No, I don't want to hold your baby.

I don't hold other people's babies. I made this conscious decision that day that I got engaged. My struggle with whether to have children now or not is no one else's business. The mere act of cradling your little miracle in my arms means that you want to know when I will be doing the same. That stopped being your business when... Oh wait! It was never your business. It's like my own personal version of uninvited guests patting my baby bump. Stay away from my impregnated thought tummy! I have no proof that you washed your hands recently.

Also, your baby becomes infinitely less cute when it spits up all over me. I didn't get to enjoy the creation of the little booger eater, so I don't have to clean up his or her vomit. I'm also sure that that will be the day that my hair looks cute, and I don't need teeny tiny cracker-covered fingers pulling on it. 

Okay, I'm not that heartless no matter how hard I try. And you're right, I may actually even want to hold your baby. I'm just all for avoiding awkward situations that I see coming. The possibility of an awkward situation registers as a big stop sign of social interaction. I'm not a good liar. So, when I hold your baby, and you ask me when I want to have one of my own, I have to lie to you to avoid getting your input. If I say, "Well, we're considering it," you follow up with a two hour story about how you were so excited to get pregnant and you knew the second that this little one was conceived that he or she would be totally perfect in every way. 

1) I don't need the mental image of you and your husband/boyfriend/fling/whatever in the act of creation. Even with all of the dirty jokes that I make, I stop at the act of actually considering your private time. 

2) It really isn't any of your business. I know you're trying to help and be supportive, but you're not the one that starts getting fat the second that the universe decides that it's time. You're not the one who is already stock piling anxiety about how and when to let people know. And, let's be honest, I don't want you picturing me doing whatever I just pictured you doing. Ew. 

Instead, I respond with "No babies. Just puppies." It's not really a lie. It's just an omission of the possible future. Luckily, I doubt you're a soothsayer or mind reader, so I think I'm in the clear with that one. Rather than subject myself to that awkward and unrequested conversation, I steer clear of infantile human life forms. 

For the time being, at least.