The Window

People who have kids are great. Kids are great. Families are great. BUT I am sooo tired of blogs and answering machines and everything else that is just covered in kids.

I don't hate kids...I just said they were great, after all, and I truly mean that. I am just sick of this window. You know the one I'm on the outside of, looking in.

I know, call me crazy, but let's examine the last straw for me. Or one in a series of recent "last straws":

I went on a lunch interview (never do that, I'll explain why another day) and of course the interviewer was intimidatingly tall, thin, blonde, stylishly dressed. She looked as though she hadn't a care in the world. I had a hunch that I was not going to enjoy this interview, and I was right. Wait, wait! These aren't the things I really had an issue with. It's when she sat down to eat and immediately announced that she is pregnant. Again.

Really? Do you HAVE to announce that at the beginning of ANYTHING?

What if I had just had a miscarriage?

What if I couldn't have kids?

What if that was the LAST thing I wanted to hear at any time, for any reason?

I can only imagine what she would have said or done if I had burst out into tears right there in the middle of the restaurant (and we were, literally, in the middle). But I didn't, I was too ticked off for that.

Given the situation, what had she forced me to do? Just what I'd done: I smiled graciously and congratulated her. Did she see my tightly closed teeth? The fact that the smile didn't reach my eyes? I think not.

In the past I've done a lot of babysitting, some nannying, church preschool teaching, and even some after-school-program-ing, so I love kids. I adore them. It's situations like these that I cannot stand. Oh, and please don't post or pass around your ultrasound photos. I know you're at that wonderful milestone and you can't wait to share your joy. But what if your joy is someone else's pain?

I want to share your happiness, I really do, it's just that I can't.

You are squarely where I have always wanted to be, and as the years go by, I am standing still in this department and suddenly you are sprinting gleefully by, blissfully unaware that you are leaving those grieving what might have been and hoping for what might be in your pink-and-blue wake.

You're pregnant and we're all supposed to be sensitive to you and your needs and your moods...but what about the silent ones around you to whom you are showing no sensitivity whatsoever? Is there a hormone that courses though the body of a pregnant woman causing her to no longer remember what it was like to pray for motherhood?

I know, these are the things that no one ever says. We think them, but we never speak them. We would be being "impolite". The best we could hope for after opening our mouths would be a condescending, pitiful, "There there, dear." kind of response. The best we could do after that would be to try our best not to wince at the inevitable, "Your turn will come.", or something sickeningly similar. So we grin, glance at your photos, and find an excuse to exit the room...not that you notice. You are enveloped in your pregnancy haze and are enjoying the congratulations and subtle new status.

Right about now you're thinking I'm bitter and I should just get over it. I'm not bitter, and I'm not alone. In fact, I'll bet there are some of you reading this who know exactly what I'm writing about, who I respect (as long as you don't go crazy and do anything illegal), because being childless in this or any culture is hard if you want children. It's probably at the very least annoying if you don't want them.

My nose is no longer pressed tightly against the glass.

I've learned better than to torture myself.

I'll still smile and say all of the right things. But it sure feels good to say the things that are normally "not allowed" (for reasons I have yet to ascertain other than the politeness factor). I don't care who is "offended" or upset or disgusted. Go back to folding your onesies with ears and sanitizing your whatever it is you have to sanitize next.