*Note: Copied over from morning pages journal vol. 5, personal journal vol. 8, dated 11/16/2018

Yesterday, NPR was hosting a woman (I don’t recall her name [I FIND THIS HAPPENING A LOT]) and asked her opinion on women in the workplace and pregnancy. The woman being interviewed was a reporter, revealing she delivered her baby in secret one afternoon, then proceeded to file a story the next day.

That’s…dedication…question mark?

She said she felt like she had to, that to prove having a baby, that creating life over months and months, was not going to get her down. Expelling a human life from her uterus was more of a pit-stop than a life-changing event.

That might be the most hardcore thing I’ve ever heard. Once April has the baby, I, too will attempt to achieve that level of awesomeness.

At the time of writing, April appears to be 6 weeks pregnant. She hasn’t scheduled an appointment yet, but we’re being hopeful.

A baby.

Hers. Mine.

Ours.

The reporter, who must have published a book on the topic, revealed that children and having children are no longer respected in the workplace. Kids are seen as a weakness, a hindrance. She claims that specific feeling can be traced back to the mid-1800s, where child labor reforms were passes. Apparently, back then, when children were valued for their tins hands and innate ability to crawl under heavy machinery to fetch the foreman’s dropped pocket watch. Who cares if it’s dangerous, I need to fancily check the time, dammit!

Men used to beam with pride if they got the children in the divorce. Or, more commonly, if the husband left the wife for a younger woman.

Nowadays, children are seen and used as a sign of weakness.

This was written about 2 weeks before we found out we suffered a miscarriage. I found it funny the feelings hold true, even in this pregnancy. Sometimes not changing is a good sign.

I happily embrace the oncoming twin Acosta boys.

Thanks for reading,

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