Because

This is my thin skin, and it has no defensive properties. Sunday night, and the family has gathered. My cousin and wife make the announcement - they are expecting. I feel a jolt of joy, of absolute bliss for them. They are a happy partnership of two extroverts; they will be blessed with a child next spring. They say: "It's early, we're only 6 weeks along. Most people don't know they are pregnant at this point..." And finally the hurt is revealed. I shudder. I hold back all the words froth up to my mouth. I smile. I nod. I say: "Before we come out next year, let me know what you still need and we can throw it in the van for you." And I think to myself, how normal we are being. How generous. How calm. Deep breaths. And then someone says it: "Aren't you having more?" And I want to scream, no damn you no and why do you even ask? And my skin falls off my body and I stand there, with all my blood and my anger and my being spilled on the floor. And I say "Bear is happy as an only child." And within moments, my little lie, my little harmless lie that smooths it all over like butter on bread is melted away. The conversation drags slowly, agonizingly, on about babies and growing families and heaven only knows what... And Bear purses his cupid bow mouth and asks "Where is my brother? I need a brother." And I kneel. And I hold him. And I die inside.