SmokeLong Quarterly

1. No.

This should end the conversation, though you might feel like a jerk for not expanding on your answer. It can come across as harsh and rude, and you don’t want to make her uncomfortable. You can soften the blow by adding a lilt to your voice or drawing out the nooooo like you’re disappointed but don’t want to talk about it. Delivery is key if you choose this one-word response.

     2. Ya know, I don’t, but I have the sweetest little dog.

A perfect way to pivot. This keeps the interaction light and cheerful. You can talk about how she’s a 10-year-old rescue with the sweetest sugar face and copper coat. When she asks what type of dog, you tell her the only thing you know for sure is that she’s made of velcro, but she might also be a terrier-dachshund-pinscher-beagle-mix. You both share a laugh and agree that dogs are the best.

     3. Unfortunately, no.

Use this one if you’re feeling a little sorry for yourself and want her to probe. She might just say she’s sorry and leave it alone, but if she takes the bait, you can tell her about what it’s like to walk through the children’s rooms in IKEA with only needles in your belly. There are loads of other triggers you could tell her about too, but go down this road only if you’re feeling vulnerable. You may end up with a cute haircut and puffy eyes.

    4. Well, I’m a teacher, so I have about 150.

This one feels cheesy, but it’s been a consolation over the years. Your students even voted you “School Mom” once. It’s like senior superlatives, teacher edition. They came to your door with the news and a camera and captured the moment your broken heart healed a little. Tell her about how you still have the photo pinned to your board.

    5. We tried, but we couldn’t.

It’s too personal of a response, but you’re tired of strangers asking, and maybe if you say it with exasperation, she’ll realize how personal her question was and finish cutting your long layers in silence. But be careful. This can also invite follow-up questions instead. Like, did you consider adoption? What about a surrogate? At which point, you’ll have to explain that you couldn’t choose between cradling a newborn who needed morphine to manage withdrawals or seeing the outline of your baby’s foot in someone else’s stomach.

    6. That’s none of your business.

You might as well exit the salon with the smock still tied around your neck. She’s just trying to make small talk, and this will definitely offend her, and that’s not what you want to do–especially with scissors in her hand. It’s not her fault you couldn’t have children. Don’t use this response unless you want the world to hurt with you.

    7. Yes, two.

If you already know you’ll never see her again and you want to pretend for an hour that the universe did want you to have children, lying is an option. You’d never do it, but it is sort of fun to think about. You could give her the names you had picked out and describe what you imagine they would have looked like. One has your double-jointed elbows, and the other is dotted with freckles like your husband. But you know lying is not the right answer because just as you begin to describe the book report your fictional daughter has due, you break down.

    8. No, but thanks for asking.

Say this with kindness. This is not meant to be a sarcastic option. Unless, again, you want the world to hurt with you, which is not who you are. You appreciate anyone who takes an interest in your life. You love your life. Yes, you’re sad sometimes, but you also enjoy sleeping in on Saturdays, so thank her for caring, for taking the time to get to know you, and don’t punish her for not thinking about how the stranger in her chair might not have been able to have children. It’s not her fault. It’s a reasonable question.

    9. Not yet!

This one’s for you. You know it’s not going to happen anymore and not just because you’re in your 40s and stopped trying, but because your reproductive organs were devoured by disease. This sort of cheekiness is for those who love to say, “Well, you never know,” when, in fact, you do know because motherhood is a miracle, you’re sure, but it’s also a science. If you do choose this route, though, you’ll be reminded that you used to believe in impossible things.