Is that your only child?” asked the middle-aged cashier.
“Yes,” I responded. My husband stood nearby.
“You’re smart,” she smiled, nodding in approval.
She assumed what my fertility intentions were by just looking at my family, and she got it entirely wrong. We had been wanting another child for two years and just suffered a miscarriage.
I wish I could say that her comment was an isolated event, but it wasn’t. Everyone has had an opinion about our fertility.
“You should give your child a sibling,” chided some, as though I didn’t long for that myself.
“When are you going to have another?” asked others impatiently. I wish I had known myself.
Unfortunately, Catholic gatherings were not immune. either.
“Your daughter’s already 2,” I was once told. “I guess you don’t want to have any more kids.”
I felt like I didn’t belong. In a room full of Catholics who were pregnant and had several kids in tow, I was sorely reminded of what I desired. Being questioned by those same people hurt.
I’ve found it grating to navigate the social reactions toward my fertility. But, only recently, did I stop to consider why this is the case.
Marriage is a sacrament. That means it has form and matter. The form of a sacrament consists of the specific words that are used in the liturgy. In marriage, that’s the wedding vows. The matter is the physical action that demonstrates the words of the sacrament in a real, efficacious way. The matter of marriage is sex.
Marriage is the only sacrament in which two lay people, the bride and groom, are the ministers. They say the vows to each other in front of witnesses in public. They access the graces of the sacrament privately through sex in a state of grace.
Marriage is not holy despite of sex; it’s holy because of it. It’s as sacred as a priest consecrating the bread and wine and as private as the seal of confession. That’s why Catholics are against sex before marriage and contraception. It’s not because the Church is antiquated and mean. It’s because sex is the place where married couples most have the ability to take on the image and likeness of God.
Yet, our world doesn’t respect intimacy. Many may not watch porn, but elements of it are commonly found in movies, TV, books and more. This violation of privacy trickles over to marriage. A husband and wife’s sacred space is treated like an open forum for commentary and criticism.
My family looks different since that experience in the grocery store. We are grateful to have welcomed another baby and to be currently pregnant. Perhaps comments of another sort will start sooner or later. I’ve heard many express pain over announcing a pregnancy and hearing, “Another one?” or “Don’t you know how these things happen?”
I pray that God always reminds me that any comment that violates the sacrament’s dignity and privacy is not worth speaking to.
Megan Lacourrege is a wife and mother who resides in Slidell. She is native of St. Bernard and graduated from Tulane University with a double-major in English and musical theater. She is also the author of the children’s book “My Sibling Still,” for children who have lost a sibling to miscarriage, stillbirth or infant death. She aims to provide resources to bereaved parents and siblings on her website www.mysiblingstill.com.