My older sister and I were conceived via IVF after years of our parents trying without success. Now that we’re adults, we’ve both moved, so she now lives several states north of me.

She called me to invite me to fly up and stay for a few days so I could be part of her New Year’s Eve party.

Me: “Thanks for the invite, but I’m going to pass. It’s just too cold up there in December for me.”

Sister: “This coming from the woman who spent the first two years of her life living in a freezer?”

My husband and I are expecting our second child. We are waiting until birth to find out baby’s sex. I’m thrifty and am trying to find some of the baby items we want secondhand. I find some really good deals and am sharing my excitement with my mother-in-law. 

Me: “I ended up finding someone just giving away the baby carrier I was looking for and two of the swaddles for under $10 total at a consignment store.”

Mother-In-Law: “Nice. Are they a gender-neutral color?”

Me: “The carrier’s an Oxford blue and the swaddles are a baby blue.”

She makes a tutting sound. 

Me: “What?”

Mother-In-Law: “What are you going to do if you have a girl?”

Me: “What do you mean? I’m going to use them.”

Mother-In-Law: “Blue is a boy’s color. You can’t use those if you have a girl.”

Me: “I don’t care if they were all pink and we had a boy. I’d still use them. The carrier was free and the swaddles were 85% off the cost they normally are. It’s just a color. Baby won’t care.”

Mother-In-Law: *Looking annoyed* “You need a gender-neutral color, instead.”

Me: “Tell you what. If we have a girl, you are more than welcome to spend the $150 dollars to buy everything in the color you deem fit.”

She dropped it after that and I stopped sharing information with her.

I didn’t have a car when I left for college, so I wasn’t able to travel back to visit my family except when my father came to pick me up for special holidays. Thus, on Thanksgiving, I was looking forward to finally seeing my family again.

When my sister and her family arrived, I was a little surprised to see that my sister was, well, slightly fat. She wasn’t huge, but compared to her usually quite skinny build, it still was noticeable enough to stand out. Not knowing what to do, I pretended not to notice anything and went along with family activities until I managed to corner my mother alone a few hours later.

Me: “Hey, Mom, is there anything interesting about [Sister] you needed to share?”

Mom: “Huh? No, I don’t think so. Why?”

I struggled with how to phrase this delicately.

Me: “Well, she just looked a bit different than usual.”

Mom: “What do you mean?”

Me: “She put on a little weight.”

Mom: “Yeah, but that’s pretty normal when you’re pregnant.”

Me: “I’m pretty sure that counts as something interesting that needs to be shared!”

Mom: “Huh? You knew she was pregnant.”

Me: “No, I didn’t! I’ve been sitting here trying to figure out whether or not she was for the last three hours! I mean, she sort of looks pregnant, but I figured there is no way no one would have told me this long if she was.”

Mom: “We really never told you? Oh, I’m sorry!”

My mother was quite apologetic about their failure to notify me of that little detail. In fact, now, half a lifetime later, my mother still gives every piece of news she shares with me a joking caveat: “Sorry if you’re the last to know.”

I’m volunteering at my church’s Vacation Bible Camp during the summer, leading the first-grade group. This mostly involves wrangling wriggly children and preventing them from knocking down intricate butcher paper decorations.

At one point, we have to wait outside one station while the previous class is finishing up. To keep the kids occupied, I start asking them about their plans for the fall. One kid pipes up.

Student: “What grade are you going to be in?”

Me: “I’m actually out of school.”

Student: “So, what are you doing in the fall?”

Me: “Well, I’m engaged, so I’ll be getting married this fall.”

Student: “Oh, so, you’re pregnant.”

Luckily, none of the other teachers in this very traditional church setting were around to hear, and I quickly corrected him, but I had to wonder what order these things typically happened in his family for a six-year-old to reach that conclusion!

My friend was trying to conceive using donor sperm shipped to them. Their adoptive son saw the container arrive and asked his mother what it was.

Friend: “You know how we plant seeds to make plants grow? These are sort of like baby seeds. They go into me and, hopefully, they will make a baby start growing!”

Her son seemed content with this; he already knew they were trying for another child. A few weeks later, my friend was on Facebook when she saw a post from her son’s pregnant teacher.

Teacher: “The things you hear as a teacher. Today, I had a kid ask me if I was pregnant because my husband planted baby seeds in me.”

Realizing that had to have been her son, my friend wrote back apologizing and explaining the context of her son’s question. The teacher just wished her good luck with growing her baby seeds.