Why Am I Such An Atypical Woman?
hy Am I Such a Weird Woman?
OK, I have a confession to make. I am not like most women. In fact, I’ve never gotten along with most women throughout my life. When I was about 12 or 13, I remember that the boys sat on one side of the room and the girls on the other. The girls were very interested in clothes, makeup and guys. The guys focused on doing well academically. So can you guess on which side of the room I sat?
As I got older, I began to find more women who didn’t fit into the standard female, oh-my-god, let’s whip my hair over my shoulder and giggle, mode. That was cool. But then I started to encounter the Mommies. And they began to scare me. They had hour long discussions on topics such as bonding with baby and making their own baby food. Their eyes took on almost a demented gleam as they spoke. They argued passionately for long-term breastfeeding, calling it the most beautiful thing ever.
I withdrew from these unexciting conversations as quickly as I could. To me, they were duller than watching paint dry. A few years ago, I asked my mother whether I was missing something in my avoidance of discussions of attachment parenting and when to toilet train. In typical fashion, my mother sucked her teeth, rolled her eyes and said that she didn’t raise me to partake in such foolishness. So OK, I came by it honestly.
Though I wanted to be a parent, I so didn’t want to end up part of the Stepford Cult of Mommies. There had to be another way to be a mother without all that shite I had no interest in. And you know what really toasted my bread? When you moved to remove yourself from a vigorous discussion of Peg Perego, one of them would look at you and say those officious words, “When you’re a mother, you’ll understand.”
Oh, so motherhood is going to turn me from someone passionate about social and racial injustice to a person who loves to wax philosophic about the pros and cons of walkers? How much I wanted to slap them, you do not know.
Maternity leave was another divisive topic with the Mommies.
“Aren’t you going to stay home until your child goes to school?”
And why the hell would I want to do that? I’ll be going back to work in 4-6 weeks.
“But won’t you be sad to leave the baby?”
“Yeah, but my ass has to and needs to work. Not everyone is made for or wants to be a SAHM.”
Then they would shake their heads, tutting softly, “When you’re a mother, you’ll understand.”
Homicide would then come to mind.
I’ve got to ask, why is it so hard for the Mommies to understand that there are many different/disparate ways to be a successful mother? Why can’t they just respect your choices instead of looking down their noses at you for opting for something completely different from them (for your own sanity)? I was not raised with a SAHM sensibility or genotype. It isn’t in me to be a housewife. I have no desire to be a housewife. Why the hell should I be a housewife?
Now I am feminist enough to recognize that we all make choices that are comfortable for us. If you choose to stay home, that is your business. So why do I draw the Mommies ire when I say that there is no way that I would ever make that choice? Don’t I have the right to make my own choices?
My mother told me that I should never, ever be financially dependent on another person, period. This was a lesson from the cradle. People will disappoint you, leave you, or may die unexpectedly. Always earn your own money. So ingrained was this that I think to go against it would cause me major psychological scarring. But so far it has served me well.
But I digress. Unfortunately in the past week of living as a pregnant woman, I have found myself growing more and more uncomfortable with my fellow pregnant ladies online. They speak of being afraid of vaccines because despite millions of pages of research, reporting, and safety data, some woman on the internet said that the H. flu vaccine caused her child to sprout a 3rd eye. This is so sad to me because I remember all the dead and deaf babies I attempted to treat with H. influenza meningitis. I remember having to perform a spinal tap on a dead 4 month old baby to identity the cause of the meningitis that killed him. I found myself automatically comforting him before I realized that he wasn’t squirming or crying. He died of an infection that we don’t even see any more. Why don’t we see it? We have a damn good vaccine against H. flu now. So no more spinal taps on dead babies. This is a public health victory.
Vaccines have done more to improve the health of the public than any other intervention in history. Even antibiotics. I can understand that people can be scared of things they don’t fully understand, but I suggest they do their homework. Instead of reading the websites of the antivaccine folks, try looking at good, balanced, public health sites. Even my former employer, The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, has a Vaccine Information Site to answer questions parents have about vaccines. But I as a mother to be am not scared of vaccines. I’m scared of not having vaccines and returning to the days of dead and deaf babies. That terrifies me.
But it is the leading with the emotions and not logic or reasoning that really can kill me with the Mommies. As a doctor, I avoid hysteria like the plague. When everyone else in the room is losing their minds (residents, parents, patients), I have to remain calm and handle the situation. As such, I don’t usually react to things in an emotional way. Vaccines, I’ve done the research, good thing. Breastfeeding, I’ve got a phobia about (there’s something bovine about it), but I plan to at least do it for 2 months because it’s good for the baby. But my baby won’t die if I don’t manage to breastfeed, so please don’t try to convince me of this. Natural childbirth, midwives, and doulas? Why? Scheduled section, home, and then more loving up of the baby. You see, I’m just not digging the whole emotionality, major feminine experience portion of the thing. I’m just not wired that way.
See, it’s like when I got married. People asked me if I was changing my name. Why would I want to do that? I have a name. I’ve had said name for 39 years. Why do I want to change it? And the people who asked looked at me quite confused. Then I tried, “Well I wanted to be a wife, but never wanted to be a Mrs.” More blank looks. Finally I raised my fist into the air and exclaimed, “I am to be possessed by no man. I am not chattel. Down with the patriarchy and long live the vagina!” At least it got them away from me.
I really want to be a Mom, but I’d stick pins in my eyes before becoming a Mommy. My own mother would return from the other side and beat my ass if I started talking lovingly about bonding. I’m going to be a mom (NBHHY!) and a good, nontraditional, no nonsense, therapized mom I will be. So there!
PS: Can anyone suggest a good pregnancy book/journal that won’t induce nausea for a mom-to-be like me?
[...] the older I get, the more I struggle with understanding or relating to those of my own sex. Sure, I’ve written about it before. A few times. This is not news. Yet old age and menopause seem to be causing me to lose the [...]