Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby. Suddenly and weirdly all promoted ads have flipped: IVF, counselling, pure conception vitamins, support groups, clinics, eggs, and surrogates.

Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby. It knows my profession, my location, my age. It knows I haven’t had a child in what you would call recently, and presumes there is profit if I have “left it late”.

Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby. As if the choice is easy, and only its to make. As if there are inherent flaws in Lady Decision Trees, as if my own algorithms are inadequate.

Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby, but I cannot share the gore of birth or beauty of breastfeeding: the database’s spaces are controlled by (male?) programmers who patrol the view of motherhood that others should be seeing.

Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby. I’ve had friends delete their profiles with the endless repeat of thoughtless, callous nudges – as if they had forgotten! – after years of expectations, disappointments, and defeat.

Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby. And I’m lucky – I’m so lucky! – I can swipe this one away: the antisocial questions amplified by social media, the casual public prodding of presumed anxiety.

Facebook has decided it is time I had a baby. Eventually I train it to show “less things like that”. It shows -instead of ads for babies- ads for hysterectomies and just goes back to normal: telling me I’m fat.

Just a selection of ads thrown at me over a few days:

And don’t get me started on these incubator chasers: