People Ask the Same Questions Over and Over Again

When people can tell you are pregnant, they will probably have a reaction. Homeless men may smile and bless you. The person serving you in a restaurant may have some decided opinions about what you should and should not be eating or drinking. Some people may view your belly as fair game for touching or stroking. If someone touches you in a way that makes you uncomfortable, you may take any steps you like to make them stop, including firmly telling them not to touch you, physically blocking them, striking them, yelling at them and soliciting assistance from others. Whatever you’d do if some jerk grabbed your breast or ass is equally legitimate to do in response to other unwanted touching. Many people will ask a short list of questions:

• When are you due? (Early on, this may be preceded by the cautiously asked, "Are you pregnant")
• Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?
• Have you picked out a name/names yet?

Assorted other questions may or may not make the list, depending on whether the person asking actually knows you (how are you feeling is always a good one to hear, especially if it precedes how’s the baby doing). You can get very tired of these questions. I find it’s helpful to view it as just another set of meaningless polite exchanges, much like asking how someone is doing, how their spouse and children are doing, how their job is going and so forth. The answers are not tremendously involved to give and tend not to change greatly from one exchange to the next; nevertheless, they are a component of social glue that helps us all get along. Here are the answers I usually give:

• Early August. If pressed, August 3rd, but I don’t believe in due dates. The baby will come when the baby comes. This last bit heads off the otherwise nearly inevitable commentary the questioner will supply to the same effect. I said it first buddy; try another one. Later in pregnancy, I took to saying but I don't think it'll take that long, in an effort to head off the inevitable, it looks like you could have that baby any day now, and to let people know they should not rely upon me for any social commitments in the coming weeks.
• No. We’re going the midwife route, so we haven’t had an ultrasound. It’s not that we’re opposed to ultrasounds, we just haven’t had a medical reason to have one done yet. If we do have one done, I’ll definitely want to know whether it’s a boy or a girl. This response tends to render people speechless, and in some circumstances I’ll continue. It’s the oddest thing, rather like never having played an arcade video game. It wasn’t intentional at first, but now it’s like being a rebel and kind of cool. Very, very few people can recover from this, and anything I say after this tends to get a nod and occasionally a thoughtful question. As it becomes clear that my approach to the process is not entirely conventional, people have already been prepared and aren’t too surprised.
• Yes. If it’s a boy, Theodore Simon. If it’s a girl, Grace Aliane. Unfortunately, we haven’t figured out about the last name yet. We picked them out early. Roland suggested first names until we agreed. I wanted middle names to reflect my Dutch relatives. I assumed the children would have Roland’s last name, but he’s not sure that’s what we should do. I expect we’ll have to decide eventually. Again, this level of detail tends to kill any further discussion.

In my experience, here and elsewhere, when certain questions come up again and again, it helps to have a stock answer prepared that anticipates any likely follow-ups in sufficient detail to stop the conversation in a timely fashion. If these exchanges are permitted to ramble indefinitely, they can be annoying, if not infuriating. You might give some thought to preparing some stock answers of your own. While your questions may include my questions, you may find you get a particular set of questions that reflects your own circumstances, and prepare accordingly.

Extra Credit, er, Children

When you already have a child (possibly with you, or possibly known to the questioner), you may be asked questions along the lines of, "What have you told your other child about the baby?" or "Does so-and-so understand they're about to become an older brother/sister?"

I'm finding this particular question a lot harder to deal with than the array described above. The assumption embedded in a question like, do you know if it's a boy or a girl, involves whether you've used certain technologies. The assumption in the does-your-other-kid-know question is considerably more complex. I've tried a variety of answers, none of which seem to be particularly satisfying to anyone involved. Yes, we've told him; he doesn't seem to respond. No, we haven't read him any books; he doesn't much like to be read to. No, we haven't enrolled him in any classes. I've also experimented with, I'm sure we're going to be surprised by how our life changes after the new baby arrives; it's hard to imagine we could adequately prepare a toddler.

I did some research on this particular issue. Books and classes are indeed commonly available to soon-to-be-siblings, even toddlers, and they are often recommended in advice online, in books and from other parents. Yet these same sources invariably warn me to expect regression (potty trained kids start demanding diapers; kids happy with a cup demand bottles) and aggression (directed at parents who are distracted and/or exhausted or at the new baby). And of course, jealousy. I don't understand what the purpose of the books or classes could possibly be, given that at least my toddler has no particular grasp of the future in terms of a few hours from now, much less weeks or months away. He may or may not be able to make sense of words about his feelings. While he has always been quite empathetic, trying to cheer me up when I am mad or sad, he has never shown any indication that he understands words about anyone else's feelings. The idea of conveying to him the feelings of an as-yet-unborn third party is not just daunting; it is risible.

Finally, my husband (and father of my children) says that while he was 8 or 9 years old when his youngest sibling was born, he was basically completely oblivious to the pregnancy and imminent arrival of a new family member right up until his younger brother arrived home from the hospital with his parents. He has no reason to believe his mother concealed anything intentionally; he just didn't notice. Expecting anything more advanced from a just-turned-3-year-old seems loopy.

If you decide to prepare your child for the new family member (and we have told our son repeatedly what's about to happen and brought him to prenatals and so forth), keep your expectations low. They may not understand, even if they can repeat things back to you in words quite intelligently. Even if they do understand, this is a trying situation all around (surely you remember what it was like living with a newborn! Or wait, you decided to have another, so maybe not). It is not fair to expect any kind of advanced emotional control or equilibrium from a child when confronted with the chaos of a newborn in the home -- even if you have the kid take a class and they express themselves with puppets, dolls and coloring books.

Copyright 2005 by Rebecca Allen

Created May 20, 2005
Updated August 31, 2008