"Did you plan to have another one so soon?" the woman asked me.
"Oh, no," I said, laughing. "Jude was a big surprise. He was our 'oops' baby!"
And we both laughed.
Later that evening, Matt told me that what I had said bothered him.
"Jude wasn't an accident," he said.
"I know that," I said.
"Well, when you say that Jude was a 'surprise' or an 'oops baby', that's what you're implying."
He had a point. The truth was, I had been embarrassed. I felt like I had to apologize for my fertile womb because people–even complete strangers!–often made ignorant, unkind comments.
I'd been asked how long I was going to "breed like a rabbit," if I was from Utah, if I was going to throw away my life in order to be "just" a mom and why I would "waste" my college education.
When I was in my early twenties, I was a sensitive, fearful, first-time mom. And I took those silly, ignorant comments personally. I felt attacked.
Crazily enough, people rarely treated my husband with the same disrespect. In fact, whenever he was out in public with our children, strangers would coo over the babies and praise him for being a good, involved father.
The automatic assumption was that because he was carrying a child he was a good father. Which he was, of course. It's just that when I was out in public with more than two children, I got asked if I knew how to use birth control.
But that stuff doesn't bother me anymore. Maybe it's because I've grown up a little and don't crave the affirmation of other people as much?
Besides, if I had waited until I was "financially secure" and had achieved all my personal and professional goals, I wouldn't have these FIVE beautiful, amazing people in my life! Now THAT would be tragic.
I don't have any "oops babies." They're all precious, they're all wanted.
I don't apologize anymore.


