Open to Question

Early last year, I called my mom to tell her I was going to be out of the country with the other half on a month's vacation and work.

Instead of reminding me to bring home souvenirs like most people would, she paused before carefully saying: "It's good that the two of you are going away on holiday.

Now when you return, it will be a good time to start the program."

I knew what she was hinting at, but feigned ignorance: "And what program is that, Mama?"

"You know, you two should start thinking about having a child."

I am by now accustomed to the fact that all our conversations will eventually lead to this topic. The issue at stake is that at 34 and I am not getting any younger, a fact that I never deny.

She is getting increasingly concerned about our seeming indifference to the idea of having a child after two years of marriage.

What rankles me is how it erodes the quality of my conversation with her, or at least disrupts its flow.

Exhibit A:

Me: "Mom, hubby got a promotion at work."

Mom: "Oh, good, now you two can really afford to have a child."

Exhibit B:

Me: "Mom, I am really into yoga now, I do it four times a week."

Mom: "Wouldn't that make you too tired at night for hubby?"

Most of the time I try to keep my responses light-hearted, pointing at the fact that my parents already have 10 grandchildren, including one who was born last July, from my three siblings.

Still, I always make it clear to her that when or whether or not we decide to have a child will be a decision made entirely by the two of us, not because everyone thinks it is time for us to do so.

Frankly, it doesn't bother me so much that the question comes from her. After all it is what mothers do -- nagging their children about giving them grandchildren.

More bothersome are those "well-intentioned" relatives and acquaintances who treat the state of your uterus as a subject for small talk.

Family gatherings have become a dreadful event.

There was a time when aunties and cousins still had the courtesy of enquiring how I was doing before spouting the stock question: "Sudah isi belum?" (Are you carrying yet?)

And when I said not yet, they would follow up with: "What are you waiting for?"

Lately they have grown bolder; some skip all formality.

When I visited an ailing uncle at the hospital recently, his 28-year old daughter -- a resident physician, a specialist medical student and a mother of a very rambunctious two year old-- grilled me in front of other relatives: "Sister, is it true you are not planning to have a child?"

Speechless, I looked at her in disbelief, not sure of the intention behind this rather rude question.

I could sense a slight contempt in her tone of voice. It was as if she was chastising me for betraying the entire female species by not taking the path of pursuing both a career and family at the same time.

"Uh, yes, umm, no - I'm not sure," was the only response I could summon.

Realizing that she might have sounded judgmental, she attempted a bit of damage control: "Well, I'm just asking because my husband is a gynecologist - if you want, he can check on you."

I was tempted to retort: Is nothing personal to you people?

I felt like shooting back another question at her and the others: Why is it so hard to accept that maybe procreation is not the exclusive reason why two people get married?

And why is it so hard to imagine that maybe the other half and I are perfectly happy the way we are?

But then I realized that would be an overreaction.

The reality is we live in a culture where such queries are seen as gestures of friendliness, even affection.

It does not matter that asking such questions, which may be seen as personal in a different cultural set-up, can put people like me on the spot.

Those aunties, cousins, co-workers, even friends see it as harmless, and maybe it is to them.

But how can it be purely benign curiosity when it creates so many awkward moments, so many "uhms" and "uhs" in the replies, and so many flaccid smiles or even defensive responses?

Some of my single friends have quit going to wedding receptions of their relatives to avoid trite questions like: "When are you going to follow suit?"

Before you get hitched, people want to know when you are going to. After you are married, you have to tell them when you are going to bear a child, or why you are not.

But the cycle of intrusive questions does not end there.

A colleague of mine, a 50 something man with college-age kids, says: "Some of my friends have begun to ask me when I'm going to marry off my children."

Funnily enough, another friend noted, no one ever asks an elderly mourner at a funeral when he or she is going to follow suit.

I may be hardly affected by the repeated queries of our childless status, but I suspect that some people are a little more than just annoyed by this social pressure.

My heart goes for those who really try to have children and have not succeeded. To have people casually - and unintentionally -- reminding you of your "failure" all the time could be another source of anxiety to them.

There may be a way out, however.

After you pass a certain age, people stop asking intrusive questions. In fact, they make a point of not mentioning the subject, as it can become painfully embarrassing.

Some of my male and female friends who are over 40 and unmarried should be rejoicing in this, but it's not the case.

In place of those prying questions, they are confronted by an atmosphere of hyper vigilance, of people treating them with kid gloves.

"It's like the subject of marriage is suddenly taboo to bring up around me," says one of my friends. "I don't know which is worse - the hounding questions or the silence."

Frankly, I wouldn't mind being left alone at this point.

+ Sarasvati

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