When someone makes a comment about rich doctors, I want to punch them.
The median med school tuition for last year according to AAMC is about $40,000. That is just tuition, not including room and board, academic expenses (some schools require laptop purchase), health insurance, or gas money. I think it's safe to tack on an extra $15,000. So that brings the grand total to $55,000 per year for four years. Doing the math: that's $220,000 in debt before you earn your MD. And that doesn't even count any debt from college.
You would think that after accumulating that kind of debt, you'd be able to go out an earn some money. Not so. My residency salary right out of medical school was $40,000 per year. Are you sick yet?
Then you do something insane like go and have a baby during residency. You need a bigger apartment and now a nanny or daycare. Once we had a child, my entire salary after taxes went directly to the nanny. But I accepted it, telling myself it was just temporary while I was in training.
I swore to myself that after I finished residency, I wouldn't worry about money anymore. Then I found a fellowship that I wanted so badly, but I knew the salary was nowhere near what I'd make in the private sector. It was a job I knew I'd love (and I really do), but part of me felt sick accepting it, considering the high cost of living around here.
So here I am, in my 9th year of medical training, still pinching pennies, making less than some of my friends made right out of college. Everyone asks me when I'm going to have a second child, but when I do the math, I simply can't afford it without having a negative monthly balance. I'm a doctor and I can only afford to have one child. Something about that seems a little off to me. People look at me weird when I say it.
I think to myself, "Did I do something wrong? Why am I still struggling to make ends meet?" I could moonlight, but that would involve working extra weekends, when I had vowed to spend more time with my daughter when residency finally ended.
I was at the ice cream store yesterday with my daughter. I was staring at the menu, struggling to decide if I wanted to pay an extra dollar to get the medium instead of the small. The small will be enough, I told myself, it's not worth the extra money. The ice cream is such a rip off. And as I contemplate this, I think to myself, "This is crazy, this is ridiculous, I shouldn't be worried about spending an extra dollar on ice cream... I'm a DOCTOR."
And then I get the small ice cream.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Looking to History for Mothers in Medicine
Here are few remarks excerpted from a talk I gave about a travelling National Library of Medicine exhibit on women in medicine that is currently at my school and may come to others. The exhibit is very worth a visit, even from an overbusy motherdoc. The students in the audience seemed to share my thoughts--many are struggling with the same concerns we have all had about integrating our many roles:
"I graduated from medical school in 1977. A picture of my class could have found a place on one of the panels of a history of medicine exhibit, as it was, I believe, the very first class at my medical school to have more than a token number of women—30% rather than 10% or fewer. What that meant to me concretely was that my male classmates could look around at their peers and professors themselves for models, inspiration on how to build a life and a career in medicine. In school, I could look to my peers for ideas on how to remove the smell of formaldehyde from my hands. Later they showed me how a woman can be an effective teacher or begin a research career, but for inspiration, I had to look backwards in time to the women sporadically flung up by the tides of history. Reading about the checkered history of strange and sometimes misguided study and treatment of disease by strange and sometimes misguided practitioners helped me form a realistic view of medicine, to lose the naïve assumption that one had to be a genius to enter this profession and that once in, one could never make a mistake.
Elizabeth Blackwell, of course, was the subject of various biographies for children that I read in elementary school and every other book about women in medicine that I read after that. I admired her determination and commitment, but I was always troubled by her detour away from what was called allopathic medicine into homeopathy, as well as by her unmarried and apparently unmarriageable state. In my college, which had originally been an all women’s school, I stumbled across Dr. Edward H. Clarke's publication Sex in Education; or, A Fair Chance for the Girls (1873). Clarke was a professor at the Harvard Medical School, and seems to have been panicked at the sight of blood. Aside from unbending prejudice, that was the only way I understand his argument that women were so weakened by the menstrual blood loss that they could not possibly tolerate the rigors of secondary education, much less enter any of the professions. He suggested all women should lie in a quiet room for a week every month, to conserve their strength to bear healthy children. Clarke’s contemporary on the faculty, Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr, clearly knew this was nonsense, but all he ever did to counter it was to state in his eulogy for Clarke that he knew Clarke sincerely believed in his own thesis. I was thrilled when I learned that Mary Putnam, another early woman physician, had demolished Clarke’s work by rigorous research conducted during her post graduate training in Paris. Her complete and influential refutation of Clarke in fact laid the groundwork for the creation of elite women’s colleges around the country, and accounts for the emphasis they placed on athletics as well as scholarship.
Still looking for models for myself, I was also very relieved to read that Putnam not only succeeded in influencing the whole of her profession, she also married and was the mother of two children. Still seeking a guide on my own path into medicine, I found her story a bit intimidating, given that I could not imagine having her commitment to science, or her critical intelligence. She saw clearly the inadequacies of her own training in the US, and went off to remedy that in nearly complete isolation from friends and family, not to mention other women physicians.
Regina Markel Morantz’ article comparing Elizabeth Blackwell and Mary Putnam Jacobi clarified a lot for me. These two women represented different poles of feminism—ones still relevant in my era in college in the 1970s and even today. Blackwell was a “difference” feminist who believed that women’s unique nature would lead them to be more understanding, more gentle and feminine in their professional practice. Ironically, since Blackwell herself was never a wife or mother, it was Putnam (Jacobi) who was what has been termed an “equity” feminist. Despite (or perhaps because) of her personal adoption of the conventional roles of wife and mother, she successfully argued and demonstrated that women deserved the same opportunities to achieve as men, given their equal abilities. I could only sit on the sidelines of history chanting the “right on!”, the 70s equivalent of “You go, girl!’, though I did become convinced that I could handle being in medicine, and would not have to abandon my hopes for a family as well."
I wonder if other bloggers find history as important as I do as a way of understanding the way our current context influences how we feel about ourselves and our choices?
"I graduated from medical school in 1977. A picture of my class could have found a place on one of the panels of a history of medicine exhibit, as it was, I believe, the very first class at my medical school to have more than a token number of women—30% rather than 10% or fewer. What that meant to me concretely was that my male classmates could look around at their peers and professors themselves for models, inspiration on how to build a life and a career in medicine. In school, I could look to my peers for ideas on how to remove the smell of formaldehyde from my hands. Later they showed me how a woman can be an effective teacher or begin a research career, but for inspiration, I had to look backwards in time to the women sporadically flung up by the tides of history. Reading about the checkered history of strange and sometimes misguided study and treatment of disease by strange and sometimes misguided practitioners helped me form a realistic view of medicine, to lose the naïve assumption that one had to be a genius to enter this profession and that once in, one could never make a mistake.
Elizabeth Blackwell, of course, was the subject of various biographies for children that I read in elementary school and every other book about women in medicine that I read after that. I admired her determination and commitment, but I was always troubled by her detour away from what was called allopathic medicine into homeopathy, as well as by her unmarried and apparently unmarriageable state. In my college, which had originally been an all women’s school, I stumbled across Dr. Edward H. Clarke's publication Sex in Education; or, A Fair Chance for the Girls (1873). Clarke was a professor at the Harvard Medical School, and seems to have been panicked at the sight of blood. Aside from unbending prejudice, that was the only way I understand his argument that women were so weakened by the menstrual blood loss that they could not possibly tolerate the rigors of secondary education, much less enter any of the professions. He suggested all women should lie in a quiet room for a week every month, to conserve their strength to bear healthy children. Clarke’s contemporary on the faculty, Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr, clearly knew this was nonsense, but all he ever did to counter it was to state in his eulogy for Clarke that he knew Clarke sincerely believed in his own thesis. I was thrilled when I learned that Mary Putnam, another early woman physician, had demolished Clarke’s work by rigorous research conducted during her post graduate training in Paris. Her complete and influential refutation of Clarke in fact laid the groundwork for the creation of elite women’s colleges around the country, and accounts for the emphasis they placed on athletics as well as scholarship.
Still looking for models for myself, I was also very relieved to read that Putnam not only succeeded in influencing the whole of her profession, she also married and was the mother of two children. Still seeking a guide on my own path into medicine, I found her story a bit intimidating, given that I could not imagine having her commitment to science, or her critical intelligence. She saw clearly the inadequacies of her own training in the US, and went off to remedy that in nearly complete isolation from friends and family, not to mention other women physicians.
Regina Markel Morantz’ article comparing Elizabeth Blackwell and Mary Putnam Jacobi clarified a lot for me. These two women represented different poles of feminism—ones still relevant in my era in college in the 1970s and even today. Blackwell was a “difference” feminist who believed that women’s unique nature would lead them to be more understanding, more gentle and feminine in their professional practice. Ironically, since Blackwell herself was never a wife or mother, it was Putnam (Jacobi) who was what has been termed an “equity” feminist. Despite (or perhaps because) of her personal adoption of the conventional roles of wife and mother, she successfully argued and demonstrated that women deserved the same opportunities to achieve as men, given their equal abilities. I could only sit on the sidelines of history chanting the “right on!”, the 70s equivalent of “You go, girl!’, though I did become convinced that I could handle being in medicine, and would not have to abandon my hopes for a family as well."
I wonder if other bloggers find history as important as I do as a way of understanding the way our current context influences how we feel about ourselves and our choices?
Monday, September 28, 2009
Guest Post: House of Cards
It really does take a village to get anything done.
I have a village all coordinated and well planned out to get done what I and my family need in order to get through each day. I even have decent scenarios for emergency coverage.
But not for tomorrow.
Tigercub 3 is feverish and needs to stay home tomorrow, again.
Nanny asked for tomorrow off a month ago for much needed personal issues.
Tigerdad will be out of town all day tomorrow from sun up to long after sun down.
And I have a weird thing on my skin and managed to get a coveted dermatology appointment for tomorrow afternoon perfectly timed for after my patients and before I have to pick up the cubs at school. Why? Because their blessed school has last minute after school coverage available.
But only for healthy cubs. So who can look after cub 3?
Mother in law can only cover part of the day.
My mother cannot do any part of the day.
So what to do?
Cancel all of my patients, of course.
And take the cub with me to the coveted derm appointment.
-Tigermom
Cross-posted at www.twowomenblogging.blogspot.com
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
MiM Mailbag: Family Dinners?
A study just released by the National Center on Addiction and Substance Abuse at Columbia University found that teenagers who have infrequent family dinners--less than three a week-- are more likely to drink, smoke, use marijuana and be able to get prescription drugs within an hour.
Are they a priority? Why? What extremes do you have to go to make them happen? If you can't pull them off regularly, do you feel guilty or defensive?
A reporter is interested in speaking with working parents of tweens and teens about family dinners. If you would like to be interviewed about your experiences, please email us at mothersinmedicine@gmail.com.
Are they a priority? Why? What extremes do you have to go to make them happen? If you can't pull them off regularly, do you feel guilty or defensive?
A reporter is interested in speaking with working parents of tweens and teens about family dinners. If you would like to be interviewed about your experiences, please email us at mothersinmedicine@gmail.com.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Flu shots
We took Melly to the pediatrician to get her flu shot today. I am absolutely insane when it comes to flu shots. As soon as September comes, I'm immediately looking around for my flu shot. I got an email at work saying that the flu shots would be available soon and I immediately sent back an email, saying, "Where? When will they be available? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHEN CAN I GET MY FLU SHOT??" They emailed me back, basically telling me to chill out.
So anyway, we were planning to take Melly to the aquarium today and got her all excited about it, then realized we had made an appointment for the flu shot today. Oops. So instead, we got her all excited about going to the "doptor." She hasn't been to a doctor in such a long time, I don't think she realizes that it's not something to get excited about.
The thing that made me nervous was that she knows Mommy is a "doptor." So I was really scared that when she got her shot, she was going to make that horrible connection and think that I was some sort of Mengele-like figure who was sticking needles in defenseless children all day.
So we got her into the room to get her shot. The nurse came in and with the needle and said to Melly, "Look at Mommy."
But she didn't look at me. She looked at the needle, fascinated. She looked at the needle as it went into her arm and the nurse injected her and then put on the band-aid.
And wouldn't you know it: NOT A PEEP.
In fact, she was totally excited to get the band-aid, then a second shiny band-aid for the cut on her knee, then an Elmo sticker. I thought she was going to freak out any second, but she left that office super-psyched about her Elmo sticker. I feel like she must be the first two year old in history not to cry during a vaccination. We both hugged her and told her how proud we were of her.
I kept thinking about how she watched that needle go into her arm with such fascination, and on the trip home, a thought suddenly occurred to me:
Me: "Melly, do you want to be a DOCTOR when you grow up?"
Melly: "No."
Oh well.
So anyway, we were planning to take Melly to the aquarium today and got her all excited about it, then realized we had made an appointment for the flu shot today. Oops. So instead, we got her all excited about going to the "doptor." She hasn't been to a doctor in such a long time, I don't think she realizes that it's not something to get excited about.
The thing that made me nervous was that she knows Mommy is a "doptor." So I was really scared that when she got her shot, she was going to make that horrible connection and think that I was some sort of Mengele-like figure who was sticking needles in defenseless children all day.
So we got her into the room to get her shot. The nurse came in and with the needle and said to Melly, "Look at Mommy."
But she didn't look at me. She looked at the needle, fascinated. She looked at the needle as it went into her arm and the nurse injected her and then put on the band-aid.
And wouldn't you know it: NOT A PEEP.
In fact, she was totally excited to get the band-aid, then a second shiny band-aid for the cut on her knee, then an Elmo sticker. I thought she was going to freak out any second, but she left that office super-psyched about her Elmo sticker. I feel like she must be the first two year old in history not to cry during a vaccination. We both hugged her and told her how proud we were of her.
I kept thinking about how she watched that needle go into her arm with such fascination, and on the trip home, a thought suddenly occurred to me:
Me: "Melly, do you want to be a DOCTOR when you grow up?"
Melly: "No."
Oh well.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Welcome to our MIM Childcare Topic Day
Topic days are days on MiM devoted to a single topic, featuring posts from many of our regular contributors as well as guest submissions. Today, the topic of the day is Childcare. We're writing about daycare and nannies, costs, wait lists, dreams and nightmares. Posts are scheduled throughout the day, so check back often!
Thanks to everyone who contributed!
Scroll down to find the posts...
Thanks to everyone who contributed!
Scroll down to find the posts...
Third time's a charm...Tempeh's 11th hour topic day post on childcare
I always remember Topic Day at 11pm on...Topic Day, so here I am, dead last.
Wow, I could write thousands of pages on this one, but since it's late and I am leaving for work in t-8 hrs, I'll focus on the nanny issue.
We started out with my firstborn in a reputable traditional daycare down the road from our house, which is about 45 minutes away from our jobs. With no traffic. That lasted all of 7 weeks, during which time my son (a winter baby) was sent home for three distinct infectious illnesses. When he started there, I was an oncology fellow and my husband was an internal medicine resident doing his ICU rotation. When we would get the alarm bell that my son had a fever of 101 and needed to be picked up within the hour, it was a panic to figure out if we could even GET THERE in an hour if we dropped the chart in our hands and ran. Not to mention that you really can't just leave as a resident or fellow. It was constant stress. When I walked in to pick him up one day unexpectedly early and found him lying on a mat on the floor crying while his "teacher" balanced her checkbook, that was it. I took him home and we never went back. Thank God it was a Friday!
After I finished crying for about 12 hours out of guilt over leaving him there, we called my mom to come and contacted a wonderful local nanny agency. In our desperation to find someone to watch our son in our home ASAP, we tried to persuade ourselves that her references, who said our nanny-to-be "was more emotionally needy than our preschool aged kids" and "left us abruptly when we told her we were pregnant with a second child," must have had an axe to grind. She was kindly and at ease with our almost 5 month old son, and he seemed to take to her even at the interview. SOLD! Within a few months, she self-referred for PT for "the earliest signs of carpal tunnel syndrome" and started scheduling her PT appointments during her work hours because that was the time slot her preferred therapist in the practice had open. It would often take me an hour or more to get out of the house in the morning because she wanted to talk about some, usually quite minor, mishap in her day. Invariably, she would cry and want hugs--like actual hugs--which I would patiently deliver day after day while watching the minutes of my already very short workday (the fact that we decided to hire her only 26 hours per week will be a topic for another time) tick down over her shoulder on our kitchen clock. When we unexpectedly got pregnant with our second child when our son was 9 months old and shared this news at about 20 weeks gestation, she told us the following morning that she was quitting due to her worsening carpal tunnel and was gone a week later. She did stop by a couple of months later reportedly just to say hello. I noticed she was still wearing her splint. She told me that she missed nannying and had just come from an interview with another family who had one baby boy and lived just a few minutes from us. That was what had made her think of us. They called for a reference shortly after she left. When they asked why she had left us and I mentioned that her carpal tunnel had gotten worse, the mom said, "What carpal tunnel?" I asked whether she hadn't noticed the splint. Turns out she wasn't wearing the splint at the interview. The mom mentioned that she was almost 40 and wanted to try to get pregnant with another child within the next few months. My advice to her: "Run! Save yourself!" Lesson 1: Believe the references. Nanny history repeats itself!
For our second nanny, we decided that it wasn't worth paying the steep nanny agency referral fee a second time. We used an online DIY type of nanny agency called enannysource. It let us post a family profile with as much or as little detail about our family and our needs as we wanted. And we could search nanny profiles by the same details in our zip code. Like magic, a 36 yr old woman, the mother of a 9 yr old boy, saw our profile and emailed us to express interest within 24 hrs. She came to interview the following day. She had a degree in early childhood education but had never worked because her son was born shortly after she graduated college. She had gotten divorced due to marital stress over her son's medical issues (he was deaf, bipolar, and on the autism spectrum) when her son was a toddler and had remarried within the past few months. She was young, energetic, direct, and clearly a very devoted mom, which I thought would bode well for us since we were hiring her to be sort of a part-time mom. We were a little worried that her son's issues could cause her to be pulled in two directions, but what mom isn't? So we put it out of our minds. We needed a nanny, and she was otherwise perfect. I was visibly pregnant with my second child, which did not daunt her one iota. Ahhh, I thought, she'll stay with our family forever. So we hired her. Flash forward a few months, and there we were: scrambling to get home over and over because her son needed to be picked up from school or because he had a doctor's appointment or because his school was closing early for snow, etc. All reasonable, all issues we ourselves faced as parents. We felt like hypocrites to say anything about it. We knew how hard it was. A few months later, I gave birth to my daughter, and she fell madly in love with her. So in love, in fact, that she decided she actually wanted one too. Six weeks later, she unexpectedly dropped in at dinnertime with her husband and son to tell us that--GREAT NEWS, YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE IT!!--she was about 1 minute pregnant, and they were over the moon. The next several months were a marathon with hurdles--morning sickness that made her unable to stand the smell of our kids' diapers, insomnia making her emotionally unable to deal with our tantruming toddler and colicky daughter, and ultimately, the deal breaker, back pain that got worse with having to carry our kids around. Lesson 2: If your nanny has kids of her own without iron-clad childcare, and you/your spouse don't have a VERY flexible job, you are in for trouble. Lesson 2, subpart 1: It may be illegal to ask a nanny of childbearing age if she plans to get pregnant (unless she brings up the topic first), but it's not illegal to talk about it at night in bed with your husband if your nanny candidate is in her late 30s and newly married. Especially if you have or are about to have a delicious little newborn who could plant such a seed in her fertile brain.
For nanny #3, we again went back to enannysource. This time, I was wiser. I spent hours and hours every night after our kids went to bed sifting through nanny profiles, word-smithing our family profile, reading between the lines both ways. It took us almost 5 months to hire our next nanny during which we officially used up every favor we were ever owed and got a 40 yr or so advance on future favors with our parents, siblings, friends, and a few babysitters turned temp nannies where they were available. To say that it was stressful doesn't even begin to describe it. Fortunately, we had reached a point in our training when we had more flexibility so we could arrange to go in early and come home early and the other spouse go in late and come home late. It wasn't easy, but we made it work. When we met our third nanny, whom I had emailed back and forth repeatedly and interviewed by phone (along with dozens of others) for about 90 mins before bothering to invite her to our home, we knew that was it. She was 26 yrs old, single, energetic, had taught in the public school system but wanted to work with kids on a more individual basis, and she shared our values. Her references, which weren't really in childcare, loved her across the board. Over and over, they described her as loyal, reliable, honest, flexible, optimistic. Music to our ears. Our only reservation was that she was kind of...well, sloppy. But, we said, we can live with that. And when she described what she had done with kids at an in-home daycare she had worked at several years prior, we noticed that all of the activities sounded like...well, a huge mess. We had a moment of reservation as we surveyed our light carpet and pastel-colored sofa and chairs, but, hey, kids are washable, and that's the fun of being a kid. Our shy then 2.5 year old son kissed her goodbye at the end of the interview! We hired her. That was 3+ yrs ago, and she has been an absolute joy to have in our family. She loves our kids, makes them handmade gifts for every birthday and Christmas, remembers my son's Epipen and chases me up the driveway with it when I forget, and is more patient and creative than I will ever be. She even makes us dinner when she knows we are going to come home exhausted, which is more often than not. She joined the Y so she could take our now third child, who is a complete water baby, swimming while the older two are at kindergarten and preschool. She is loyal, reliable, honest, flexible, and optimistic. Our only complaint: she's...well, sloppy. And the things she does with the kids--things like painting refrigerator boxes with non-washable tempera paint on our kitchen floor--are...well, a huge mess. But, hey, we can live with that. Lesson #3: Trust your instincts. Know the things that are deal-breakers for you. And the things that aren't. And see lesson #1!
Which reminds me, A, that you deserve a raise!
Wow, I could write thousands of pages on this one, but since it's late and I am leaving for work in t-8 hrs, I'll focus on the nanny issue.
We started out with my firstborn in a reputable traditional daycare down the road from our house, which is about 45 minutes away from our jobs. With no traffic. That lasted all of 7 weeks, during which time my son (a winter baby) was sent home for three distinct infectious illnesses. When he started there, I was an oncology fellow and my husband was an internal medicine resident doing his ICU rotation. When we would get the alarm bell that my son had a fever of 101 and needed to be picked up within the hour, it was a panic to figure out if we could even GET THERE in an hour if we dropped the chart in our hands and ran. Not to mention that you really can't just leave as a resident or fellow. It was constant stress. When I walked in to pick him up one day unexpectedly early and found him lying on a mat on the floor crying while his "teacher" balanced her checkbook, that was it. I took him home and we never went back. Thank God it was a Friday!
After I finished crying for about 12 hours out of guilt over leaving him there, we called my mom to come and contacted a wonderful local nanny agency. In our desperation to find someone to watch our son in our home ASAP, we tried to persuade ourselves that her references, who said our nanny-to-be "was more emotionally needy than our preschool aged kids" and "left us abruptly when we told her we were pregnant with a second child," must have had an axe to grind. She was kindly and at ease with our almost 5 month old son, and he seemed to take to her even at the interview. SOLD! Within a few months, she self-referred for PT for "the earliest signs of carpal tunnel syndrome" and started scheduling her PT appointments during her work hours because that was the time slot her preferred therapist in the practice had open. It would often take me an hour or more to get out of the house in the morning because she wanted to talk about some, usually quite minor, mishap in her day. Invariably, she would cry and want hugs--like actual hugs--which I would patiently deliver day after day while watching the minutes of my already very short workday (the fact that we decided to hire her only 26 hours per week will be a topic for another time) tick down over her shoulder on our kitchen clock. When we unexpectedly got pregnant with our second child when our son was 9 months old and shared this news at about 20 weeks gestation, she told us the following morning that she was quitting due to her worsening carpal tunnel and was gone a week later. She did stop by a couple of months later reportedly just to say hello. I noticed she was still wearing her splint. She told me that she missed nannying and had just come from an interview with another family who had one baby boy and lived just a few minutes from us. That was what had made her think of us. They called for a reference shortly after she left. When they asked why she had left us and I mentioned that her carpal tunnel had gotten worse, the mom said, "What carpal tunnel?" I asked whether she hadn't noticed the splint. Turns out she wasn't wearing the splint at the interview. The mom mentioned that she was almost 40 and wanted to try to get pregnant with another child within the next few months. My advice to her: "Run! Save yourself!" Lesson 1: Believe the references. Nanny history repeats itself!
For our second nanny, we decided that it wasn't worth paying the steep nanny agency referral fee a second time. We used an online DIY type of nanny agency called enannysource. It let us post a family profile with as much or as little detail about our family and our needs as we wanted. And we could search nanny profiles by the same details in our zip code. Like magic, a 36 yr old woman, the mother of a 9 yr old boy, saw our profile and emailed us to express interest within 24 hrs. She came to interview the following day. She had a degree in early childhood education but had never worked because her son was born shortly after she graduated college. She had gotten divorced due to marital stress over her son's medical issues (he was deaf, bipolar, and on the autism spectrum) when her son was a toddler and had remarried within the past few months. She was young, energetic, direct, and clearly a very devoted mom, which I thought would bode well for us since we were hiring her to be sort of a part-time mom. We were a little worried that her son's issues could cause her to be pulled in two directions, but what mom isn't? So we put it out of our minds. We needed a nanny, and she was otherwise perfect. I was visibly pregnant with my second child, which did not daunt her one iota. Ahhh, I thought, she'll stay with our family forever. So we hired her. Flash forward a few months, and there we were: scrambling to get home over and over because her son needed to be picked up from school or because he had a doctor's appointment or because his school was closing early for snow, etc. All reasonable, all issues we ourselves faced as parents. We felt like hypocrites to say anything about it. We knew how hard it was. A few months later, I gave birth to my daughter, and she fell madly in love with her. So in love, in fact, that she decided she actually wanted one too. Six weeks later, she unexpectedly dropped in at dinnertime with her husband and son to tell us that--GREAT NEWS, YOU'LL NEVER BELIEVE IT!!--she was about 1 minute pregnant, and they were over the moon. The next several months were a marathon with hurdles--morning sickness that made her unable to stand the smell of our kids' diapers, insomnia making her emotionally unable to deal with our tantruming toddler and colicky daughter, and ultimately, the deal breaker, back pain that got worse with having to carry our kids around. Lesson 2: If your nanny has kids of her own without iron-clad childcare, and you/your spouse don't have a VERY flexible job, you are in for trouble. Lesson 2, subpart 1: It may be illegal to ask a nanny of childbearing age if she plans to get pregnant (unless she brings up the topic first), but it's not illegal to talk about it at night in bed with your husband if your nanny candidate is in her late 30s and newly married. Especially if you have or are about to have a delicious little newborn who could plant such a seed in her fertile brain.
For nanny #3, we again went back to enannysource. This time, I was wiser. I spent hours and hours every night after our kids went to bed sifting through nanny profiles, word-smithing our family profile, reading between the lines both ways. It took us almost 5 months to hire our next nanny during which we officially used up every favor we were ever owed and got a 40 yr or so advance on future favors with our parents, siblings, friends, and a few babysitters turned temp nannies where they were available. To say that it was stressful doesn't even begin to describe it. Fortunately, we had reached a point in our training when we had more flexibility so we could arrange to go in early and come home early and the other spouse go in late and come home late. It wasn't easy, but we made it work. When we met our third nanny, whom I had emailed back and forth repeatedly and interviewed by phone (along with dozens of others) for about 90 mins before bothering to invite her to our home, we knew that was it. She was 26 yrs old, single, energetic, had taught in the public school system but wanted to work with kids on a more individual basis, and she shared our values. Her references, which weren't really in childcare, loved her across the board. Over and over, they described her as loyal, reliable, honest, flexible, optimistic. Music to our ears. Our only reservation was that she was kind of...well, sloppy. But, we said, we can live with that. And when she described what she had done with kids at an in-home daycare she had worked at several years prior, we noticed that all of the activities sounded like...well, a huge mess. We had a moment of reservation as we surveyed our light carpet and pastel-colored sofa and chairs, but, hey, kids are washable, and that's the fun of being a kid. Our shy then 2.5 year old son kissed her goodbye at the end of the interview! We hired her. That was 3+ yrs ago, and she has been an absolute joy to have in our family. She loves our kids, makes them handmade gifts for every birthday and Christmas, remembers my son's Epipen and chases me up the driveway with it when I forget, and is more patient and creative than I will ever be. She even makes us dinner when she knows we are going to come home exhausted, which is more often than not. She joined the Y so she could take our now third child, who is a complete water baby, swimming while the older two are at kindergarten and preschool. She is loyal, reliable, honest, flexible, and optimistic. Our only complaint: she's...well, sloppy. And the things she does with the kids--things like painting refrigerator boxes with non-washable tempera paint on our kitchen floor--are...well, a huge mess. But, hey, we can live with that. Lesson #3: Trust your instincts. Know the things that are deal-breakers for you. And the things that aren't. And see lesson #1!
Which reminds me, A, that you deserve a raise!
Admitting I need help
I recently let me my nanny of four years go, just after having my third kid - yes, I know it sounds crazy but I was having an identity crisis. I decided to take an extended leave from work to enjoy being 'mom' and I was sure that with the older kids (4 yrs and 2yrs) being in school half days that I could manage without help. I've always thought that I can do more than what's normal, in fact, now that I think about it, I think I define myself by being able to go 'above and beyond the call of duty'. Well, sadly I was wrong. I struggled through two months of life with the three kids and found myself tired, disorganized, snapping at my kids, craving time with my husband and over-using my Mom for help.
I've finally come around to the conclusion that it's precisely because I want to be a great Mom that I need help at home.
The challenge is not just finding one, but also managing one. I had a nanny for four years and despite my ability to manage difficult patients on an internal medicine ward, challenging residents in a large academic program and three kids with all different needs (well 4 kids if you count my husband), I find that it is the most challenging to manage my nanny. I realize now it has a lot to do with mother's guilt. I just do not want to see my nanny as an employee, a housekeeper or a babysitter. I want to see her as an extension of myself so that I can say to myself, that my kids are in good hands. For a long time I had a problem with the thought that the same person who would look after my kids would clean my bathrooms - so for a long time, I didn't ask my nanny to do anything but look after the kids. But this meant that when I would come home from work, I would do all the housework while she continued to play with the kids - something is wrong with that picture!
So as I now look for a new nanny, I have come to terms with the fact that firstly, I need help and second, that I need someone who will look after my kids AND my house. I met a family today visiting from Pakistan. The Mom had 3 kids exactly the same age as mine and she said she doesn't know how I do it - because where she lives, there is so much help - for the house and for the kids. She said, where she lives, it's easy to have three kids! After meeting her and after a long few months without help, I now can comfortably say that I need help with both my kids AND my home.
I've finally come around to the conclusion that it's precisely because I want to be a great Mom that I need help at home.
The challenge is not just finding one, but also managing one. I had a nanny for four years and despite my ability to manage difficult patients on an internal medicine ward, challenging residents in a large academic program and three kids with all different needs (well 4 kids if you count my husband), I find that it is the most challenging to manage my nanny. I realize now it has a lot to do with mother's guilt. I just do not want to see my nanny as an employee, a housekeeper or a babysitter. I want to see her as an extension of myself so that I can say to myself, that my kids are in good hands. For a long time I had a problem with the thought that the same person who would look after my kids would clean my bathrooms - so for a long time, I didn't ask my nanny to do anything but look after the kids. But this meant that when I would come home from work, I would do all the housework while she continued to play with the kids - something is wrong with that picture!
So as I now look for a new nanny, I have come to terms with the fact that firstly, I need help and second, that I need someone who will look after my kids AND my house. I met a family today visiting from Pakistan. The Mom had 3 kids exactly the same age as mine and she said she doesn't know how I do it - because where she lives, there is so much help - for the house and for the kids. She said, where she lives, it's easy to have three kids! After meeting her and after a long few months without help, I now can comfortably say that I need help with both my kids AND my home.
I put an embryo on a daycare waitlist
September 2001
One year and three months into a two-year residency, I give birth to my daughter. I am eligible for one year of maternity leave, and have every intention of staying home with my sweet, big-eyed Saskia for all fifty-two weeks.* Pete and I haven't yet decided what we'll do for childcare when the year is up, but daycare isn't even on the table. I grew up understanding that daycare was for the unfortunate children of selfish mothers. It was fact, just as neighbours who mowed their lawns on Sundays could not be Christians.
January 2002
I sit at the desk in our loft, looking at a list of home daycares. The nine remaining months of residency loom over my days with my infant daughter. I have an irrational fear that I will have a series of consecutive pregnancies - defying all contraceptive measures - causing a perma-maternity leave and precluding any possibility of ever finishing residency. I am desperate to be done with it.
My residency program agrees to my request to return half-time, five mornings a week. We have no family nearby, a nanny seems like overkill and I am prejudiced towards group daycare, so in-home daycare seems like the best option.
Saskia lies on a blanket on the floor next to my desk in a fuzzy purple sleeper, arms waving, and as I dial the first number I feel sick to my stomach. It remains one of the most profoundly distressing moments of my life.
I dial and wait for the kind voice of soft, grey-haired caregiver. A man answers instead, hands the phone to his wife. I can't do it. I imagine my daughter in a stranger's basement rec room, husband and teenage sons coming and going, and I hang up.
I resort to calling institutional daycares. The only one that has an opening is attached to the local high school and cares for the infants of teen mothers so they can stay in school. I take it.
February 2002
It is a relief to be back in residency, end in sight. I love immersing myself in medicine again, and trundling Saskia home in the stroller in the early afternoon is ideal. I do have some anxieties. After the first week of daycare I marvel that she hasn't been abducted from the centre yet. Somehow it seemed that the moment she left my arms she would be in imminent danger.
Months later, a video of the daycare is shown at a gathering of Vancouver's who's who to raise funds for the support of teenage mothers. Several physicians recognize me in the footage and are confused.
Summer 2002
I've waitlisted Saskia at all the best daycares in Vancouver. A spot opens up at my top choice, a daycare attached to a hospital that has an infant, toddler and preschool division. Now I sign in Saskia and hang up her poncho alongside colleagues in medicine, research and physiotherapy instead of fifteen-year-olds.
We bring Saskia every day to energetic ECE-certified women who love their jobs. The child-teacher ratio ranges from 1:3 in the infant room to 1:4 in the preschool. Daycare doesn't call in sick, move out of town or take vacation. Saskia thrives and we are relieved and grateful.
2003
I finish residency. We reduce Saskia's childcare to two days a week and I work part-time.
I conceive and put the embryo on the daycare wait list. Eight weeks later we announce the pregnancy to our parents.
Spring 2005
A spot opens for my three-month-old son, but he's not eligible to attend until he's six months old. To retain it I pay full daycare fees for those months. I am ashamed that we resort to this, but it's common practice in daycare situations and the truth is, we'll do almost anything to get and keep a spot in a daycare with over eight hundred families on the waitlist.
When Leif finally joins the daycare, his caregivers in the infant room are the same ones that cared for my daughter three years ago. There has been virtually no turnover. They love him as they did my daughter.
Summer 2006
We move to Deep Cove, a half hour away from the daycare, and don't even consider changing our charmed childcare situation. Daycare close to work is much more convenient that daycare close to home, anyway.
I have my third child, Ariana, and we repeat the embryonic registration and retainer fee scenario that occurred with Leif.
September 16, 2009
My two oldest are in school, and Ariana still attends the same daycare two days a week, taught by the same teachers that cared for Saskia and Leif. I've been buzzing myself through that red front door with a little backpack on my arm for over seven years now. It's a comfortable part of our routine. So comfortable, in fact, that - behind on laundry this week - I sent Ariana to daycare in a pair of her brother's briefs, knowing I wouldn't hear a whisper of judgment.
* I am Canadian
One year and three months into a two-year residency, I give birth to my daughter. I am eligible for one year of maternity leave, and have every intention of staying home with my sweet, big-eyed Saskia for all fifty-two weeks.* Pete and I haven't yet decided what we'll do for childcare when the year is up, but daycare isn't even on the table. I grew up understanding that daycare was for the unfortunate children of selfish mothers. It was fact, just as neighbours who mowed their lawns on Sundays could not be Christians.
January 2002
I sit at the desk in our loft, looking at a list of home daycares. The nine remaining months of residency loom over my days with my infant daughter. I have an irrational fear that I will have a series of consecutive pregnancies - defying all contraceptive measures - causing a perma-maternity leave and precluding any possibility of ever finishing residency. I am desperate to be done with it.
My residency program agrees to my request to return half-time, five mornings a week. We have no family nearby, a nanny seems like overkill and I am prejudiced towards group daycare, so in-home daycare seems like the best option.
Saskia lies on a blanket on the floor next to my desk in a fuzzy purple sleeper, arms waving, and as I dial the first number I feel sick to my stomach. It remains one of the most profoundly distressing moments of my life.
I dial and wait for the kind voice of soft, grey-haired caregiver. A man answers instead, hands the phone to his wife. I can't do it. I imagine my daughter in a stranger's basement rec room, husband and teenage sons coming and going, and I hang up.
I resort to calling institutional daycares. The only one that has an opening is attached to the local high school and cares for the infants of teen mothers so they can stay in school. I take it.
February 2002
It is a relief to be back in residency, end in sight. I love immersing myself in medicine again, and trundling Saskia home in the stroller in the early afternoon is ideal. I do have some anxieties. After the first week of daycare I marvel that she hasn't been abducted from the centre yet. Somehow it seemed that the moment she left my arms she would be in imminent danger.
Months later, a video of the daycare is shown at a gathering of Vancouver's who's who to raise funds for the support of teenage mothers. Several physicians recognize me in the footage and are confused.
Summer 2002
I've waitlisted Saskia at all the best daycares in Vancouver. A spot opens up at my top choice, a daycare attached to a hospital that has an infant, toddler and preschool division. Now I sign in Saskia and hang up her poncho alongside colleagues in medicine, research and physiotherapy instead of fifteen-year-olds.
We bring Saskia every day to energetic ECE-certified women who love their jobs. The child-teacher ratio ranges from 1:3 in the infant room to 1:4 in the preschool. Daycare doesn't call in sick, move out of town or take vacation. Saskia thrives and we are relieved and grateful.
2003
I finish residency. We reduce Saskia's childcare to two days a week and I work part-time.
I conceive and put the embryo on the daycare wait list. Eight weeks later we announce the pregnancy to our parents.
Spring 2005
A spot opens for my three-month-old son, but he's not eligible to attend until he's six months old. To retain it I pay full daycare fees for those months. I am ashamed that we resort to this, but it's common practice in daycare situations and the truth is, we'll do almost anything to get and keep a spot in a daycare with over eight hundred families on the waitlist.
When Leif finally joins the daycare, his caregivers in the infant room are the same ones that cared for my daughter three years ago. There has been virtually no turnover. They love him as they did my daughter.
Summer 2006
We move to Deep Cove, a half hour away from the daycare, and don't even consider changing our charmed childcare situation. Daycare close to work is much more convenient that daycare close to home, anyway.
I have my third child, Ariana, and we repeat the embryonic registration and retainer fee scenario that occurred with Leif.
September 16, 2009
My two oldest are in school, and Ariana still attends the same daycare two days a week, taught by the same teachers that cared for Saskia and Leif. I've been buzzing myself through that red front door with a little backpack on my arm for over seven years now. It's a comfortable part of our routine. So comfortable, in fact, that - behind on laundry this week - I sent Ariana to daycare in a pair of her brother's briefs, knowing I wouldn't hear a whisper of judgment.
* I am Canadian
Drop offs and pick ups
Day care, preschool, kindergarten, after hours (and before hours, which we have not yet needed)... it is almost too overwhelming to reflect upon. We've been fortunate to have had very caring providers, some smart, some funny, some artistic, some traditional, and most of all interested in the growth, development, and well being of our kids. Perhaps it is my hypothetical pink contact lenses which make the situation seem so rosy, ultimately along the lines of "it's got to be good" because we didn't have too many other options! Initially no relatives nearby. And our being a Mother and Father in Medicine.
I did two years of drop offs and pick ups when Now Five was our Only, and in a day care center right next door to Mommy's work. It's coming back to me now, indeed I could not contain myself, literally I could not stop bawling when I visited the center, the week prior to the very first drop off (that was over 5 years ago!). But my huge outpouring of emotion (so many tears I could have dehydrated myself) was therapeutic and allowed me to feel good, subsequently, in time. Breastfeeding and providing pumped breast milk helped maintain our special bond.
Two years later along came her brother and a new job for my husband, and a fabulous new daycare ("school") for both kids. NAEYC accreditated and all that jazz, and it was jazzy in a low key sort of way. From that point on my husband became the main dropper offer and picker upper since it was next door to Daddy's work. Though I made sure to pick up at least twice a week so I could see, help, do, share.
I remember fondly those child care providers who were easy to talk with and be with, who gave me unsolicited pictures of my kids caught in the act of having fun, who taught me things (any interest in "stool withholding" for another topic day???), who taught my kids. Early lessons in social interactions. Early lessons in graham crackers and not having peanut butter. Other lessons like sharing is good, but it's not good to share your lunch (again, it may have peanut butter in it!). And, alas, the other less interesting providers do not loom large in my memories.
There were the many opportunities for field trips, some we could attend, some we heartbreakingly (ours and theirs) couldn't. And the performances, school birthdays, and holiday parties. International Day, fire drills, Music, Dance, even Yoga, all at the day care. And the fevers (fortunately few and far between) and the rare snow days. Enjoyed many of the other parents too (good thing, since birthday parties are with parental accompanyment at these early ages).
Never picked up too late, officially speaking, but then again, sometime not quite early enough. Often late for work, but that's the new normal. And did some "work" at daycare, discussing pediatric matters and other practical medical advice when asked.
Was it all rosy? At least the least desirable aspects have become funny with time. And eventually, you rush out of work and in traffic to pick up and find your little ones immersed in an activity, oh so important that you could come back in a few, take 5. Did I wish they weren't at day care? Not once I saw how much enjoyment they got from the interactions with their peers and teachers. Did I sometimes wish they weren't there for so long in the day? To this I'll admit. But then that's where the skipping out early and catching up on things after they go to bed comes in. Late bedtimes for napping daycare attendees and working parents, that's another story. Zzzzzz
Days and Days of Day Care
It is amazing to see the variety of available child-care options that are available to working parents. For our family, we carefully considered all options when I was pregnant with CindyLou. I was a resident, with very limited maternity leave (unless I wanted to prolong my residency training...I didn't) and my husband was moving up in the finance industry. We had no family immediately available, and, I am not sure if I saw one too many "Hand That Rocks the Cradle" -type movies, or what, but I was not comfortable bringing a stranger into our home to raise, shape, and mold our precious young child. What can I say (the lady tried to *breastfeed* that kid!!!)? I'm an alarmist, but Mr. Whoo felt the same way. So, we settled on out-of-home care, or, the dreaded "day care." I felt that the group setting held certain safety and social advantages over home care. For us, looking at certifications like NAEYC helped us to stratify centers, then we carefully would visit and observe. CindyLou's first day care was in a church-run facility. They had NAEYC accreditation, individual door codes for each child and family, and an "open door" policy. We loved the staff, and, as much as a small infant could, CindyLou thrived there.
After residency, we completely lucked into a top-notch facility, meant mainly for government workers, but they would sometimes open slots to the slovenly masses if they moved far enough down the food chain. This place was like Fort Knox, and you needed 24 hour security clearance (with armed guards at all entrances to the property) just to get onto the campus. Needless to say, we felt she was safe there. In addition, we were really impressed with the facility, staff, and, get this, curriculum. Who knew that day care could have a *curriculum?* We fell into the habit early of calling day care "school" and her care providers her "teachers." She was learning so much, it was easy to do. Socially, we felt that the exposure to different children and personalities was a plus for our outgoing child. Academically, we felt she was always challenged and she came home talking about things that she had learned we would have otherwise thought beyond her level. There were daily progress reports and periodic "parent-teacher" conferences. We always felt well informed about her day to day life in "school." Some downsides were the strict regimentation of protocols, and, as a Gubment agency, an inordinate amount of "days off" that were not necessarily days off for me. Fortunately, once the Bean came along, siblings were given priority, so he was also placed in the same center. We never felt badly leaving them in the care of the staff of the center, and over the 4 years we were there, they, the other parents, and other children came to feel like more of a family. It was a sad day when we had to leave them.
Now, here in Newville, CindyLou is in Kindergarten (for which I feel she was well prepared due to her day care "curriculum") during the days, and after school goes to a private program in the same pre-school in which the Bean is enrolled full time. In her after-school program, she has structured homework help, a place to go on those odd "holidays," and, in the summer, a fun, camp-like experience with lots of activities and field trips. This facility prides itself on being called a "school" rather than a "day care" so it gelled well with our overall philosophy. However, it is quite a bit more expensive (to the tune of $300 extra a month, and that is without CindyLou being enrolled as a "full time" student), but we can also attribute that to the area of country to which we have moved.
After several unstructured weeks off, and being out of the routine, the structure of the school-like environment was a welcome change for all of us. After a week or so of separation anxiety, we have finally gotten back into the daily groove. Bean can't wait to tell us each day how he loved reading books, playing outside, Spanish class (!!), and, most of all, playing with his friends. So, for us, careful research and quite a bit of good luck have lead to an all-around favorable experience with out-of-home care. For our family, the social interaction, structured learning, varied daily experiences, and caring staff members have made leaving our little ones behind as we make our way in the world just a bit more bearable.
Flexibility is Key: Change is OK
The take home message from the following, for those who don't have time to read the whole post: Don't be afraid to change childcare when your child's needs change...or if your care provider pisses you off. We've been flexible, and that has served our children well.
When Son was born, I was a resident and husband traveled most of the weeks of the year. I needed flexible child care, but we couldn't afford a live-in. We chose Lourdes, a wonderful grandmotherly woman from Ecuador who lived just a few blocks from the hospital. She had watched my niece and we were comfortable with her.
She spoke Spanish in her home and spent 99% of her day holding our baby. Whenever I picked him up, he was clean because she and gave him baths several times a week. When Daughter came along, I couldn't believe how much I had to bathe her. I didn't bathe Son more than a dozen times in his first two years of life.
I could call her at 6pm and tell her I had a patient in labor and wasn't sure when I'd be able to pick Son up and she'd say, "Mamacita, let me keep him overnight...please?" We never did that, because we are lucky to have so many friends and family members who would pick him up in our absence.
When he was two, we clearly saw that Lourdes was more a "baby" person than a kid person. We wanted a bit more structure. We switched him to a highly recommended preschool near the hospital. The owner, a Russian immigrant, ran a very, very tight ship. Son spent a lot (a lot!) of time in "time out" but seemed happy overall.
I, however, needed to grit my teeth and practice deep breathing when the teacher would critique my parenting in front of him, other children, other parents. I tolerated it because it was better to keep him in one place than to move him again. She saw every one of his age-appropriate rule infarctions as evidence that I, a "woman doctor" (which she said as though she was spitting the words) did not spend enough time with him.
Finally, after he had been there about 18 months, I asked her for a note of support for our adoption home study. She told me in front of Son that she couldn't recommend we bring another child into our family to neglect it like we had Son. That was it. We gave our notice and moved Son to my new hospital's award-winning child care center.
Having Son, and then Daughter, at the hospital was a dream come true. I occasionally wandered over to the center after lunch to say hello to them then went back to complete my rounds. Alas, the job ended (and for that I thank God on a daily basis!) and I couldn't leave them there.
We moved Son to a new preschool. He actually attended the first day it was open. It is run by a PhD in early childhood education who hires only teachers with baccalaureates in some related field - music, teaching, psychology. It is across the hall from an autism training center, and part of each day the regular kids and the autistic kids get together for activities. The new school is very small and currently there is a 3:1 child to teacher ratio any given day. When Son goes to kindergarten next year, he will benefit from the intensely individualized curriculum at this school.
Daughter, on the other hand, is too young for Son's school, though she'll start there when she is 2-1/2. Until then, she is happy in the home of a neighbor who runs a licensed child care. Daughter is one of five little girls under the age of 4. Our care providers (the neighbor and her sister) love her as though she is their own. There are plenty of toys and the environment is safe. We feel good that when we drop her off, she reaches out for these women, and when we pick her up, she reaches out for us.
We are, after all, the real constants in the lives of our children. We will never leave them, and we feel confident that they understand that. With my new job and husband's now-reduced travel schedule, we are usually home together with the children by 5:30. Will they remember the changes in their care providers? I doubt it. Will they remember that we were always there for them? I certainly hope so.
Guest Post: I was the nanny
She was an OB-GYN just beginning her new attending position in private practice as child #3 turned 6 months old. She left her beautiful baby girl and sons 5 and 7 in my care while she went to work. Her husband was amazing and he helped out with everything, often dropping the boys at school or coming home early to take sons to sports practice and appointments, etc. But three kids is more than one person wants to feed, dress and arrange play dates for so this is where I came in. I was not the first or last and at times I was not the only, but for a year I was the primary nanny. I didn’t live in, unless she was on-call or he was out of town but I did breakfast duty to night times stories and sometimes both depending upon the day. It was an amazing year. I learned a lot about medicine from her view and I got to play house and decide that I did want it all, a family and a career in medicine. For over a year I watched her kids grow up while she worked at a job that I knew I someday wanted. At the end of the day she would come home and all three of her children would rush to the door or call for her. First she would wash her hands (I always thought it odd that she didn’t do this before leaving the hospital or office but I suppose she wanted to get home as fast as she could.) She might miss dinner but she would almost always be home before bed time to read stories with her sons or breast feed her baby girl. Later she would tell me about her day, the hard case or difficult patient and I would tell her about homework and play dates and new milestones. She was an amazing mom yet obviously loved her work. I was a part of their lives and often wondered if/when I would fit a family into a medical career. I am now a medical student (and married to an OB-GYN resident) and haven’t yet figured this out. Currently I’m in a different country then my husband so children are not on the horizon. I not sure when/how we will start a family but I know it is possible, because I follow your blog and because once, I was the nanny.
About Me: Right now my life is all about neuroscience, physiology and immunology as I’m in my 2nd term of medical school on a little island known for its spices and beautiful beaches. I keep a blog of my adventures: http://notesfromspiceisland.blogspot.com/
My dream is to practice pediatric neurology and hopefully I’ll figure out how to rig my biological clock so I can have a family once I finish this whole MD training thing.
About Me: Right now my life is all about neuroscience, physiology and immunology as I’m in my 2nd term of medical school on a little island known for its spices and beautiful beaches. I keep a blog of my adventures: http://notesfromspiceisland.blogspot.com/
My dream is to practice pediatric neurology and hopefully I’ll figure out how to rig my biological clock so I can have a family once I finish this whole MD training thing.
Best decision made
I was recently at a birthday party for one of my husband's colleages (who is a doctor). It was one of those events where I didn't know the majority of people there and I had Anesthesioboist's post in my head about female physicians and friendships as I entered into conversations with other women there. I never offered up that I was a physician off the bat, but as it came up naturally - someone asking me what I did - I told them.
I was talking with one woman who told me - out of the blue- that she was a doctor. Then, she was quick to add that she doesn't practice. She completed a residency, but then had two children and decided she couldn't go back to work. The main problem for her was not having a childcare situation that she was happy about and not feeling like she had any other choice. She asked me who watched our children and I told her about our amazing live-in nanny who has made our lives so much easier. I mean, it's a tremendous difference. She felt that she would actually have stayed in medicine if she had such a childcare situation.
I never thought I would ever be comfortable having someone, a stranger, live with us and help take care of our children. Yet, since last fall, we've had R here and let me tell you, it is incredible. She is wonderful with the kids, does our laundry during the day, does light housekeeping, and *whispers* she cooks dinner for us every night. It means that after a long day at work and a grating commute, I can come home, put down my bags, and play with my kids until dinner.
I was talking with one woman who told me - out of the blue- that she was a doctor. Then, she was quick to add that she doesn't practice. She completed a residency, but then had two children and decided she couldn't go back to work. The main problem for her was not having a childcare situation that she was happy about and not feeling like she had any other choice. She asked me who watched our children and I told her about our amazing live-in nanny who has made our lives so much easier. I mean, it's a tremendous difference. She felt that she would actually have stayed in medicine if she had such a childcare situation.
I never thought I would ever be comfortable having someone, a stranger, live with us and help take care of our children. Yet, since last fall, we've had R here and let me tell you, it is incredible. She is wonderful with the kids, does our laundry during the day, does light housekeeping, and *whispers* she cooks dinner for us every night. It means that after a long day at work and a grating commute, I can come home, put down my bags, and play with my kids until dinner.
This is in stark contrast to the live-out nanny we had when my daughter was little. M was a constant source of stress. She was always late, emotionally unstable (I arrived home one day to find M sobbing on the stairs and my daughter, sitting on the stair below, playing.)-- we were always waiting for the other shoe to drop. This is not to say that there aren't wonderful live-out nannies, or that live-in nannies are necessarily better, but we've found a situation that works for us. My husband and I are constantly thanking our lucky stars to have found R - hands down, one of the best childcare decisions - no, life decisions- we've made.
R is like a part of our family now. Our children love her. She not only buys them gifts out of the blue, but has given me gifts too - just because. Sure, as her employer, I handle withholding, unemployment insurance, and health insurance, and it makes filing taxes every year a little more burdensome, but she is entirely worth it.
How did we find her? Would you believe it- Craigslist.
Please don't mention it.
The Day Care topic day is scaring me a little. Okay scaring me a lot. I am mother to a 9 month old. Since birth- well actually earlier- even in the womb my son was the happiest little baby. When carrying him, he was not much of a kicker. Granted on my feet running around all day it was hard to be conscious of his movements. I would lie in bed at night, holding my belly, waiting to feel him move. Nervous I would often put the heart echo probe on my belly, just to see the heartbeat. Turns out he is just an amazingly chill baby. Coming from a mother who is, let’s say less than chill, it seems to be a bit of a miracle. As a newborn he loved to sleep. He rarely cries. He loves to cuddle, giggle and follow the sound of the labradoodle’s jingling collar from room to room. My friends are envious of how “easy” he is. He makes us look like excellent parents. So, yep he is perfect and now it is in my hands not to screw it up! The fields of motherhood are treacherous. For this working mom no area more frightening than the topic of the care of my most precious during the day while I am at the hospital. It comes up all of the time. Casual conversation in the elevator, with patients who see me again after pregnancy leave, from colleagues with genuine concern. So how is it to be back to work? It must be so hard to be away from your son. Do you miss him during the day? Did you hire a nanny? Does he go to day care? No matter how I answer these questions I ALWAYS feel terrible. The honest truth? Maybe I was excited to get back to work. Maybe I am so engrossed in my patients my mind rarely wanders home. I must be a horrible mother. I must be a terrible human. Evenings and weekends we celebrate the little man. I am constantly observing his progress. He seems to be doing fine. So far. But I still worry. It seems that if my baby is happy, successful and loved it is good, right? Good enough?
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