‘Why don’t you have children?’

Please don’t ask that question of people.

Sometimes the question is asked by a child and the accompanying adult looks mischievous, like they think their offspring is being cute and impish. That look tends to mean to me that they are curious too.

I don’t care how curious you are. Please don’t ask.

Somedays, I might say it is from choice. Other days, that it never happened for me. Another day, the time was never right. There are other reasons I might give too.

These explanations might vary day to day, but they are all true. The response will depend on which is most prevalent in my mind at the time. Mostly, I am speechless and genuinely struggle to know what to say. I don’t really have an answer for why I don’t have children.

But I should never have to give an answer to that question.

No matter how close a friend or family member you are, no matter how much I love you and respect you, it is not ok to put me on the spot and ask such a personal question.

It is OK to let me bring it up if I wish to talk about it with you. It’s ok to then say you don’t know what to say. It’s even ok to admit you’ve wondered and wanted to ask. I will thank you for not putting me in the position of facing that question on the spot when I might not have been prepared for it or in the state to answer it.

Very rarely will I say my hips are the reason. If I give that explanation, I’m lying and it’s because it was the easiest answer to give as I wasn’t comfortable talking about it.

Because, the truth is, I always assumed I would have children and now I know I won’t have them. I also know that’s the right thing for me now. But I don’t want to answer your questions and I should not be put in the position of facing them because you are curious.

So please do not ask people why they do not have children.

It’s not always the hip replacement…

A refreshingly calm and well organised annual hip appointment took place this week. My surgeon kindly allowed me to describe my various symptoms but assured me that the x-rays show no change and, more importantly, the hips look stable.

What had preceded this was the usual months of anticipation because of changes and worsening of symptoms and general trepidation of what this might mean. I am always aware of the age of my hips, rightie is 20.5 yrs old and leftie the 3rd (a revision hip replacement) is 5. In my mind, I’m very conscious that these hips will be loosening and wearing out. I realise now that I’ve been viewing these as ticking bombs almost.

The consultant believes my symptoms are due to problems with muscles and tendons. This is hardly surprising given how much my hips have been through, combined with changes in hormones of a woman in her 40s. It all plays a part.

This is good news in that my replacements are solid but physio awaits. Never good in my book! Hopefully I can get things back on track without invasive interventions in the future.

The difference since this appointment is huge. I have continued to have the pains in my thigh and side of hip, I’m stiff on moving and tiring easily. However, knowing the hips are not loose has changed how I feel about it. I’m not panicking. I’m not catastrophising, as a psychologist would describe my previous responses.

I’ve always maintained that understanding what is happening, having explanations, helps me to manage the symptoms better. I feel this is proving it.

At the same time, I am reminded of a physio I saw aged 23, after the first replacements were done. She told me I hadn’t fully accepted into myself my hips. I have always been able to understand her reason for saying it but I think the phrasing was so off putting I dismissed the meaning more than I should. But I’ve always remembered it and there have been times it has come to mind. This week is one of those. Perhaps if I embraced my new hips more and trusted them, instead of fearing what might go wrong or when they will need revising, I might not be so inclined to catastrophise.

It’s only taken 20+ yrs to realise this…