Before I get started on my long discussion of pregnancy and how the female condition interacts with work and affects professional careers, I want to shout out a disclaimer. Not all women have children, not all women want children and not all women have gone through pregnancies while working in a cubicle. Despite this, I think we all have some commonalities to share. I encourage it. Whether we are caring for kids, aged parents, sick spouses, significant others or pets, we all know what it feels like to be pulled between our work commitments and those that need us most.
I didn't plan either of my pregnancies. Both were total surprises to me. Despite the surprises, I was very happy to have both of my children. No regrets. I remember seeing that blue dot on my pregnancy test and feeling sick. Sick from the hormones that were raging in my system and sick with worry about what the future would hold with a new little one coming into our home. But the sickness was combined with unadulterated joy. I rushed to tell my husband and my mother that I was pregnant. My friends were happy for me. But then I had to tell my employer.
As many women do, I waited until I was showing to tell my boss I was pregnant. I knew what had happened to other women in the office when they fessed up to being pregnant. They were ridiculed, demoted, treated like they had a terminal illness and denied good raises. I was on the fast track; I certainly did not want that to happen to me. It couldn't happen to me. Even though I rationalized my fears I still did not tell anyone until I absolutely had to.
As soon as my female colleagues found out I was expecting the pregnancy war stories started circulating again. "Do you know that you've just killed your career?" I was asked more than once. No, I didn't know that. "Did you know you won't get a decent raise after the baby is born?". Nope, I didn't know that either. I was dizzied by all the comments made about my reproductive status. I started feeling guilty about having the baby. Guilty. No woman should ever feel guilty about having a baby, or choosing not to have a baby.
Ten weeks into my first pregnancy I heard my daughter's heart beating. I got over my fear and my guilt. I got angry. The powers that be did not have the right to judge my work, or my professional career, because I had chosen to have a child. I started taking notes and listening carefully to what was being said about me, and other women who had chosen to reproduce, at the office. I realized the questions that had been repeatedly asked of me were asked for good reason. My female colleagues had rich histories that needed to be explored.
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