, singing alto. I met her for the first time at practice. She was shaped like a droopy dumpling, a bit of oversteamed dim sum. I remember her stuffed smooth whiteness, her dark curly hair flopping on the sides of her face like cocker spaniel ears. She wore a proper Christian woman’s uniform: polyester floral dress, calf length; white nylon sandals, dark pantyhose, reinforced toe. Church can be strenuous. Never know when you’ll need a reinforced toe.
I wore jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie and decided we probably weren’t kindred spirits.
There wasn’t much chitchat at practice. We just practiced. But on that Sunday, my first Sunday onstage, with 5 minutes to go-time, she started with the questions.
“So do you have kids?”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh? Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh. Why not? Is there some problem?”
Who says that? Who? The blaring global alarm started to sound. I stared at her. Did my best to shoot daggers at her with my eyes. It was 4 minutes to go-time. I strained to silence the alarm and clear my head. But I did not strain to be nice. I see no biblical call to be “nice.”
“Wow. You really cut to the chase, don’t you?”
I narrowed my eyes, looked her up and down, felt the elastic of my insides suddenly solder into one hard thing: contempt. A big ol’ ball of contempt. Here I was, standing in front of church moments from singing about Jesus and his love and his grace and I literally oozed contempt. That one thing. Nothing else. My eyeballs felt very hot and huge. Maybe they were lasers. Maybe I was trying to melt her dim sum body down to a puddle of polyester dipping sauce.
“Well, I’m just interested. I mean, I’ve been there.”
“Oh? Been where?”
“Well, I couldn’t get pregnant either and then the elders laid hands on me and prayed for me and I ended up having Charlotte. Then a little later I had Scarlett. And now I just found out I’m pregnant again!”
I glared at her. Wanted to smack her. I could barely contain my shaking. Why was she putting me in this position?
“Wow. What interesting assumptions you make,” I said.
“Well, I know what you’re going through.”
“You don’t really know anything about me, Lisa.”
“Okay, but that’s what I’m talking about!”
I couldn’t deal with her presumptuous leaps of thought.
“Uh, I see that.”
“So if you ever want to talk –”
“Look,” I interrupted. “I’m sorry. We’re, like, two minutes from singing. I don’t even know you and I’m not comfortable talking about this. I need to focus on worship. I’m sorry.”
She stared down at her reinforced toes. My bluntness must have worked, because we never spoke of it again.
Sometimes, you need to respond — and quickly — to that blaring global alarm.
She named her baby Arlett.
Tracey-
I’m so sorry you run into these sick people. What kind of jackals would happily gnaw on your pain?
One thing I’ve learned over the years: if people want to fill you in on their family, they will. If they don’t offer the info, leave them alone.
The people out there who’re sure they have the magic bullet for your problem – you’re not helping.
Tracey, hope this doesn’t sound weird but I was thinking of you at church today and prayed for you.
Now I’m reading this, and I am SO sorry someone spoke to you that way. Heck, I have members in my extended family who don’t have children and it never even crossed my mind to ask them about it, let alone offer advice. That’s wayyyy too personal. I think you contained your justified anger very well and spoke diplomatically. That’s gotta be grace right there.
This is just my own curiosity and ignorance about other Christian denominations, but is this a common thing, that some people who “get saved” or are “born again” feel that there’s duty to get overinvolved in other people’s lives to aid and counsel them on whatever they perceive to be a problem in said other people’s lives? It’s just that I know a born-again Christian who behaves the same way and as I watch her get all wound up I wonder: where did they come up with this, that this is the best way to share your faith and be charitable to others?
And the name thing? Forgive me for saying this, but- Creepy.
Kate — Well, I DO know that being born-again doesn’t mean “being born again as an ass.” I mean, Jesus is our model. I think this particular problem that Christian women have — and I do think it’s unique to women — is a personality problem, a personality flaw. It ain’t got NOTHIN’ to do with Jesus. It’s part of that person’s particular imperfection.
And I think that women, in general, measure their womanliness, their intrinsic worth, even, on motherhood. It’s a sense of purpose and belonging. They belong to the whole sisterhood of motherhood, this epic age-old communion. Meet another mother, there’s an instant bond. Meet a childless woman and she’s an enigma, maybe selfish, some kind of weird threat. She doesn’t fit into what is supposed to be. “She’s not one of us” kind of thing. I swear, I can literally hear the women who’ve treated me this way — and there have been many — screaming this in their heads. On top of that, I don’t dress like them. I don’t wear mom jeans. I don’t act the way they act. I don’t talk about what they talk about. Not that this makes me better, no, it just makes me different and makes me feel like an outsider a lot.
And yeah. The name thing? So so creepy. And if you saw these children — well, they were very melon-headed. God bless ’em.
And, no. Saying you prayed for me doesn’t sound weird. Thank you.
You’re welcome. Thanks for your thoughts. And you’re right about the being treated differently–if I may relate it to myself, I’m neither married nor a mom, and all the other women at my office are at least one if not both of those. There are some conversations that I just can’t take part in, and there are some days I totally feel like an outsider. And church is one of those places where that can happen, too. Even my pastor describes the size of the parish in terms of the number of “families.” I don’t think he’s counting my cat. 🙂
OMG, they just showed a sock monkey doll on “7th Heaven”! You love those, don’t you?
Yeah, church can be one of the main places where it happens. It’s weird that one of the places where you go to feel a sense of community, a sense of family, can be a place of prejudice and isolation.
On another note — WHAT?? A sock money on “7th Heaven”?? I don’t know that show — so what is the context for the sock monkey?
Was thumbsucking involved? And was it named Funny Baby?
For the series finale half the family and some random people are boarding an RV (nice to see it end on a realistic note)–the minister said they all could take only 3 things each, and as each one boarded they showed him what they brought. When his granddaughter toddles up she holds up a sock monkey doll, and he just cracks up.
what a twit. sad she’s raising three new twits. and no, Kate, it’s not a Christian thing. a lot of Christians are busybodies, but so are a lot of non-Christians. i think it’s a human thing.
i will admit, tracey, sometimes i get over-nosey and want to know what’s going on with people (not usually about the child thing — hello, i’m 30 and have no children and get asked all the time, but i do know that it’s different for me than it is for you — it’s just annoying for me when people ask about it, because we haven’t even tried yet and it’s not their business. i have no idea if i can have children. i’m a pinkytoe, so i just assume so.) but when others have something going on, i wonder why or how, because i want to maybe help in some way, but i would never come out and ask someone about something so sensitive as “so, is there a problem with you?” i’d always just hope they’d want to tell me when they were ready to because i’ve earned their friendship and trust. if they never tell me, i know it’s because i’m not a good enough friend.
i’m a jerk, so i have been known to offer advice at random like, “hey, i know you have this problem, and i have the same exact problem. this worked for me, maybe it would work for you too.” i’m trying to do that a lot less, because i know people hate that. i’ve also been apologizing to people for doing such. it tends to come across as insensitive even though i truly just want to help.
and thank you for sharing with us. i’m so sorry you have to go through this.
oh, one more thing. occasionally, i wear typical church attire. it usually means that i have nothing else clean. i hope if we meet in person and i’m wearing my only clean clothes, you won’t dismiss our chance at real-life friendship and kindred spiritness just because i don’t do laundry often. 😉
Not much to add here, Tracey. May God bless you – it’s tough to toss these posts out to the ether. I’m grateful nobody’s tried to scold or complain in the comments. Write what you like, and then write what you need. And remember that you have friends out here.
What a horrible woman! Truly awful! Once again I am back to the hipocrisy of some people who can call themselves religious, and can turn around and be so hurtful…in church even!
As you know, I have step-children, but no biological children, and I get so tired of people asking when I’m “going to have one of my own.” They never stop to consider that I maybe cannot have one, which is the case. And it does not matter if it is me or if it is him…it just IS, and no one should have to shoulder the “blame” for that. There should be no “blame”. That is something someone tortues themselves with…they should never, ever have to endure it from a third party. EVER.
They also completely discount my relationship with my step-children when they say these things. It implies I couldn’t possible love my step-children as much as I could love a “biological” child. I am less of a parent, and they are less than my “own” child. Would they say such a horrible thing to adoptive parents? Probably.
Finally, they treat me as if I am not a complete person…not a real mother or a real woman for that matter, until I have given birth.
We have four managers here at my work, and all four are childless…at least three of them are, and I am considered to be, since step-parenting doesn’t seem to “count”. Anyway, NONE of these women are childless by choice, and this is common knowledge. So we have this senior who regularly comes and complains to me that “the managers cannot possibly understand” what it is like for her to work overtime since we “are not mothers”. We don’t understand how “her family needs her at home.” This is like a slap on the face…a hard stinging slap that burns. In one breath she is reminding us that we are somehow “less” than her, and implying that our family relationships, our marriages, are less significant and important than hers, because no children are involved.
Arrrr! Just shut up people! Shut up! Don’t ask about it…don’t discuss it. You don’t know what you are talking about, and if you attempt to open you mouth, you are just going to reinforce that fact. Just. Shut. Up.!
Okay…sorry to hijack your blog. I am finished now.
It’s just so ….
Uncharitable. I can’t even think of the words.
There’s a ghoulish pleasure in other people’s misfortunes in such comments as “is there a problem?” I mean … what is the DEAL with asking such a stupid question? What goes on in some people’s minds?? … and … bah. I have no words. It is, indeed, tough to know what to say when faced with something we ourselves are afraid of … know what I mean, tracey?
Now I am going to be uncharitable.
That woman is an abominable social moron.
Wow…that kind of attitude (of the -lett naming lady) is just horrible.
I mean – I don’t even ASK if someone has kids. I figure if it somehow becomes important, they’ll tell me.
I’ve seen the “I’m more woman than you because I’ve birthed” attitude. I’m single and childless (that last part is more personal choice than anything) and I still get it – I still get the “Oh you poor thing” because I’ve not managed to charm some chap into asking me to marry him. The thing that gets me? Five seconds after they give me the pity-face, they’re back to slamming their husband for whatever it is they perceive he lacks (or does too much).
I don’t know. I tend to think of the old saying (attributed to, among other people, Eleanor Roosevelt): Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.
Because it’s just small-mindedness to judge someone based on their family situation, whatever it may be. And to possibly add to someone’s already existing pain/discomfort over their family situation maybe not being what they intended.
On a lighter note: Can we PLEASE pass a constitutional amendment banning people from giving their kids rhyming names? That’s just wrong and if the woman’s three kids turn out to run a shop that sells “…boiled shrimp, fried shrimp, shrimp cock-tail…” or if they form some kind of horrible neo-Folk trio, it totally serves her right.
That said: I’d be dying to know what she’d name it, if she popped another sprog. Starlet? Marlet? Tharlet?
Dammit, I just thought of the name for the fourth kid:
Varlet.
You know, like out of Bugs Bunny when he’s doing Shakespeare?
Outlet, Sublet, Toilet, Piglet… her poor children. People should have to have a license to name their own children. “Yes, here is your naming children test. First off, what is your name? Angina? You fail, because we fear that you may have inherited the bad-naming gene from your mother.” If you get past giving your own name, you must list three nouns you would name your children after. If you listed a fruit, a type of shrubbery, or the name of a township, you’re out. And you are never, of course, allowed to rhyme the names of your children.
Yes, I realize I didn’t rhyme both syllables. But mine are very funny.
Thanks for all your kind comments, everyone. Let’s all just go beat her up. Kick her in her stupid reinforced toes.
Oh, and Kate — Uhm …
/(nice to see it end on a realistic note)/
Hahahahaha!
ricki — Varlet!!! HA!
/But mine are very funny./
You kill me, sarahk. 😉
Church people can be so incredibly insensitive sometimes. I ought to know. Anyway, this is the first time I’ve visited (I found you through sphere.com), and I love your blog. I wanted to comment because I waited until 39 to have my first child. And she will be an only child, partly by choice, partly because my body might not be able to handle it again, partly because of our ages, partly because of finances. Whenever women say, “She needs a brother or sister!” or “When are you going to have another,” and when I tell them my daughter is going to be an only, I get the strangest looks, like I’ve somehow broken my child’s world and she’ll never recover. It’s ridiculous. At first, I felt guilty. Then, I thought, it’s nobody’s business.
Women, and sometimes church women, can be so cruel and hurtful, all in the name of the Lord. I’ve learned to put it in perspective.
Those poor children and their names, though… how incredulous!
This just happened to me today, actually. I was coming home from the home improvement store and noticed a neighbor whom I’d never met in her yard watering her flowers. I figured, hey, I’m home during the day, she’s home during the day, it’d be nice to get to know her in case I ever needed a hand hauling something across the yard.
“So do you work?”
“I’m a homemaker.”
“Oh, wow! That’s great.” [watering grass, radio blaring, dogs lounging beneath the trees] “Do you have any kids?”
“No… We’ve been trying for awhile, but…”
[watering, watering, smiling, tra-la-laa] “So what is it, like you get pregnant and then can’t keep it or you just can’t get pregnant?”
So what is it, like you just need to sneeze and then can’t or you just never get a sneeze attack? Like I’m not crying every day wishing the meds were working… Granted, I offered the information, but still. Nice to meet you too. Bitch.
KWiz — Thank you for your thoughtful comment. And welcome!
WG — I swear — I SWEAR — I am hyperventilating right now reading this. I am so so sorry and pissed for you. I know exactly how you feel. I came to a place where I was verrry selective — like count on one hand selective — about who I shared with, you know? I had to do what I needed to do to protect myself and my heart.
Man, what a cow. I’m sorry, WG. Sheesh. I just want to beat her up SO bad.
Tell Mrs. Kravitz she can just cram it with walnuts.
LOL — thanks… Too funny.
Wow! I know this doesn’t even come close but I chose to formula feed my second born before she was born. I HATED breastfeeding and it gave me crazy PostPartum Depression so badly that I didn’t care if our first who was breastfed lived or died. I cannot take antidepressents because they make me numb and catatonic. When I told our neighbor while bottle feeding her that she is fed formula she replied that I must have been heartbroken over that loss. Umm….no. I get asked if I had a medical reason why I didn’t breastfeed as if that a) is anyone’s business b) having a medical reason is the ONLY acceptable reason why anyone wouldn’t breastfeed. The neighbor was someone I had only spoken “hi” to a handful of times so it’s not like we were friends. =P