The Damsel's Dilmena

Until now I didn't realize the therapeutic nature of this blog. That my interest in writing about his topic is directly correlated with the stage I am at in my life as I battle with coming to terms with what it means to be female. In this day and age, so many of the expectations and stereotypes aren't really relevant for most women under the age of 25 . . . domesticity, marriage, gender roles, career planning vs family planning, childbirth, to breastfeed or not to breastfeed, to breastfeed or not to breastfeed - in public, saggy breasts, menopause . . .

Aside from loving chocolate, wearing skirts (occasionally) and the ability to talk for hours with a friend about each and every analytical detail of a situation, I don't see myself as being much different than any man. I completed a degree in mechanical engineering surrounded by 101 men and 9 other women. I wore hard hats and steal toe boots to work. I drove monstrous pick-up trucks, quads and school buses. I didn't shower for a week, and I didn't brush my hair for 3 months. I lived in a trailer on a construction site where I was the only female and ate bacon and eggs for breakfast every morning. I kayaked for three weeks on Canada's rugged seas and canoed for 17 days in the high north. I lived on a boat for 2 weeks every summer. I took helicopters through the mountains, float planes in a storm and wrapped chains around my tires to drive in the snow. I peed in the street, in the bush, in my kayak and in urinals when I had the chance. I took pride in the fact that I could drink a lot of beer and that I liked my scotch neat. I even bought men's boxers for the better part of a decade.

So . . . what is my point? My POINT is that I may have been less interested in engineering (due in part to playing with Barbies and not engines while growing up), judged my my female counterparts for what daily bacon would do to my butt (let alone my heart) and virtually incapable of remembering how to change the tire on the F350 truck after I did it, but I could and DID do it all.

As I sit here in a busy downtown coffee shop swarming with corporate men and women, and sitting opposite a chaotic table of disheveled mums with their two small children, I am appreciating the leap of faith these women must have made to have children. Yes, it is the most normal and natural role for women. But it looks so unnatural in this environment. Which makes me think why? Maybe it has to do with the equality women have succeeded in obtaining throughout recent history and the inequality inherent in childbirth. Men can't birth babies. They can't. They can watch the birth, they can feed the baby, they can raise the baby, but they can't be pregnant and they can't give birth.

More often than not, women are still the ones seen at 9 am on a Wednesday morning carrying a baby in one hand and a latte in the other while attempting to visit with their girlfriend. Although some men are also starting to assume this daytime care-giver role (thanks to paternal leave), the very nature of childbirth and breastfeeding (if one chooses) still requires the mum to be the first "stay-at-home parent".

And then starts the mental shift . . . am I the only woman approaching 30 out there who has started taking folic acid, become more risk adverse and decided to take my career in a more family friendly direction? Almost four years ago, I turned 26, met someone great, and promptly decided that having babies was what I was put on this earth to do. But... it's all fine and well to harp on about the curvaceous beauty of a pregnant body, the miraculous occasion of childbirth and the power to give life, when you haven't actually been there. The mum's sitting across from me communicate solely via their children, despite their best attempts to have a more intellectual conversation. I think they looked at each other twice to roll their eyes. Their frustration was entirely understandable. In the span of 8 minutes, one child was ferociously crying while the other sent a mug of hot coffee streaming across the table. I guess today as I watched these mums I couldn't help but wonder who else they were - before they joined the pee-wee club? A question that is likely in their own thoughts as their minutes, hours and days are filled with frequent feedings, messy diapers, crying children and spilt milk. Did they also think this was their ultimate purpose in life?

Spilt milk and unsuccessful coffee dates just comes with the territory - the territory of being a woman, with womanly parts and the responsibility/privilege to choose to travel a path that only women will travel. To accept the challenge and find solidarity in other women - even if you never have before. Women who are married, single, sexually straight, sexually curious, house-wives, corporate managers, public breast-feeders, formula feeders, fitness freaks, teenage mums or nearing 45 . . . you are no longer as clearly defined by these choices and values but by your shared position in society - and humanity. A position of duty and responsibility, purpose (no doubt), isolation (at times), sheer chaos (at others), exhaustion, reward and ultimate femininity - whether you like it or not.

To ignore this unique function of being a woman seems a shame. After all, the propagation of the human race (which is in itself a controversial discussion) relies on some of us stepping up to the plate. But I would argue that the compromises are greater and the decisions more complex - or at least very different - for women today. Today, pregnancy and early motherhood asks that you check your manual labor, corporate connections, intellectual conversation, independence, extreme sports, caffeine addiction, and scotch habits at the door of conception.

On the other hand, nobody will judge you for eating bacon for two . . . just as long as it's well cooked!