Hello Abbey Heffer

Nice to meet you. Excellent article and perspective.Thank you for how much you have stirred up inside of me.

Even though it was my own choice not to have children, I am keenly interested in the experience women have as they proceed through the process of motherhood.

As a committed feminist, I support the day when all women are treated as equal people ( in all aspects of life). Personal decisions on many matters, one example: to be or not to be a mother make no difference in this crucial battle that feminists face. Women need to stand together. Men need to support us and do their part.

You might find this interesting: ( in advance, please note that this story happened in North America, but it could have been almost anywhere)

Once, before I entirely had my feminist act together, I did get pregnant. On purpose. I hate to publically admit this, though, because I agreed to pregnancy only as a result of massive pressure from my partner. He wanted children, not me.

Ultimately the pregnancy ended in miscarriage, and shortly after, so did the marriage. Let me tell you, though, about the unacceptable way I was treated at the hospital and by the attending doctors before the miscarriage looked probable.

Again a reminder: at that stage in my life, I saw myself as a budding feminist. The seeds were planted, yet only beginning to grow. Still, my keen sense of observation was in top gear.

I recall going to appointments dressed in my tailored business suit. Arranging the appointments around my client meetings. In fact, in that lobby, there were all sorts of clothing styles and varied day job demeanors. And why wouldn’t there be? It was a group of diverse women (people) present to check up on their health and that of their future child.

Once I walked through the maternity wing doors, I immediately felt diminished. As though the entire lot of us were “things,” doing the only duty we were put on this earth to do.

I was consistently spoken to condescendingly. Never once except to ID me at the beginning was I called my name. I was addressed as “honey” or “dearie.” If I expressed even a minor opinion on something, I was always asked if my husband would be ok with what I said.

One example : Would I arrive at the hospital with a selection of either pink or blue blankets depending if we chose to know the baby’s gender in advance!!! Is that really relevant, I asked. Your husband might want to see his son in blue, they snapped back.

I remember imagining that the floor of the unit was moving like a conveyer belt, and every pregnant woman sitting in the waiting room was given a number and position on that moving carpet. I kept thinking: they are treating us like cattle. Nothing was personalized.

And our time. Wow. The attitude toward us and time was in-your-face indifference. Almost like our lives had nothing else in it. Sitting there for hours and hours, asking no questions was expected of us.

We were not treated as free choice human beings attending an appointment to confirm our own and baby’s health. The attitude we received as a group felt like we were merely pregnant organisms, no more than that. Doing the only job that nature thought we should.

Intelligent people deciding to have a child? The process I watched ( and briefly participated in) had no allowance for that.

I witnessed nothing even remotely close to the concept of giving birth as a feminist.

Abbey Heffer I did not mean for this comment to be so long. It fired up memories I thought I had forgotten. I most likely will turn all or parts of this into my own additional Medium story ( this comment and YOU being the inspiration). I will officially credit you if I do this. Hope this is OK with you.
Many thanks.