Why women {mothers} can’t have nice things.

I had a conversation recently at a friend’s baby shower about motherhood. Specifically my friend and new mom, Jen, kept apologizing, saying something like: “I’m so sorry guys, I didn’t know how hard this was. I wish I had done more when you had your babies. I knew it was going to be hard but this is, like, really hard.” We all had that moment of solidarity and commiseration – like, yup – shits hard man.

You can’t really understand it until you’re in it.

Of course, none of us were thinking that she hadn’t done enough for us when we were new moms. But we did all know exactly where she was coming from, how she was feeling, and that maybe she could use some relief or support. We had all been there, muddled our way through, and made it out the other side (barely) in recent years. She hadn’t known better in the past, but I should have known better having been through it. So, I offered to babysit – an offer I genuinely meant, but haven’t followed up on.

Looking back on this weeks later, it hit me: this is what women so often do to each other, isn’t it? We feign support and togetherness and understanding and women’s rights and feminism. But when the going gets tough, are we really there for each other as we should be?

I guess if you’re lucky, you’ll say yes – you feel supported by everyone around you and all moms that came before you. Or that you try to embody those principles, always. You go, perfect human!

But for the rest of us flawed beings, I can’t help but wonder – are we just (at best) so preoccupied with ourselves that we literally can’t put others first or (at worst) fine with ignoring the plight of fellow women during their worst of times because it’s just not our problem. #goodluckwiththat

Last year, we had two weeks of lacking childcare between Charlie’s Summer Rec program and First grade starting. My husband or I took one week of vacation, I can’t remember which one of us took the hit or if we split it. Then, for the remaining 5 days we decided we would trade off bringing him to work. This would be very convenient, since we work at the same place and could cover each other when needed for meetings or other critical tasks. He was 6 and could get along with out being a huge disruption. (Enter: iPad.) Working at a location open to the community has this type of perk – children can be on grounds as long as they are not sick, left alone, or disruptive. We were grateful for this type of flexible policy and had seen other parent-colleagues take advantage of it in the past too.

After the week (which I thought went very well) wrapped, I learned of a complaint made that me bringing my child to campus was inappropriate and a violation of policy. Unbeknownst to the complainant, we had actually followed policy to the letter – a point that was made back to this woman. This mother. This owner of a previously occupied uterus who, come to find out, had only complained due to the fact that she never had that benefit when she was raising her children, and it seemed unfair. This is why we can’t have nice things.

No one ever made a complaint about my husband having our son with him that week.

Will we ever get to the place where women can raise each other up instead of tearing each other down? The Equal Rights Amendment was first introduced in 1921 and it is still not ratified. I repeat: WE HAVE NO GUARANTEE OF EQUALITY UNDER THE CONSTITUTION EXCEPT FOR THE RIGHT TO VOTE. Most states still do not offer any type of paid parental leave for new mothers or new fathers following the birth or adoption of a child. There certainly hasn’t been a successful Federal leave program ratified, either. We see a mother on food stamps or welfare and most of us make harsh judgements about her circumstance based on preconceived and likely inaccurate notions. Don’t lie, as a society, we are judgey. 

You know how we forget the pain of childbirth after a few years pass and we naively think, that wasn’t so bad – I can totally do it again!?

I can’t help but wonder if it’s the same with everything else. Like, once we’re out of {insert type of struggle here} ourselves, we quickly forget what it was truly like. Instead we think, I had it just as hard and I made it through, so why can’t they? We just make half-assed offers to babysit and carry on our way.

We designed a new open-concept building at work years ago. In the first meeting with the architects, these 4 men quickly learned of the hill on which I planned to die.

“Show me again where the mother’s room is,” I said. In every meeting.

With 100+ millennial, primarily female employees in an open floor plan, it was the most critical feature to me.

“I will not lose new moms because we don’t offer them a private place to pump. Period.”

I knew I was well past this stage in my life. That ship sailed when Nora bit a chunk of skin off my nipple. (TMI?) But, I remember like yesterday how embarrassed I was to ask for curtains on my door to give me privacy to pump when I first started working there. And how the maintenance crew refused to put up blinds on another colleagues door for her – because it was against the “aesthetic” of the floor.

The mother’s room had moved around quite a bit in the drawn plans. First it was within our open, locked space. Then it moved to an exterior hallway. In one of the last meetings, I noticed the mother’s room had disappeared from the plan altogether.

“Now, where is the mother’s room?”

“There will be very nice bathrooms.”

“That’s illegal. We need to provide a place for pumping. I need to see it back here.”

Finally, the plan was settled. The mother’s room ended up nested outside the men’s bathroom. Not an ideal place, but it’s a nicely designed room. Also not ideal that it was initially named the “Privacy Room” and was expected to be used for prayer as well as transient traffic changing their clothes after going to the gym. That’s about when I was all, hold my beer while I climb back up this hill.

TL:DR – I won, and there’s now a lovely mother’s room equipped with lounge chair and refrigerator. #nailedit

I’d like to think, when I’m faced with these scenarios in the future, I will follow the second example. We may move past certain stages of life, but it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t stay invested in the fight to make the circumstances of those stages better for each generation of women that may follow us. In fact, we should fight harder because we’ve been there and we know what it’s like to be stuck in the blur. We remember feeling like we were drowning. And we remember how it felt when someone threw us a life preserver, and we were able to draw in those first breaths of air again.