"IVF or natural?"

When I tell people that I'm having twins, a quick yet probing question about fertility drugs is often the first thing that people offer. Before "Congratulations!" they want to get down to the nitty-gritty.

People who I would never talk to about my sex life want to know how my husband and I conceived our children. I have no idea how they conceived their own children, but they really want -- and think they need -- to know how we did it.

When we found out we were having twins, I worried about having to deal with this. We had jumped through so many hurdles -- tests, doctor's visits, needles, disappointment after disappointment -- that I just wanted to be pregnant and move past all the bad stuff. I had already been through enough without fielding questions from uterine spectators.

I have never asked another pregnant woman how many times she had sex, in what positions or, worse, how many needles she had to stick in her belly before her eggs were ready to be sperminated.

"Was it one crazy night with a bottle of liquor?" or "How many months did it take?" No, that's not my style and not my business.

But etiquette seems to have changed. Fertility treatments are prevalent, and women are more open about them, which is great. We can help other women find the courage to pursue their options or fight those feelings of inadequacy when they don't get it on the first try like so many "fertile Myrtles."

However, being open with other infertile women is not the same as being open with the cashier at the maternity clothing story who wants to know how "natural" my babies were as she rings up my overpriced empire-waistline tops.

I am very grateful for the women who had been through it all and were generous enough to lend me information and support. But I found them online, under screen names, not on the street handing out pamphlets about their first artificial insemination. As open as women are, infertility is still very private.

That shouldn't surprise anyone, even the people who love "John and Kate Plus 8" on Discovery. It's nobody's business that for some unknown reason the old-fashioned way didn't cut it for us. Even though multiple births are more common due to fertility treatments, there are still many women who have twins without medical intervention. Twins are not some freak show.

Luckily, twins do run in my family, which is another thing people want to know when they hear twins. Perhaps I'm too defensive, but I take that as a screening question to determine if my pregnancy really is "natural." If twins don't run in my family, then the interviewer can move on to, "So what did you have to do?"

As I told her my news, a woman at work smiled as she said, "So was this fertility drugs or ..." before I cut her off with, "My grandmother was a twin." Later in the day she came over to me to find out if my grandmother was fraternal or identical, and then launched into a debate about the number of amniotic sacs and placentas twins can have. (Identical twins come from one egg but can share one amniotic sac and placenta or be in separate sacs with one to two placentas.)

I'm no expert on fertility treatments or twins. I know much more than I would have had I never gone through it, but I'm not a doctor, no matter how many books I read.

So what is my responsibility when it comes to taking questions about how these babies came to be? From what I gather, it's not going to stop after they are born, so I need to figure out where I stand.

"Are they natural?" people will ask as they size up my twinfants. I long for some snarky comeback about how they are actual robots, like that cute Vicky in the red gingham dress on that 1980s sitcom "Small Wonder."

"We ordered them from a catalog, actually. Aren't they cute?"

But I try not to be nasty or negative, and I hate to lie. I just don't feel comfortable discussing my female organs with people who are just fishing for gossip.

As I start to show, with a nice Santa-style belly to come, I realize that I have no control over what rude comments people will make. Sometimes I let people slide and realize that in their excitement they are just more bold in their questions. People are curious and inevitably know someone who took Clomid or took seven years to get pregnant.

So as much as I want to be the comeback queen and jump at each opportunity to put a pushy person in her place, I realize that would only continue the uncomfortable conversation. I am learning to smile, mention my family history of twins and change the subject.

My babies are listening right now, and they don't need to hear their mother being nasty to everyone who asks about them.

Laura Lewis Brown is an adventurous newlywed who has loved, lost and doesn't mind sharing. Her column appears every other Thursday.