My child is two and a half now, and although I’ve been getting this question since he was about one, it’s gotten more frequent, the older he gets:

“Any plans for number two yet?” or worse still “When’s number two then?”

Firstly, let me explain why I think this is a feminist issue, rather than just a “you’re being bloody rude” issue.

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I think part of it has to do with women’s bodies being considered “public property” and another part is to do with child care and child rearing seen as purely a woman’s role, and whether or not to have children is seen as something the woman in a het relationship decides.

The first part, the “public property” thing, is particularly noticeable in pregnancy with the bump groping. I am one of the few women I know who didn’t mind people touching my bump (although only if they asked first, and sometimes they didn’t) when I was pregnant; but I was also in a relationship without much physical affection at the time, so I was “taking it where I could get it”. But on the whole, most of my Mum friends have told me how they didn’t enjoy it, and that they only said “yes” (if they were asked) because of a feeling of obligation.

I think the part of “when’s number two?” that stems from that is the feeling that it isn’t your body any more; if you’ve had a baby, there’s almost a part of you that’s seen as an incubation chamber, and it’s everyone else’s business what that body’s going to do next.

Don’t get me wrong, I am personally incredibly proud of being a mother and I think I do a damn good job of it. For me, personally, it is my main job and the biggest part of me. But that involves a hell of a lot more than “getting pregnant and giving birth”. That’s just the very first stage. Even if we’re just talking about what my body does when it comes to being a mother; it nurses my child, it picks him up, it carries him around, it plays with him, it gets down on the floor and lets him ride on its back… and more. For me personally (but not for every mother) I’ve given over a lot of my body to childcare, the majority, even. But that’s a lot more than pregnancy, and I resent being thought of as a vessel to carry babies. Because, even though that’s part of it, it’s a very small part. And it’s not public property; it’s my property, and who I use it for, and how, is none of your business.

And if that’s me, whose identity is primarily tied up with being a mother, how much more would someone who’d given birth to a child, but whose identity was more tied up in things outside of “mothering” feel?

The other thing, the “women=destined to have children” starts before the second child, of course. I remember when I got married to my (now ex) husband; people asked me when I was going to have children. Notice they asked me, not him.

It continues through employers asking “are you planning to have children” in job interviews, even though they’re not allowed to. I also think this attitude is partly responsible for some of the child-hate within the feminist and child-free movements (and oh yes, it does exist). A bit like, “if I go on about how much I hate children, my employer will never mistake me for being one of those people who ‘goes off and has a kid and doesn’t come back after mat leave’ and therefore I will get promoted”, and so on. Or just wanting to disassociate with the whole “woman=carer of children” meme by trying to prove how much that isn’t them because they hate children.

But when people ask about number two, they already have something to go on. Obviously, you don’t hate children, because after all, you had one. And because you like children, you must want more than one, surely? And if you do, why aren’t you doing your womanly duty and “getting yourself pregnant” again?

So yeah, feminist issue. (And, yes, it is also a “bloody rude” issue, too!)

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And there are so many reasons why it’s wrong to ask. And why, sometimes, it really, really hurts.

See, for me, personally, it stings to be asked that, especially at the moment. Because I would love to have more children. I always wanted to have three or four children, actually. But when I had my first, and currently only child, it was hard. Things between me and my then-husband turned sour as soon as my bump appeared and didn’t get any better. But even then, right up until I left him, I still planned to have a second child with him.

Some of you might think that was foolish, that plan; but if anything, it was less foolish than having my first child with him. I knew what he was like, and I knew I’d get little to no support from him, and a lot of grief.  I planned to do things differently; I would create my own support network from friends and on the internet. I wouldn’t have the heartbreak of turning to him in my time of need and being pushed away, because I’d know not to turn to him in the first place.

And if we’d stayed together, it would have been now that we would have been trying. If we’d stayed together, I might be typing a very different post now, one about early pregnancy.

But we didn’t. And much as I don’t miss our relationship, and I am better off emotionally without him, I still grieve that second child that I won’t have, certainly not for a long time, if at all. I try not to think about it too much, but asking that question forces me to think about it, and it hurts.

I’m in a long distance relationship with a woman now; she can’t move over here for at least two years, and even when she does, we’ll not be able to think about having a baby for a while, for reasons of money, studying, career and so on. And when we finally can, it’s a more complicated thing for two woman to have a baby together. Plus I’ll be older, and less fertile (and that’s assuming I’m even fertile now; I could well have secondary infertility and not be aware of it); who knows if I’ll even have another? I want to, and my fiancée wants it too, but wanting isn’t always enough.

And it’s worth it; my fiancée is an amazing woman and I don’t regret leaving my husband for her for a minute. I wouldn’t swap her for a brood of children. But that doesn’t mean I don’t grieve the situation regarding a second child.

So also, by asking that question, you’re asking me to come out to you as queer/bi; you also ask me to justify my decision to leave my husband, even to explain some of the emotionally upsetting things that happened in our relationship.

And that’s just me. There are many, many other reasons why someone who gave birth once, might not either want, or be able to have, another child. It’s incredibly personal, and can be incredibly hurtful.

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And it’s none of your business. It’s my body, it’s my life, and it’s my choice, limited by circumstances though that choice is.

And if you really must ask that question? At least, take “it’s complicated,” or “I’d rather not discuss it” for an answer!

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