I am a woman and I am not impressed by feminism

After 52 years of marriage my husband was diagnosed with severe dementia and admitted to a Memory Care Center near us. I continued to work and we spent the evenings together in the common room of the residence. We talked about our future. <br><br>This is a story about how a feminist, who had no idea what she wanted, kept her good husband from dying alone. <br><br>I was a feminist from the very start. I wanted to be independent and not have to rely on a man for anything. I went to college, graduated, and immediately landed my dream job. I had a little money in my savings and I thought, “wow this is easy.” I could have anything I wanted. I could have a great job and a good home and a good husband and a baby or two. <br><br>I had no trouble finding a man and getting him to propose. We were married. I worked and he worked. My husband went to college and became a teacher. I went to grad school and became a teacher. I lost my job, so I got a job in my husband’s school district. We were married. <br><br>After a few years I wanted to have a baby. I got pregnant and had a miscarriage at 5 months. We adored that little baby and grieved her death. Then we tried and tried and I couldn’t get pregnant. My husband and I were very close after that. I didn’t understand why a stupid baby was so important, but I wanted one. I convinced my husband to adopt and I got pregnant the next month. <br><br>I thought everything was perfect. I could have a job and a home and a husband and a baby. So I had the baby and when the maternity leave was over I had to go back to work. I wanted to stay home but I didn’t think I could depend on my husband to support me and our new baby. <br><br>After four years, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was working in a job I didn’t like. I had to leave my baby with a total stranger. I loved my job as a teacher, but it was so stressful I had to take off a year. I was 30 years old. I hated being a mom. I was ready to walk away from both jobs and be a stay-at-home mom. I told my husband I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t work and I couldn’t take care of our daughter. <br><br>My husband paid off our house and our car and our debt. He convinced me that we could live on his paycheck alone. So I quit my job. We had another baby and I got to stay home with both of them. My husband worked and I didn’t have to. <br><br>The babies were fun and I was happy. I was a better mom, and I loved my husband for giving me what I wanted. I didn’t have to work. My husband worked and I got to stay home. I learned to cook and clean and do what I wanted. My husband was a wonderful father. <br><br>Then my husband retired. So he came home and we were like newlyweds. He did anything I asked him to do. He helped me around the house. He was easy going and friendly and loving. <br><br>Then he got sick. He got Alzheimer’s and I took care of him. I got home care and then I got adult day care and then he went into a Memory Care Center. He didn’t know me anymore, but we spent every evening together. We ate dinner and watched movies and talked. <br><br>I love my husband. We had 52 years of marriage and 30 of them were absolutely perfect. I know that I didn’t deserve him. I made a mess of our first 20 years. But he was always loving and giving and good to me. After 52 years my husband didn’t have to die alone. <br><br>My husband had a good life. I kept my husband from dying alone. I didn’t need feminism for that.