Your mom and I had a booth at a fair recently. You know, the kind of fair with all these creative makers that work two jobs trying to make their dreams come true. The kind that we love, because it's so good to talk to other small business owners about triumphs and challenges.
This particular fair was a little slow, and by lunchtime I had already decided it was going to be our last one for a while. The toilets must have been slow that day too, because the duo of bathroom attendants took it upon themselves to walk around the fair and entertain us. One of them came by for a chat. Mind you, they were a kind of gimmick, dressed up characters pretending to be over-the-top bathroom attendants. Think big blonde wig with sparkly sunglasses stuck in them, red lips and bright blue eye-shadow, leopard tights, lots of cleavage. The both of them had adopted what was meant to be a working class accent.
I gotta be honest with you darling, people in character put me off a little bit. I don't find it charming or entertaining, I just wanna ignore the whole spectacle. Easier said than done when the spectacle is talking to you. So I went along with the lady in front of our stall, because it would have been rude not to talk to her. She was asking questions about our products, which we always love to answer. Getting the word out there is vital for our business, and giving people context has been one of the advantages of attending fairs. We had a short conversation about how she figured that homosexuality was long accepted, and she didn't really get the need for 'special' products. That's fine, to each their own of course.
Then she kindly congratulated us with you. My tummy is getting harder to ignore, little bean! We thanked her, thinking she would be walking over to the next stand now. Instead, quite out of the blue, she asked if we had used a donor to conceive. "Well, yeah" I replied, "We have an abundance of wombs but we do lack the other stuff." "But had we used a known donor, or an unknown one?", was her next question. I was a little taken aback, and glancing at your mom I could tell she felt the same. Why would she want to know more about how you were conceived? "We found the way that worked best for us as a family," I told her. "But what worked for you as a family?" she persisted, "A known donor, or an unknown one?"
That was the first time I felt the need to protect your privacy, baby. As your mom, why would I need to tell this random woman more about our family? Why did it matter to her if there was a known donor somewhere in the picture or not? Your mom and I have always been really open about how we conceived you, with our friends and acquaintances. If anyone from work asks me questions, I'm more than happy to fill them in. Heck, I even encourage our friends and loved ones to ask anything they'd like to know. Because I am proud of your mom and of you, and I love how we are shaping our family together. Because these people will also get to know you, in the future. The difference is that the people who've asked questions are a part of my life, however big or small. This lady was not, nor would she ever be. So I told her that her question was a bit too personal.
After that, the conversation wrapped up pretty quickly. She mentioned that she had many more questions, but they were probably too personal too. Your mom and I just smiled and waited for her to go about her way. After she had left to spray someone with air freshener, the two of us discussed what had happened. We both felt bad at first, for cutting her off and not sharing more. But then we decided that we got to decide how far we let people into our lives. Just like one day you will get to decide what you want to share with others.
So little baby of mine, please know that it's okay not to share your story with everyone that asks. If you're uncomfortable, or you just don't wanna, you don't have to. You're never obliged to tell someone anything about yourself. You were made with love, and we cannot wait to welcome you into our arms and the world. That's all anyone needs to know.