A few months after my daughter (now 16 months) was born, I had her with me in my department, likely for a meeting with my dissertation adviser. A professor whom I had never met saw me, and, being an outgoing, friendly type, he proceeded to tell me about his daughter who was expecting, to tell me that two children is sufficient because that's one for each knee, and a number of other things that I have now forgotten. He asked me if I had any other children, and, as I responded affirmatively, he asked slyly, "They're not Irish twins, are they?" Now, I thought cluelessly, my husband is part Irish, but I'm not. Obviously, I had no idea what Irish twins are. Asked to explain, he informed me that Irish twins were siblings born within one year--which, of course, would be unlikely given the likelihood that impoverished Irish Catholics (he wasn't talking about Orangemen, after all) would be breastfed. A few minutes later, he repeated the joke for the benefit of my officemate, herself raised Catholic, and we agreed with good-natured disapproval that this was a thinly-veiled Catholic joke.
The joke evokes nineteenth-century immigrants with families of 5-12 children, overworked women, shabby brown clothing, tenement housing, clothes lines--you get the picture. So my question is, how do contemporary intellectual Catholic women deal with such a situation? Over the past couple of years, I have had at least three friends ask themselves this question in one way or another. All were working, one a Ph.D. student. Two were using NFP and one not. In these situations, "oops-s" or "what the heck" moments inevitably happen. So then what? One friend had been married for long enough that she could easily pass it off as "we've been trying" or "we were ready," or whatever. One friend decided that since she had been married for less than a year and people had just given her presents, she would ask not to have a baby shower.
This question comes to mind for a couple of reasons. First, well, people ask the most audacious questions! When I was pregnant last, the father of one of my son's friends from school saw us in Target, expressed surprise, and asked, "Were you trying, or was this a surprise?" One of the aforementioned friends remarked, as we discussed similar such remarks, "Do they realize that they're asking you whether you're having sex?"
O.K., so people are nosey. But it goes beyond that. In certain circles, it is just the unspoken rule that you should space your children according to your career goals. Hence, one female professor mentioning that her youngest was her "tenure baby," though it was unclear if he was the result of the celebrating, or her award for accomplishing the task! Within a year of my entering the M.A. program, one of my professors had her "last chance" baby, and two months after I had my daughter, my almost-adviser had her post-tenure baby. Others waited--and advised their grad students to wait--not until tenure, but until getting the tenure-track job. Recently, the female grad students in the department have decided that A.B.D. is a convenient time to have children, a decision I support wholeheartedly, obviously! But there is still somewhat of an unspoken consensus that children are to be spaced rather further apart that one to two years. While my "spacing"--a new baby with a 7-year-old--drew attention from a school dad (also a professional, incidently, but a professional father), spacing children every two years (considered ideal by those who are actively growing their families) is a professional faux pas. So what about Catholic professional/academic mothers?
Some, of course, believe that these terms are contradictory, and I could point you to the blogs to prove it. My friend who works at a Catholic high school has been condescendingly treated to the casual assumption that she would not be returning to work--EVER--by her colleagues for the last several months. But the role of Catholic women in the family is not my purpose for this post. Rather, I am embarrassed to admit that popular opinion is my concern.
Morality and Church teaching aside (though very much bound up with this post, as I hope is obvious), "accidents" are for teenagers, low-income households, minorities, and Catholics? All of these are stereotypes, but stereotypes which the average enlightened intellectual holds in the deep recesses of her politically correct heart. Just look at Amanda Marcotte.
This begs the question. . . Do married Catholic women really not belong in the workplace? This question is rhetorical. I do not expect an answer. Rather I am using the question to imply its answer--that of course married Catholic women belong in the workplace, if they so choose! So then, what about the "oops" factor? NFP "works," but people have different levels of resistance, and error and the Will of God are always factors! ;) Perhaps married Catholic females belong in the workplace to enlighten the masses, and should cling to the beatitudes for encouragement: that those who suffer mockery in the name of holiness will have their reward. But if asked, "You're pregnant again?" that's hardly an answer that will satisfy the average enlightened intellectual, provided the discussion occurs openly rather than in a series of sneers and snickers (yes, I am hard on my fellow academics). I have even encountered resistance to the motherhood-academic combination in Catholic academic circles (circles formed to discuss the intersection of faith and professional life!), so how much more should secular academics resist the Catholic academic's attempt to live her marriage faithfully, understanding its possible consequences (blessings)?
Large families and accidents--Catholic stereotypes both. Neither FEMLA, nor tenure procedures, nor enlightened liberalism allows for those realities. I don't know the answer, and I hate a cliff-hanger post. I further hate admitting that the sneering disturbs me. But it does. So while married professional women wait to reproduce until they reach their goals, what does the Catholic woman do? Stay home? Or not marry until after tenure/promotion?