Pants On Fire

I have been lying to most of my family for a few months.  Well, my entire family, in-laws included, with the exception of two people.  I really do not like to lie.  I hate lying.  Lying totally stresses me out.  I feel like the truth is nipping at my heels, just waiting to catch up to me and bite me in the butt.

I am lying to save my sanity.

I think that nearly every person in my family asks me regularly when my husband and I are going to have another baby.  Yes, our daughter will be four next month, yes I am thirty-six and have a limited amount of fertile years left, yes our kids will be far apart in age, I know, I know, I know.

So when each one of these buttinsky family members brings up the subject, I look them directly in the face and lie.  I tell them that “I don’t know when.”  I think I am getting pretty good at this lying thing.  I think every one truly believes me.

The truth is, we are trying.  We have been for a few months now.  I learned the hard way the first time around and decided I needed to lie this time for my mental health.  It took two years of fertility drugs to get pregnant with our daughter.  I couldn’t answer a phone call without hearing “Are you pregnant yet?”  It completely stressed me out last time.  I constantly felt like a failure and like I was disappointing our family.  It got to the point that I dreaded even speaking to anyone on the phone.

So I will continue to lie to all but a few close family members, a couple of close friends and whoever reads my blog or follows me on Twitter.  I will continue to belt out big fat lies to all who ask.  And darn it, I won’t feel guilty about it. 

When I get pregnant, my family will forgive me.