Please, Everyone, Stop Asking Moms When They Are Going To ‘Have Another’

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TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains information about miscarriage, which may be triggering to some.

“Are you going to have more children?”

The question is innocent enough, but truthfully, it’s invasive, as I think about the journey to birthing the one I have. It is true — our children are miracles — but the questions come without consideration of the challenges faced in getting to the moments of endless hugs and kisses. Before my daughter made her debut as an 8-pound being, there was another child that I was so anxiously awaiting to meet, but that never happened.

The day was November 8, 2016.

While people were out voting for the next president, I was feeling like something was different about me. I was only two days into being 29 years old, but I just had this feeling. After a day of engaging with students in the leadership program I worked for at the time, I made a stop at the local pharmacy for a pregnancy test.

What I felt turned out to be true: I was pregnant. It didn’t feel real. It was a moment that I had been waiting for all year, especially after we decided that we were ready to get the procreation poppin’.

The excitement was met with a hint of bittersweetness.

My husband, but fiancé at the time, was out of town with his father after learning that he was ill. The tug between joy and sadness was more than real, and selfishly, I longed to have him there with me at this life-changing moment.

I remember spending the rest of the night toggling between election results and websites about the development of babies. I knew that I needed to confirm what the home pregnancy test told me, and thankfully, I was able to get an appointment at Planned Parenthood for the next day.

The results were in: This baby’s due date was July 27, 2017.

I told everyone and even joked about having a baby in tow at the next Thanksgiving dinner. I had no idea that I’d have to go back and say there was no baby a few weeks later.

By December 12, 2016, I anticipated that I was about eight weeks along. By this time, I hadn’t grown much, if at all, but didn’t take that as a sign of any issues ahead. Every woman’s body is unique and grows how it is supposed to when she is pregnant, so I felt like I was right on track.

As the technician began the ultrasound on my belly, we anxiously watched the screen.

I didn’t know exactly what I was looking for, but anxiety started to set in when she asked, more than once, “When was your last period?” She finally left the room and I didn’t know what to say. My husband encouraged me to ask questions if I didn’t understand, but I hadn’t been in a situation like that before. I knew every pregnancy didn’t go as planned, yet I had no clue that I would be part of that number.

Finally, we were moved to another room to hear the news: There was no baby. I was experiencing a blighted ovum, meaning I was pregnant but growth had stopped soon after the egg was fertilized. I would continue to have positive pregnancy tests until the pregnancy was terminated.

Recalling the details of ending a pregnancy still stir up the memories of the physical pain and mental anguish I experienced, so I’ll spare the details on this part. My only hope is that any woman who has to live through such a moment is surrounded with love and support, as I was from my partner.

Within the course of a year, I experienced loss but gained so much more afterward.

I do still think about how I felt when I finally got another positive pregnancy test. Happiness and fear existed in the same space. My fear told me not to get too attached, just in case there was another miscarriage. Happiness told me that it was natural to consider the magic of carrying a child full-term into the world. In October 2017, a beautiful brown baby graced the world and hasn’t slowed down since. Our daughter is one of the most amazing, intelligent, and kind children in the world.

What is true at the same time is that clouds hung over us before we experienced the rainbow. I often think of the personality that forever Baby Everett would have had. What features would this child take on? What would they sound like? What would their name be? Even as I write, I shed tears and think that even in the midst of our blessing, sadness can still slap you in the face.

I think about the well-intentioned yet often short-sighted questions about having more children and just cringe.

It seems like the question hasn’t stopped since shortly after giving birth to my daughter. I am sure that I have been guilty of asking this question and offer my own apologies for it. When people ask the question about women having children at all or having additional children, one of the things that is neglected is the journey.

My husband and I have a personal decision about the number of children we will have, and I respect the personal decisions that people make about having a baby, multiple babies, or no babies at all. Frankly, a sad story shouldn’t be a prerequisite to mind yours, but I do hope that we are collectively a bit more mindful when it comes to other people’s procreation.