After a good night's sleep, and some Diet Mountain Dew, I figured out what I was trying to say in yesterday's scatalogical post: Feminist. That's the word I was looking for.
There was a commenter in MN's aforementioned blog who suggested that a woman drowning in a toxic and deteriorating marriage should give her husband another chance (for the nth time) because "marriage is work." This remark chapped my hide, and it took me a day to figure out why. How is it that the wife should "give him another chance" and "stick with marriage even though it's work," but the selfish, unrepentant dude is not required to do any of said work, or change his behavior in any way. This is sexist and anti-woman.
At the time, I was tempted to use the F word in my comment. I held off for fear of alienating my fellow bloggers. But if what Halfmama says is true, whatever appeal I have as a blogger comes from my willingness to be candid. So I will invoke the "F" word now. I am a feminist and proud of it. Does that mean I hate men? Hell to the no. I love men. I even married one. I live with all males, and wouldn't have it any other way. I have no sisters, only a brother that I adore. Men. Men. Men. I love men! But that doesn't mean I can't be a feminist.
How does feminism tie in to my poop story from yesterday? Because that anecdote typifies how women are often socialized to not reveal the truly ugly parts of their individual experiences, especially when it comes to childbirth. It's all prettied up, sanitized for our protection. A conspiracy theorist might say it's to keep us all breeding. I don't believe that. But I do think it's a holdover from a Victorian Era that encourages women not to be graphic, ribald, or frank with each other about what happens with their bodies. Phooey on that.
To strengthen each other, we really should reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly:
Yes! You're going to dump on the delivery table!
Yes! You are going to have your period for like 4 weeks after the baby comes out.
Yes! You will have bed-soaking night sweats after delivering.
Yes! There will likely be a medical student or fumbling resident in your delivery room as a "learning opportunity." (My first-timer asked if he could "check me" during a contraction, to which I shrieked, "Get away from me!" Of course, I was foolish enough to have my baby in July. Everyone knows you should never go to the hospital in July.)
Yes! Your privates will be eyeballed by everyone, including janitorial staff, and you won't give a damn because you just want that baby out!
Yes! You will have stitches somewhere, either in the cooter or the belly depending on how things go for you. (With Baxter, I even had one in my clitoris because I tore so much. Did I mention he had a HUGE head?)
Yes! Breastfeeding hurts for the first 10-14 days even if you are doing it right!
No! You will not want to have sex even after the doctor says you can.
In an effort to strengthen our ties to each other as women, I invite you to post/comment with your hidden truths about childbearing. Not to scare away the women who haven't done it yet. But to prepare them for what they will face. It's the sisterly thing to do. No...it's the feminist thing to do.
4 comments:
Related to your last post... I had such a hard time getting myself to pee. seriously, I was begging the nurst to stick a cathether in me again because the full bladder was driving me crazy but I couldn't get myself to pee. Per nurse's suggestion, I would soak halfway in a warm bath (while keeping an eye on less-than-a-day old LN in her hospital bassinet) because that was the old way I could pee.
When PN stopped by for his 20 minute visit, I asked him to stay a little longer so I could do this in peace while he kept an eye on LN... he was horrified that I was peeing in the bathtub while soaking in the same water. He refused to stay longer, of course.
I'm not a woman...but I'm clapping for your post...Rock on with your bad self and the "F" word.
Oh yeah no one told me:
1. I would completely PUFF UP LIKE A BLOWFISH after giving birth b/c of the epi and spinal. My feet were very very puffy.
2. I would at one point wish my husband wasn't in the delivery room w/me b/c I just wanted to be left alone, and really that whole sisboombah you can push one more time was wearing very, very thin.
3. The all night screaming of our baby when he came back from the hospital b/c the gauze from his circumcision FELL OFF -- was so horrible that my husband slept right through it and I stayed up all night trying to comfort him to no avail. Related --- no one told me that I would be plotting his demise from that point on until he finally got a clue. Another of my friends told me she had the same response and 4 of her friends were pretty much ready to divorce their husbands post partum.
I could go on.
I have no idea if this is a twin thing because we recently shared this with a friend (a father, btw) who recoiled in horror... but my stomach convulsed in waves post-birth after trying to shrink back to normal. This may have been because I had two in there and it was stretched to its max, but it was like watching Alien in my belly. I half-expected a small fist to bust through at some point. And maybe even Sigourney too. My stomach had a mind of its own and it was frightening.
I was so swollen the last few weeks of pregnancy that I couldn't walk. Partly because I had no shoes that fit. Yes, your feet will grow at least two sizes. Maybe more. I looked like Fred Flinstone.
Nursing hurts like a mofo. Of course, with two (don't ask me about more than two; I can't even imagine), you will feel like a cow. You may as well chew on cud and say Moo.
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