Day 5

Wow, the month starts to move when you enter on a challenge! Fifth day already, and it seems like the month just started. No matter, I’m not going to let it run over me. I will keep up with it, no matter how fast it moves. And today, I bring you the story of another woman who is determined to keep up with life no matter how it moves. And no matter who tries to tell her no.

BREEDERS

Portia watched me from the doorway. The papers she held fluttered to the floor and scattered. She dropped to her knees to collect the pages of the important document, and shuffled them until they were back in order. I smiled, not wanting her to be nervous about approaching me, or embarrassed about her butterfingers moment.

“Come on in, have a seat.” I motioned her to the chair, but she hovered in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”

“I was going to ask you that. You had a look…frown…almost like you were upset about something.”

I considered that. Was I upset? Probably…but certainly not at Portia, who hesitated to enter my office. From fear? Fear of me? Surely not. I have never done anything to make my team afraid of me.

“I’m sorry, I was just…thinking…about something…somewhere else. A…strange…incident.” I stammered, wanting to reassure her, but not wanting to reveal too much. “I’d really prefer you come in. It makes me nervous with you hovering.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean…I mean...well, it’s just…” Portia struggled to get her thoughts together in a coherent form, but apparently gave up because she fell silent and settled in the seat I again indicated. She perched on the front of her chair as if ready to take flight.

“Are those the papers I need to review?” I tried to instill kindness in my voice, but the nature of the words was so banal that kindness was an unlikely result.

She nodded and laid the document, somewhat disorderly from its recent adventure, on the desk. She waited while I reviewed the forms, then signed my name with my usual flourish and handed them back to her. She scampered out of my office like a frightened rabbit. What in the world has happened to her, I thought. She has always been upbeat and cheery, seemingly fearless as she tackled a job all the men in the office were sure an attractive young woman just a few years out of college couldn’t do. I knew it had to be more than my frown.

I pulled my chair closer to the desk and slid my growing belly into the space designed for a human body without that extra appendage. I glared at the offending protrusion as though it were to blame for my current situation. Actually, I think it probably was, but it wasn’t the fault of the child that was growing inside me. It was the fault of a world that seemed to believe that a pregnant woman was…well, something other than fully human.

I glared out the window at my team, newly assembled for the purpose of this project. It wasn’t their fault, either, and I didn’t mind that my team was all women. They were all talented, capable women, and I was proud to have the level of knowledge and skill that made up this particular project team. Only…I needed the specific skills of a couple of other people in the firm, a couple of men who had worked on projects like this before. Without them, I was the only one with the knowledge to carry out certain tasks, and I needed assistance to get them done. When the coordinator of projects denied my request to put them on my team, I stormed into his office, eyes flashing with fury. A few minutes later, I slunk out, tail between my legs. I would not have the team I needed. It was almost as if they wanted to sabotage the project.

I have worked for this firm for fifteen years, and built up a reputation that now leads me to the best projects. When I was assigned to this project, I was thrilled. It was exactly what I wanted to do, an engineering design ideally suited to my talents and training. I started to assemble my team, and was getting enthusiastic responses from all the people I approached; everyone wanted to be part of the project. Nothing could have surprised me more than the chilly reception I got when I finally compiled the list of those I wanted to work with me, and approached the top people on the list to invite them onto the team. The women all accepted without reservations; the men hemmed and hawed and finally turned me down cold. So now, I have a team of the top women in the firm, some of the best engineers I’ve ever worked with, but I am lacking people with particular experience that would be valuable…that will be necessary…to successfully complete the project.

You might wonder how things came to such a pass. I wondered about it myself, until a chance remark by a man in the hallway as I passed in earshot…perhaps intentional on his part…clued me in to what was happening. It was…well, let me start at the beginning.

When Michael and I got married, all those years ago, we never talked about having children. We weren’t particularly interested in being parents, and we were happy as we were, making a life together and spending all our spare time doing things we both loved. When he brought up the subject after ten years, I thought…he’s kidding, right? He doesn’t really mean it. As it became clear he really meant it, I began to suspect he had lost his mind. We don’t know anything about being parents, and we are now in our mid-thirties and settled into some very pleasant routines. Why disrupt what was working? But he was so sure it was what he wanted, and he was so persuasive, I agreed to make the leap into motherhood.

I got pregnant quicker than either of us expected. We figured, at our age, it might be a challenge. It turned out that fertility was easy…it’s the rest that was hard. I found out about my pregnancy shortly after being assigned this project, during the time I was assembling my team. I informed my bosses, so they wouldn’t be caught off guard when I needed a few weeks off, and went on with my work, like all the other women did when they had their children. There was nothing dangerous or problematic about the work I was doing, and I saw no reason to ask for any special accommodations unless something came up.

That’s what happened, of course. All the men were turned off the project because they decided it would almost certainly fail. The project lead was pregnant. Hormones were changing. She was going to go crazy. She wasn’t going to be able to pull off such a major project, with or without a crack team. They didn’t want to be on board the train when it derailed. So they all jumped off at the station and left me to move forward with a good team, but not quite a complete team. That’s what I heard from the men in the hallway. Going to fail…we’ll be there to pick it up when she blows it…women always getting pregnant…why do we have to have women here anyway?

I moved forward with the project, taking the all-female team I was assigned. It seems none of the men were willing to work for a pregnant female. None of them were willing to accept the possibility that a woman with a belly full of child could succeed at a major project. And, I suspect, my condition reminded them that I was a woman, something I suspect they often forgot when I was their supervisor in the past, because I am rational, intelligent, strong, and capable. They associate those qualities with males. With this…belly…it is impossible to pretend I am male.

The more horrifying things that happened, though, were not at work. The pregnancy didn’t change me, other than the morning sickness, the swollen feet, and the growing belly. A new wardrobe? Okay, not that much of a change. But it changed my husband, a man who had always been a loving partner, sharing the duties of the home, proud to have a successful engineer as his wife. At first, he became more solicitous, and that was okay, though somewhat annoying, since I didn’t need any extra care. He brought me gifts, and warmed up the bed for me before I got in, and it’s hard to complain about behaviors like that. No one would understand.

It was later, as I started to show, that the troubles began. He stopped doing his share of the household chores, perhaps also reminded by my growing belly that I am not only a woman, but a wife. He started referring to me as “the little woman” or “my better half”, both phrases that made me want to hit him, hard. He started calling me “his wife” to his friends; I was no longer Natalie, no longer a person of my own, but merely a half of him.

This morning, it all burst wide open. We were at breakfast, which was quieter than had been our habit. We used to start out the day discussing things…what we were going to do that day. Who we liked in the presidential election. History. Religion. Science. Any topic that interested us at the time was fair game. In the past few weeks, breakfast has grown quiet, as he reads his paper and I pick at the food I know will end up in the toilet before I get out of the house. Today, though, I was actually trying to eat a good breakfast. The morning sickness has settled down, and I have been eating better in the mornings. He has been hiding behind his paper.

Until he put the paper down. From my vantage point later in the day, with time to reflect, I wish he had suffocated himself in it. He stared straight into my face as though I were a stranger, and asked me when I was going to quit my job. I just stared. I thought he was kidding. I thought maybe he was starting up one of our old jokes, often brought on by something ridiculous in the news. I shook my head. I wasn’t interested in playing this morning. He repeated the question, in deadly earnest, not joking, not playing a game. He said now that I was going to be a mother, it was time for me to quit work, to stay home and raise our child. He said he knew it had been fun for me to work, but now it was time to become a full time mother.

I growled, hoping he would lay off. Fun? That isn’t what my job was about. He persisted. “Seriously, Natalie, you need to be thinking about leaving before you do real damage to the baby.”

Natalie? Whatever happened to Natty? And damage? What sort of damage could I do to a developing baby by working? “Most women work right up until delivery”, I mumbled, my mouth full of English muffin. I don’t usually talk with my mouth full, but I thought it might keep me from saying what I really thought.

“Most women are foolish, selfish goofs”, Michael announced. “You’re not like that. You’re an educated, intelligent woman, capable of realizing what a baby needs.”

That did it. I was furious. “Most women are what?” I gulped, trying not to scream. “The women who work for me are anything but foolish or selfish…they are definitely not goofs. And they worked right up until the day they went into labor, and returned at the earliest possible moment. They are good mothers.”

“How could they be good mothers? They leave their children in day care all day to go to an office and play at being engineers.”

I slapped him. Twice. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him. He kissed me, even though I fought against it. He’s stronger than me, and I didn’t want to do anything to hurt the baby we had both decided to have. As soon as possible, I jerked away.

“Why did you do that?”

 “We always end a fight with a kiss, right?” Michael was beaming.

 “End? Who said it’s ended? I slapped the shit out of you, and you think you won?”

Michael shrugged. “It’s ended. I just ended it. There won’t be any more slapping. You’ll go to work today and tell them you’re quitting. I know, you’re worried we can’t make it on my salary, but you know, we’re in good shape. We have the house paid off, we don’t owe much on the credit cards, and the cars are both paid for. We’ll be fine…we’ll be great. I make enough to support both of us, and the baby.”

“You didn’t end it. You don’t have that right…or that power. This fight is in progress until you…you…you…” I stopped, unwilling to say the words that were welling up inside me. In spite of his growing repressive tendencies, I still remember the Michael I married, and I wasn’t ready to burn all my bridges yet. “I’ve got to go to work.” I grabbed my keys and was out the door before he could stop me.

So, yes, I was frowning. And it must have been a hell of a frown, because all the women of my team were clustered around Portia’s desk, watching me through the large window that I was supposed to use to watch them…not that they needed watching. They were all hard workers and didn’t need someone standing over their shoulders. I smiled and waved at them, hoping to dispel whatever fears they had. It didn’t work. Connye broke away and headed toward my office.

“Natalie? Can I come in?”

I nodded, and Connye took the seat that was probably still warm from Portia’s butt. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, shifted a few times, and looked out the window. Whatever she had to say, it was difficult.

“Did you need something?”  I decided to prod her just a little.

“I…well, it’s…there have been…rumors.” Connye shifted and stared at her feet. “We’re all hearing them. Everyone says…this project…they say we were all put here for a reason.”

“You were. Because I requested you.” I smiled at her. She was a talented, capable woman and she had no reason to believe anything else.

“Yes, but…you requested some men, too, right?”

I nodded. “Yes, I wanted Andy and Ryan on the team. But…they had other projects that needed them, and I’m thrilled with the team I have.”

“But Andy and Ryan…well, let’s just say, I’m not sure…” Connye hesitated. I was training her for the things I had wanted from Andy and Ryan, and she was a quick study. “I’m not sure I can be everything you need.”

I scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can. You just haven’t done it before. I was planning on having you work with them, anyway, because I think you’re a natural. I’m not worried. You will do fine.”

“I heard…we were put on this team because they want to…clear the office of…breeders.” Connye spoke so low I almost didn’t hear the last word.

“What was that? Did you say…breeders?”

“Well, that’s what most of them say. Some are a bit…less polite. One man wondered why we needed so many incubators in our line of work. ‘You’d almost think we need someone to lay eggs’ is the way he put it.”

I was furious now. I’d had some complaints with the attitudes of the men in the office before, but nothing so blatant. It was more like talking over the women, interrupting them, and claiming good ideas as their own. The climate began to change when we had the reorganization last year, when the new owners stepped in, but I didn’t think it would go this far. After all, they have continued to give me…and the women on my team…high level important projects. Surely they didn’t think people who had succeeded for so long would suddenly fail.

“I heard…they thought if they gave you a team of only women, you would be sure to fail, especially since you’re…you know, pregnant.” Connye gulped. “They think the men have been doing all the work on the projects, and hiding the incompetence of the women. The new owners are sure that the women here need to be home with our children, taking care of our husbands…like their wives do.”

That was all I needed to hear. I called the team into my office. We had a quick meeting, where they poured out all the hatred and venom they had received during their tenure, and especially during the past year. Most of us had been keeping our experiences to ourselves, not aware this was happening to the other women, too. By the end of the meeting, our list of grievances expanded to twenty-seven pages. I stared at the document, the sheer bulk attesting to the size of the problem.

“This is…” I stopped. I didn’t know what to say this was. The obvious word has come to seem trite, banal…sexism. This wasn’t sexism. This was sheer hatred spilled about the women. “Are any of the men…” I stopped again. I scanned the pages. The women hadn’t hesitated to name names. “Andy. Ryan. They’re not on this list.”

“No, ma’am.” Portia stood forward, ready to be a spokeswoman. “They are…decent. They don’t do things like this.”

“Then why?” I thumped the paper with my pencil. “Why didn’t they want to be on this project?”

“They did.” Connye had been dating Ryan at the time the team was put together. “They really wanted to be part of this project. It’s just…they weren’t allowed. HR said no.”

“So they withheld the two men we most needed. It figures. Things are getting really strange, and this is just the icing on the cake.” I stood, my belly protruding in front of me like a battleship. That’s how I felt. We were going into battle. “Okay, so, we do it. We bring this project in, on time and with the level of quality I knew we can deliver.”

“But…what about….” Connye stopped. I could tell what she was thinking.

“You can do it. You’ve got as much talent as either of them, you just haven’t had the training because no one’s ever trusted you. I have all the necessary skills. I will work with you, and you and I can do what Andy and Ryan would have done.”

I looked from face to face, each face paler than the last, if that was possible. One by one, color returned as I looked at them. Eyes that looked defeated brightened, and the strong, capable women I was used to returned. Shoulders squared, chests thrust out, chins high, they marched through the office, down the hall, and to the lunchroom, where we discussed our project a little more loudly than usual, because we wanted to make sure the men heard. We would succeed.

 *********************************

We did succeed. We put the project to bed this morning, under budget and ahead of schedule, with a quality of work that would not have been exceeded if I had Andy and Ryan on my team. The women were all in my office, ready for the final meeting, this one a good deal more cheerful than the last. I held up the paper, the twenty-seven pages we filled at our last meeting. Connye brought a wastebasket. When the pages were in the basket, Portia produced a match. The fire flared, consuming the hatred, burning up the disrespect.

“I…are you sure that was a good idea?” Monica hesitated to question authority, so I was glad to hear her speak up. “I mean, we might need that…for evidence.”

I shook my head. “Don’t worry. That’s only a copy. It’s symbolic. I still have the original in my files.”

The office door creaked and a face peeked in, cautious and hesitant. It was Ed, the coordinator of projects. “Can I…come in?”

“No.” Portia stood firm, her arms crossed over her chest.

 “Yes.” I overruled her.

Ed entered, followed by the new owners. The older of the two, the father, Alabaster Wedgeworth Jr., was on his left, and the younger, the son, Alabaster Wedgeworth III, was on his right. The two men were silent as Ed crossed to my desk and laid a large envelope on the smooth surface. My belly nearly covered the envelope as I leaned over to pick it up. The room was the quietest it had ever been. I felt like my team was not breathing; I know I wasn’t able to breathe as I slit the envelope and slid the pages out to read. When I was done reading, I looked up. I hesitated. I allowed the tension to build.

“Ladies…we are…congratulated on our successful project. We have done what they believed we could not do…we have solved a problem that stumped the other team, the backup team, they had working on this project behind our backs…”

“Back up team?” Ed glowered. “How’d you know about that?”

“I’m not stupid…or blind”, was all I said. I turned back to my team. “We will all be receiving raises…and promotions. I have been promoted to the position of coordinator of projects.”

Ed gulped. Clearly he hadn’t known what was in the envelope. I had no idea what they were promoting…or demoting…him to, but I didn’t care. My team had succeeded. Our worth was recognized for the first time. The men who believed women shouldn’t be working, and who set us up to fail, had changed their minds. They were creating a whole new permanent unit made up of my team of women, who would be in charge of the most important, the most challenging of all the projects. We had shown we could do it, even while pregnant.

When the day was over, I left with a full heart and a buzzing head. We had risen to the challenge. Without any of the men, even without all the necessary skills on my team, we had learned and worked and done and impressed. We were not playing at being engineers, we were engineers. Now I was on my way home to a husband who had been trying to get back into my good graces ever since the day I slapped him. Perhaps tonight would be his chance.