About six years ago, when I first lived in Montreal, I had to fill out a form for a travel visa. The form was in French, the attendant was in French, and my French was rather rusty, having lived in English Canada for the entirety of my life up until that point. Still, forms are not exactly unpredictable, so I was able to fill most of it out. I saw a question I wasn’t able to translate. I pointed to the question and asked the attendant, “C’est comme ‘marital status’?”
She nodded yes. I couldn’t believe it had never occurred to me to find out the expression for “single” in French. So I asked her.
“Celibataire,” she said.
That didn’t sound quite right to me. After a brief and confusing discussion she said, “Just write single!”
This year, when I registered at the hospital for my pregnancy and birth, I had to fill out a form with my personal information, including the father’s relationship to me. Despite the fact that this province has the lowest marriage rate and the only legal swingers clubs in the country, the hospital’s computer system wasn’t exactly accommodating “alternative” relationships. The woman at the registration desk gave me my options: Mari (Husband), Ex-mari, Conjoint (Common-law spouse/live-in partner), or Ex-conjoint.
Until then the fact that my obstetrician’s hospital is called St. Mary’s hadn’t really meant anything to me. “Is there no space simply for ‘Father of baby,’ or ‘Friend’?” I asked. S and I have known each other for a decade and are close but we have never been so involved as to live together, nor do we have any immediate plans to do so. How about “Noncommittal lover but committed father-to-be?” I thought.
“What do people who don’t have a husband, partner, or ex do?”
“Usually they leave the father space blank altogether,” the woman remarked, as though the year were 1957, not 2007.
Well that wasn’t happening. So I went for “Ex-conjoint” and left it at that.
“So your marital status is…” the woman eyed me critically over her glasses.
“Celibataire,” I said.
It had sounded strange before, but now I was going to be “une maman celibataire.” It sounded about as logical in my own language as “virgin birth,” but many people have managed to accept that concept. Ironically, it is those same people who set up the hospital registration system that excludes our family from the realm of accepted possibilities.
Ah well, I never was good at fitting my life into a template on paper. I like the thought of my kids starting out life similarly undefined.
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