Inside the red tent

There's a book that I'd recommend to anyone who enjoys reading and who wonders about some of the mysterious things that women do that seem like magic-- "The Red Tent", by Anita Diamant. It's Biblical fiction, which is sort of like historical fiction but involves either a religious bent or the people/characters (however you'd like to phrase it, I mean no insult) in the Bible. The story focuses on the wives and daughter of Jacob and the mysterious ties that women have to each other. The red tent referenced in the title is where the women go during their cycle, during childbirth/recovery, sickness... all the "mysterious" things. It delves deeply into the connection that women seem to have with each other-- an old, unbreakable bond that's forged from common experience (marriage, children, loss, etc.) and how powerful that can be.

I bring this up, because in a way, I'm getting to look into the red tent myself. I have never related to women very well. I don't enjoy using the term 'woman' or 'female' to describe myself-- it doesn't feel like it fits. Or even when it does, it fits like a shoe does on the wrong foot. It'll work, but it's not comfortable. But 'mommy'? I can get behind that one.

I've always been the one weirdo who's gone to hang out with the men, who's up to their elbows in an engine while the women are somehow mysteriously entertained, talking among themselves about children and their homes and all the other seemingly strange things that the women talked about. I remember asking the men, once, when I was small what exactly the women were chatting about up on the veranda. I distinctly remember the uncomfortable feeling that passed through the small group of men, the uncertain looks and the general answer of "Oh, you know. Women's things.". It was then that I *knew* there was some mystery that women had- some secret - that I just didn't understand. So I spent my years with the men, learning all the manly things. This isn't to say that I wasn't thoroughly taught how to be a good wife-- in fact, I was taught a little TOO well, if you were to ask my wonderful husband. We have a running joke in the household that I was trained to be a 40's housewife. Which, for those who know about the amazing people that raised me, is pretty much true. And it's also an indication of why my spending so much time with 'the men' was of note-- in the societal structure that I was raised, the women spent time with the women, and the men spent time with the men.

But I digress.

Since finding out about Eli (who seems to know I'm typing about him, kicky little man) and going through the last almost 7 months with this little life inside me, I've felt the beginnings of what I think is that mystery that only women know about. It's strange, suddenly being privy to this thing. To suddenly be able to bond with another human by uttering two words-- "I'm pregnant!". I've gotten looks into people's lives, their hearts-- the very things that make them up. I'm suddenly part of this world where women know all the secrets of making life, of bringing it into the world and of how to deal with the aches, pains and sometimes sadness that comes with it. The world of women is fascinating.

I still feel like a visitor to it, though. I know that I'm going to be a mother, and that feels like the most natural thing in the world to me. I never thought it would be- but it is. But I still seem to be wandering through these mysteries of being female with a guest pass. I don't know if I'll ever understand this innate magic that women seem to have, if I'll ever be able to wrap my brain around this connection that spans generations, decades, eras... but I'm getting to see into the tent, and it's fascinating.