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Where's Number Three


A neighbor in her mid-thirties.
A woman in her seventies.
Their single commonality?
They both asked me: Where's number three?

I have a son, his name Charlie
And then McKay, he's not quite three
In my heart, both fit perfectly
Yet others ask: Where's number three?

Perhaps it's that I miscarried,
My spouse's infidelity,
The ache of infertility,
A battle raging mentally,

Illness on a crippling spree,
Our family is complete, maybe.
The reason's one or more of these,
Yet you dare ask: Where's number three?

In this question, running free
Are judgements, jeering icily
"You're not enough, Mik, can't you see?
Buck up and give us number three!"

I used to flounder, squirm, agree
Or curl up small, cry, and plead.
With time, I've seen things differently.
I won't explain for number three.

The questions of maternity
Are just between my spouse and me
And Parents, guiding Heavenly
So please don't ask: Where's number three?



Artwork Credit: Beth Boren, my sister–in–law


The story behind the poem: Over the past 18 months, I have had eleven individuals question my family size. Their statements range from "You only have two kids? I think you need to have more kids" to "I can't help thinking you're going to announce baby number three soon" to, most brazen, "Why aren't you pregnant right now?" 

My poem answers how I felt about their inquiries. 

I'm not alone in feeling like my life is under an appraising cultural microscope. I have a family member who is constantly asked why he isn't married. A dear friend of mine is questioned for her decision to homeschool. Another has been belittled for her decision to enroll her children in daycare while she goes to work to provide for her family. 

My reason for this poem is in hopes that we can be a little more gentle with each other, especially as Christians. Everyone around us is a child of God, and I believe most people are trying their very best. Instead of prying into personal life circumstances as conversation starters, I hope we'll instead seek to understand and love each other more deeply. Perhaps, instead, we can ask "What do you love most about your kids?" or "What book has changed your life, and why?" or "I know you love art, could you show me some of your recent work?" 

Let's leave the judgement to God and choose, instead, to love one another. 

Much love,
MJ


“A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another; as I have loved you. … By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another”
(John 13:34-35)






Comments

  1. Katie GronemanJune 13, 2022 at 12:15 PM

    This reminded me of my first pregnancy - I had only told one or two teacher friends, but no other coworkers (waiting for that first trimester to be over). I miscarried at 11 weeks, but still went in to school the day after I started bleeding for a teacher work day I felt I couldn't miss. One of my male coworkers noted that two others in the group were pregnant and said, "Why aren't you pregnant?!" Yeah... pretty sure my face went white as a sheet, but I laughed it off. That was a bad day for pregnancy jokes... pretty much all days are bad days for pregnancy jokes really.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Mikayla JohnsonJune 16, 2022 at 9:43 PM

      Kate, thanks so much for sharing this personal anecdote. Firstly, I'm so sorry you miscarried, that is a tragedy that no mother should have to face, yet so many mothers do. I ache that you are among them. Second, you are so right—pretty much all days are bad days for pregnancy jokes. That particular jab with that particular timing must have been so painful.

      Delete
  2. J H PettitJuly 11, 2022 at 8:18 PM

    Amen!

    ReplyDelete
  3. J H PettitJuly 11, 2022 at 8:19 PM

    P.S. I love, love, LOVE that piece of artwork of your family!

    ReplyDelete

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