Keep Your Hands & Questions to Yourself

Suggested listening: Georgia Satellites’ “Keep Your Hands to Yourself

“Are you pregnant?”

The question came during the wake for my then-husband’s grandfather, a kind, generous retired state trooper who recently lost his beloved wife and who asked us often if we’d used the rice cooker he got us as a wedding gift (yup, still using it, Grandpa).

The question came from Polly, one of his many widowed neighbors and church mates who often dropped by with homemade meals for Grandpa, giving him the family-bestowed title of Tilly Swamp’s Most Eligible Bachelor. 

The hand reaching to pat my tummy to check its status also came from Polly.

The question came because, I suppose, of my empire-waist dress. For those of you not raised on a diet of What Not to Wear and Project Runway, that style fits snug until just below the bust and has a loose body-skimming skirt that apparently flows freely enough to leave room for a passenger.

The momentary stunned silence came from me, a newly minted 24-year-old who was not even ready for that question, much less an actual baby.

“Uhhh, no, ma’m?”

Polly chuckled, hand changing course from my tummy to my cheek, and gave me some grandmotherly face slaps as she whisper-asked, “Do you want to be?”

It’s important to note here that in retelling this story over the years, multiple people have asked, “Was...was that old lady going to impregnate you?” 

And the answer is, at least she would have been keeping her affections in the family, I guess.

The Orphan’s Guide to Funerals: Keep your hands and your fertility questions to yourself.