I like to think that I've lived my life like the independent woman my mom and grandmother wanted me to be. And what's better is that even though I am now married, my spouse has never been threatened by my independence and always encourages me to do what I want. He knows I can use a hammer or drill and that I can lift heavy objects, etc. He never talks down to me or minimizes my activist causes or professional decisions. Hell, I shoot guns and go fishing and he doesn't and is in no way emasculated by it. He was raised by a feminist woman--and it shows.
Unfortunately, this week I had to ignore my own desire to be independent and had to rely heavily on my hubby.
Hubby and I have been homeowners for a month and 9 days, but it feels like a lifetime--and not in a good way. Two days ago, while the painters were at our home painting the house interior on the first level, our plumbing backed up. This resulted in blueish-green water (from the painters rinsing their brushes in the kitchen sink) coming up through the basement showers and flooding over half of the basement.
Our basement is not a scary and dark place. It is open and bright and
What I didn't realize was how labor-intensive this disaster would be. Trekking up and down the stairs, moving boxes, shelves, furniture, etc. I realized early into the ordeal that because of my belly I just can't do what I used to physically. Bending over to get something off the floor is hard, not to mention painful because of my back. I also get tired a lot quicker than I used to. This realization sucked. It's not fair that my hubby has to do all of the back-breaking work to get this mess cleaned up! Just because I have a vagina doesn't mean I am disabled! I can do anything he can do!
Well--I had to step over my pride and relinquish control. I did as much as I could of the "small" things and hubby did the heavy lifting and took care of everything else. I made him a list of the things that needed to be done (his parents get in town today, so I wanted our main floor to at least look presentable) since I was too exhausted to do them. And you know what? It'll all be ok. Yes, we are exhausted and yes, my pride is a little wounded but we are alive and well.
I guess the moral to the story is that even though I am physically limited right now because I am pregnant, it doesn't mean I am any less feminist. I can STILL do anything a man can do and more--I get to bring a little person into this world! I just need to realize that it's ok to take it easy and focus on my own health. Thank goodness I've got an amazing feminist husband to back me up when I need him.