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.