It’s just one of those days, folks, so here’s a repost from early of 2009, a few short weeks before Nicholas was born:
***
Scene: the circulation desk at the public library. Behind the counter, a young man and a middle-aged woman. In front of it: two very pregnant women, with small children in tow.
A discussion ensues, instigated by Alex (who else?), about babies in mommies’ tummies. We share due dates, smiling and laughing, because our daughters were enthralled by each other only a few minutes ago at the play kitchen set.
It begins when Alex says he thinks we need five babies. (You might notice, BTW, that he’s increased his ideal family size in the last few days. hehehe.) The woman behind the counter says something like, “Or you could have eight at once, like that one woman. It’s just sickening.”
“W-well,” I hedge, knowing these are deep, dangerous waters, and I don’t really want to navigate them, “I’m all about big families, but not like that.”
Snort. “I’m not all about big families. I believe in zero population growth.” Sardonic shrug; then, realizing she’s overstepped the bounds of common courtesy: “But to each his own.”
Well, okay, then.
Do I say, Excuse me, you do realize you’re talking to pregnant women? Like, on the verge of delivery pregnant?
Do I say, children are a blessing, regardless of how they got here, and no, I can’t stand what Nadia Suleman’s doing either, but the children are holy?
Do I say, siblings are a gift to each other?
Do I say, yes, we need to take better care of the earth, but not at the expense of having children, who are quite possibly the best thing that can happen to a person, because they make you grow, and teach you to view the world in a whole new way?
Do I say, So where does my daughter with Down syndrome fit into your “zero population growth”? Does she even get a place in your utopia?
No.
I draw a stunned blank…I smile weakly and say nothing at all. I pinch my lips shut, put the kids’ books in the cloth library bag, and head out the door. And I comfort myself by thinking that I get to teach my kids to value family, and children, and the earth…
…and that nothing I might have said would have made any difference anyway.
Kathleen M. Basi 
After a lot of strong reactions to this post and a couple of hours of mulling this over, I’m settling on this:
There are two sides to every story. (In my line of work, you MUST realize that everyone has their own history that brings them to where they are at the moment you are interacting with him.) With that in mind, I propose the following for consideration:
Maybe on that particular day a child/adolescent had been particularly hateful towards her and she couldn’t let it go, and the comment was a spur-of-the-moment/I-can’t-believe-I-just-said-that-out-loud type of comment that she STILL regrets having let slip.
Maybe years of bitterness over her own infertility have left her resentful of those whose fate is different.
Maybe she suffered through miscarriages and never was able to carry a baby to term.
Maybe her own parents were abusive and she didn’t want to risk perpetuating the cycle and decided not to have children, and this is how she justifies it to the world.
Maybe she never even experienced true love.
Maybe her only child is an ax murderer.
Okay, I realize now I’m getting carried away. I leave this feeling pity for her. Surely she has never known the joy of motherhood.
But then, to each his own.
Maybe so. You are very generous. (Good for you.)