Annual friends and family holidy party. I’m there. Mr. Nom’s there. Toddler Nom is there. So is my brother’s close friend, but we’re not close ourselves.

“Toddler Nom’s so big! He’s what now... 3?”

“Yeah, he’s really growing like a weed.”

“Are you going to have more?”

“We’ll see.”

“You don’t want any more?”

“We’re open to it.”

“Is that it, just the one?”

*shrug* “Maybe.”

“You should have another one.”

*grits teeth* “We’ll see.”

What, do these people want? Why can’t they just take a hint? If you want to make conversation, make conversation. Don’t keep pestering me about my family planning.

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You want me to fuck my husband right there, in the middle of the party? Pull out an ovulation table and double-check the days with you? Do you think I’m pregnant and just playing coy? WHAT DO YOU WANT?!

Because I sure as shit know that what you absolutely are not prepared to hear is the truth. But go ahead, I triple dog dare you to ask me one more version of the same question b/c at this point, I’m ready to burn this down with a nice, calm, “I’ve had two miscarriages in 20 months. Yes, it’s been devastating. For Mr. Nom, too. But thanks for needling me about it over cheese and crackers. It’s a real relief to get it off my chest. In the middle of a party. To you.

Thanks for listening, GT (I feel better now! Until the next time!) and please do feel free to vent or pre-vent (I know some of you are already girding your loins for the awkward and judgy questions about your love life, reproductive choices, etc.)