Keep your mama friendships guilt free

I have been so blessed to have several amazing groups of girlfriends, most of whom are mamas. I have a handful of dear friends from high school, sorority line and big sisters who have become like family, my college international housemates, my college friends whose spouses have become my husband's friends, beloved friends from our time in family housing at UNC, my Code Brown Crew from UNC Pediatric Residency, the mamas from the parenting group my husband and I started 3 years ago, and my family - I count my mother, mother-in-law, and great aunt as three of my best friends - these women fill my life with advice and love and accept my text messages and incoming calls day or night. I love, love, love them!

I truly believe that it takes a village to raise a family and it takes a tribe of girlfriends to keep a mama sane and thriving. Over time I have come to realize that it is impossible to be everything to someone and as such I have been able to find over time that all of the different qualities my girlfriends have make for some diverse, sound, and priceless advice. I have never been a one-best-friend type of girl even though I wanted to be and instead do much better with a cadre of lady friends. 

As our lives have ebbed and flowed, sometimes the calls are more frequent, sometimes months or even  years go by without communication. But the love is always there. After months of not speaking I have done consults on sick kiddos, talked to family members who had medical questions, done an emergency contraception consult for an adolescent volunteer visiting the United Arab Emirates (it is dangerous in many countries to have unmarried sex). I have walked with friends through infertility, infant loss, miscarriages, marriage challenges, spousal communication issues, school issues, health issues, you name it. 

As my life has become busier I have been doing more lately to immediately send a text when one of them crosses my mind. Just a quick "you ran across my mind, it's been so long, sending you a big ole hug. How are you and the family?!?". Which leads to a flurry of updates before we have to run. And if I really feel compelled and have some alone time in the car, I pick up the phone and call. Some of those impromptu catch up calls have been life changing for me and for the other ladies. 

I have incorporated a saying recently when the inevitable "I am so sorry it's been so long" is uttered. I quickly say something like "Girl!!! Our lives are so busy ain't nobody got time for mama guilt! Call or text me when I run across your mind and I'll do the same for you!" and then we laugh and continue to catch up in the few minutes we have.

So to all of the mamas out there. Call or text your friends when they run across your mind. When you talk, carry on where you need to. If you feel the need to apologize for it being so long, be gentle and forgiving with yourself and stop yourself! Let's minimize the guilt we have in our lives and do what we can when we can unapologetically. If your friend apologizes, tell her you refuse to have any guilt in your relationship when life is already so complicated and you promise to do what you can when you can to stay in touch. Here's to keeping your mama friendships guilt free and full of love! 

How do you keep in touch with your friends? How do you minimize guilt in your relationships? Please comment below!

Who blinked first?

It was a random Wednesday that I was off from work. I was thinking of the possibilities. Oh the possibilities! I could do my ever piling load of laundry. Replenish the empty fridge. Or forget all that, and keep my toddler child from daycare and spend time doing something fun with him. Since starting intern year, it feels like our time together has became ever so scarce. Today I would make up for all that missed time. We could go to the playground, do story time in the library, visit the local children's museum. Endless possibilities!

First things first, we'd eat some good healthy breakfast to get the day started right. Today I was in no rush. Instead of his usual sugary cereal breakfast, I was going to make eggs and toast. Now anyone who knows my toddler child knows food is a big struggle with him. He reacted to eggs and toast like I had handed him a plate of dog-doo. He put on a whole production. Defiant "I don't wanna". Pushing the plate away. Putting a bite in his mouth followed by gagging sounds. Finally, eating his food in infinitesimally small bites that he would take an absurdly large amount of time to swallow each bite. I was already questioning my decision to keep him home from daycare. I was now fantasizing the alternative of doing laundry in peace.

Finally after an hour or so of lingering, pleading, arguing over the table, I just had it! Out came the threat, "Child, you don't like the food here, I'll take you to school where you seem to have no problem eating the food. Forget about the museum or playground".
"Noooo"
"So you want to finish your food?"
"No"
"So which one do you want, go to school or go to playground"
"Playground"
"Then you have to eat your breakfast"
"No"
"So school then?"
"No"

Round and round in circles we went. And of course there were lots of tears involved!

"Alright then, let me break this down for you. You can go to school. Or you can finish your breakfast and we can go to the playground." Lots more tears. Then he said something shocking! "I want to go to school." I was not expecting this at all. Really!! He wanted to not eat that food so bad, that he would forgo museum and playground, something he normally loves to do! Well, I may have been bluffing a little, we were both in our PJs, not daycare ready. But it was too late to turn back now. I got dressed, got him dressed. All throughout in a shock, asking him several times, "so you want to go to school, not to playground?". Each time, "yes". Alright dear child, as you wish! 'This was incredulous', I kept thinking all the way on our tense walk to the car. Just as I was strapping him into his car seat, he said in a low voice, "I want to eat the breakfast".
In my mind, I thought, "Are you for real??? After all this, after I got dressed, got you dressed, after all those tears and drama, now you want to eat breakfast!!!"
Deep breath.
Aloud I said, "Have you decided for sure?"
"Yes", he said.

We walked back to the apartment in silence. He finished his breakfast without another complaint or tear. I'm happy to report, we had a great rest of the day in the playground and museum, of course peppered with occasional meltdowns here and there, but nothing quite so epic.

I was amazed and strangely proud of my offspring's skepticism. For not just taking my word, but for calling out my bluff with his own bluff. Keeps growing up so fast, keeps me on my toes. Teaching me that,
1. I must be fully prepared to carry out any threats I issue or rewards I promise, and,
2. Conversely, I can not make threats or promise rewards I can not execute

(Credit: Images from the hilarious Hyperbole and a Half, which can now be generated into endlessly entertaining memes)

You're a part time mom

What was the worst thing anyone has ever said to you?

I found the answer to that today. It was an eventful weekend. It's been about 2 months since I've started my new job as a first time attending (more on this on another post!) but since then, it's been non-stop with the move from San Diego to Los Angeles, getting little C adjusted to her new school, starting a new job, studying for boards (which is next month!) and furnishing a new house! I have to say we got pretty lucky and everything is going fine with of course a few bumps in the road but that's expected.

My in laws, including my mother in law, father in law and two aunts came to visit for the weekend. It was a stressful but happy weekend! Moving on to the topic of this post, my brother in law (big C's brother) and his wife and I don't get along. The primary reason being that he doesn't like the fact that I'm a physician and how often I talk about it, which with him, is mainly limited to group emails and text messages amongst my husband's side of the family.

If you guys remember my story, I did not live with little C for the first 2.5 years of her life as she stayed with my parents in Irvine, an hour away form San Diego. Afterwards, I was a single mom with little C for 2 years while I did long distance with big C. During those times, we didn't have much time to visit his side of the family in northern California. I look back at these emails and I do realize I talk a lot about what I do, career wise, but often times, it was out of guilt and my way of explaining as to why I was so sorry that they aren't able to see their granddaughter that often.

Moving on, my brother in law and I had an argument today about the fact that he cancelled plans on us this weekend and he didn't offer an explanation. (Reason being--he just didn't feel the need to tell me.) But regardless, in this argument, he said that I needed to know my audience. The fact that his wife (stay at home mom) is at home with his daughter all the time with no help makes me inadequate to talk about my struggles as a working resident mom when I had help from my own mom. He said I was a "part time mother" for 2.5 years and that his wife is a "super mom" because she doesn't ever use a nanny or house cleaner. Wow. Those words really got to me. It took awhile to process. Little C is already almost 5. She's been with me over 2 years now. I an her favorite person. She is 100% sure that I am her mama so why did I feel like I couldn't breathe?

I did my best to hold it all in during the conversation but when it was done and over, I couldn't' even process it. I had to excuse myself and go the bathroom. I locked myself in a stall and I was brought back to my first week of residency after maternity leave. My boobs ached. I was still pumping and bringing milk back to C at the time. I was experiencing all the symptoms of post-partum depression but didn't even realize it. People asked how little C was doing and I could barely hold in the tears as the insurmountable guilt of leaving her with mom came back to me with every mention of her name. The mom guilt was so strong and with just that statement--it came all back to me.

It made me question am I bad mom? Is C going to be okay? Am I selfish for wanting a career and motherhood? I turned into that insecure first year radiology resident in the bathroom at the VA hospital with tears streaming down my face only to bite my tongue so hard as if the physical pain could take the emotional pain so I can back to fluoroscopy suite to do the next upper GI study that was on the schedule.

But I am not that little girl. I am not a part time mom. It takes a village to raise a child. Even as an attending, I have a wonderful village that includes a nanny who helps me with morning drop offs, a house cleaner, a dog walker, a grandmother who is willing to help out whenever she's needed and a wonderful husband, who despite his own busy work schedule, will watch little C in a heartbeat if he is free.

I will not apologize for my village. They make me the mom and physician I am today. I will not apologize for being a doctor. I will not apologize for being an example of what a woman can accomplish to my daughter. And most importantly, I will not let your words doubt my ability as a mom ever again.

I am more than a part time mother. I am her mother. And the only opinion that should matter is hers. And tonight before bed, I asked little C, do you wish mommy could stay home with you? She said, "no mama, I go to school because I'm a kid and you go to work to help sick people because you're a doctor."

Don't let people like him bring you down. As Taylor Swift will say, haters going to hate hate hate but I'm just going to shake, shake, shake, shake, shake I shake it off, I shake it off...

Tell the truth, as soon as you know it

It was a Thursday evening and I had just gotten off from back to back shifts, first a full day in private practice and then a hospital training for my new gig. Zo was riding his bike up and down the street. My husband O catches me on the porch and says, “have a seat, I need to tell you something”. My heart sank, I knew this wasn’t going to be a good conversation. He proceeds to tell me about how Zo had stabbed another student in the neck at school. This is one of those students who is always crying, always dramatic, always asking for a hug. The student had cried and gotten a band-aid and Zo had gotten in big trouble.

I began crying. Ashamed. Scared. Worried. More shame. Guilt. Fear. I had flashbacks of when I had gotten into a fight in high school and the look of worry and concern on my parents’ faces. I didn’t understand then, but in that moment, I fully understood. You work so hard to raise well-rounded, empathetic, gentle humans and then they go and do something so utterly stupid that you lose your breath, you lose all sense, you feel like a failure.

O proceeded to explain to me how he had managed it. He decided to handle it while I was at work between the men-folks. He had picked Zo up early. He had talked to him first and then he even met with the the School Psychologist, Assistant Principal, his Teacher, and the Teacher’s Aide. My husband had cried once they returned home due to fear, shame, guilt, and an outpouring of emotions. He called one of our friends who has an 8 year old son and they walked through an appropriate discipline plan. O talked to Zo a lot and explained how we have to have “gentle hands” all of the time. By the time I got home things were smoothed over. I was saddened that yet again I was at work, but I was proud of my husband for the way he handled things. O is the more calm and collected parent and I begrudgingly admitted that it was good that he was the one who had picked Azola up.

Zo finally came down the street and saw me on the porch. He came to give me a hug and then put his head down and said “did you hear about my behavior?” and then we talked about how he had hurt his friend at school. I explained that I was very disappointed. He promised never to do it again.

I texted the other parent, a stepmother, who had been a little flighty in the past. I asked if we could talk about what happened and we set up a time. That time came and went. I reached out again. Same thing. Apologies. The weekend went by. We continued to talk to Zo about being gentle and that it was important never to hurt others.

Then on Monday I get a text from Zo’s teacher asking had I heard what really happened. I quickly texted back and learned that Zo HAD NOT stabbed another child in the neck, but that on Friday they had learned from the stepmother and father of the little boy ON FRIDAY AFTER SCHOOL that Zo had been dared to break a plastic fork and that a tooth of the fork had popped up and hit the other boy in the neck. The kids had thought this meant that Zo had stabbed him.

So after an agonizing weekend feeling like failures of parents, all the stepmother had to do was text me and say something like “hey, you know Zo didn’t really stab my son, right?” and that would have changed things considerably. Zo wouldn’t have been disciplined. Why didn’t the family tell the truth as soon as they learned it? I would have! Why schedule a time to talk and then miss it and not say anything?

I wish those parents had told the truth as soon as they’d known it.

You don't need me to go pee and other 4am thoughts

I am at a crossroads with my 5 year old. It’s 4 o’clock in the morning and I have just been woken up from some amazing sleep for the countless time with a scream of “mom, I have to go to the bathroom”. I grumpily yell back “go by yourself” and my husband mumbles “that’s not nice!” and said 5 year old yells at me from the bathroom. I get up and our little tyrant is perched on the toilet going to the bathroom by himself. The bathroom is lightly illuminated with a night light. He pees as I gently say “please stop waking mommy up. I’m very tired and it makes me cranky when you wake me up.” “Cranky?” he says. “Yes, cranky because I’m tired” I say. I tell him he’s a big boy and can go pee by himself. He says “okay” then walks to his room leaving the door cracked. I tell him it’s okay to leave his door cracked and he says “okay”. I lay down in bed, he says “please close the door” I don’t respond, hubby gets up and closes the door. I lay awake in bed recounting all of the things that I am doing wrong with him, the things I am worried about with professional drama, good things that are going on (woo hoo congratulations on the new professional leadership program acceptance!), but sleep eludes me and I am so tired. 

This and worse accounts (one particular evening I had a screaming match with him because I wouldn’t come back and put his covers on him just right) document our nighttime ritual. He sleeps completely through the night less than once a week. He pees on himself at least once a month. Me remaining awake for several hours after being woken up is much more common than me going peacefully back to sleep. My husband is usually not woken up, but when he is he rarely has a problem going back to sleep. 

And I am at a sleeping crossroads. Being woken up for months and months and years and years makes for an unhappy mommy and I can feel the effects of my sleep deprivation. I am cranky when he wakes me up and if the sleep is really good I am downright angry. I know he needs sleep, he goes to bed at 7:30pm and wakes up between 7 and 7:30am. If he goes to sleep after 8pm for more than a few days, things don’t go well for anyone. I on the other hand know I need more sleep, but getting in bed before 9pm is rarely an option, but if I could just sleep uninterrupted it would be so much more restful. Tonight though I was in bed watching TV by 8:30pm. 

I don’t know what to do. It’s 4:10am. My shoulders hurt, it’s cold (autumn in the mid-Atlantic in our 1938-built home mean it’s chilly literally all of the time). I want to be asleep, but I can’t go back to sleep. So here I type after sending my husband a “I can’t do this anymore” email that I’m sure will make for great breakfast conversation and texts back and forth all day. 

I know I have options, but in my 4am research I can find very little about nighttime awakenings. Lots about 5 year olds being scared of the bathroom in general, but nothing specifically about what to do when he wakes you up at night and won't go back to sleep. Should I start sleep training again; this time using the same techniques of slowly responding less to his demands each night (but it takes so long!)? Light his room up with an additional night light to illuminate the dark corners? Make my husband do it alone? Refuse to get up with the tyrant anymore? Ship him in a box to my parents? Put a small potty seat in his room as my girlfriend, also a Pediatrician recommends (this seems so gross to me though and all I can think of is tripping on it and pee flying everywhere)? 

Please help! I’m so over this. It’s now 4:25am and I’m going to see if I’m tired enough to fall back asleep.

All of the ways I forget

I had my 90-day evaluation in my new position today. I left the clinic I was working in, one overrun by burnout and toxic management, in order to remember why I went into medicine at all. I love my patients and this work, but I love my family more. I now work 3 days a week in health care administration and quality improvement. I sleep well at night now that the main cause of my insomnia has ended. My family is happier. My evaluation went very well.

Immediately after my meeting, my husband reached out and said he needed to talk. I needed to talk too. He is finishing his dissertation this week, we just bought a new house, and my parents came in town for the weekend. We have been passing like ships in the night. Both busy and not really checking in enough. With moments of hugs and kisses and simple appreciation. But overall, we haven’t been checking in frequently enough and we definitely haven’t been having the weekly meetings that are my bookends at work.

I feel lonely. He feels unappreciated. Why didn’t I offer to help with his appendices? Why didn’t I read the chapter he asked me to read so many months ago (honestly, he gave it to me and I forget and he never mentioned it again until today and now I feel like dirt). He feels that my work has taken priority in our family for years (medical school, residency, the toxic job took so much of our family’s energy just to stay afloat). And now I’m studying for my Boards again after I failed them last year (more about that later, I have a lot to say about it but it's so raw and traumatizing). And he’s finishing his dissertation and starting his first job as a professor at the state university.

When we get busy I forget that my marriage needs check-ins, scheduled ones, on purpose because they are priorities. And when we are busy, we both have to go the extra mile to make sure that my needs, his needs, and our family’s needs are met.

And I’m sitting here at work, dragging my feet because at home I am reminded of all the ways I forget. I need to go home and start remembering again. And I need to be gentle with myself because we are juggling plates and though many of them are scuffed up I pray that none of them are smashed and destroyed. I’m going to head home now in order to remember that I love him immensely. And loves me. And we can't forget.

Dear stay at home mother...

I recently came across this article and it really struck a chord with me. As a working mom, I have often felt the divide between the working mom and the stay at home mom. This is the article and this is my own article to the stay at home mother.
http://carolynee.net/a-letter-from-a-working-mother-to-a-stay-at-home-mother-and-vice-versa/

Dear stay at home mother,

I just wanted you to know that there is absolutely no judgment from my end. In fact, I think what you do is infinitely harder than what I do. Sure there are moments such as when I have to wake up little C earlier than she would like, force feed breakfast down her throat while trying to apply sunscreen all at the same time only to be late to work once again that I might think for a millisecond that it would be great to be a stay at home mom. However, the minute I do get to work and get to enjoy my morning coffee in silence. The thought crosses my mind for much longer than a millisecond that I don't know how you do it.

I am sure you are intimidated by me but I want you to know that I am also intimidated by you. I didn't breastfeed my little C the entire year. In fact, I had to hand off the role of primary caregiver to my parents for the first 2 years of her life. I had to be okay with not being the person who knew what her cries meant at all times and I had to be okay with not being the one she wanted at all times. Even now, I try but there are times we often settle on mac and cheese for dinner and I let her watch TV one too many times just so I can finish the work that I brought home with me.

I see you at the playground. But the minute I mention my occupation, I see that look in your eyes. It's as if we no longer have anything in common. But we are both mothers. I identify myself so much more as a mom than I do as a physician. So please don't be shy. I often find motherhood to be a sorority that requires an unending pledging process. How we do it is our own personal decision but we are all linked in our role as a mom, our role to take care of these little human beings and every day we wake up a superhero because what greater power is there than caring for the next generation?

So stay at home mother, please know I have nothing but respect for what you do. I had the most incredible stay at home mother growing up and often find myself at a loss, feeling unsure of how I can provide the love and security she gave me during my childhood to my own child. I had the best childhood because I had a stay at home mother so judging you would make absolutely no sense because I had the best childhood and the best mother.

However, I chose to work for reasons that are important to me. Just as I respect and understand your decision to stay home, I hope you can do the same for me. I love my child just as much as you loves yours. I constantly struggle with the working mom guilt and every day as I tuck my little C in bed, I question whether my decision to work will be worth it in the end.

Let's support each other. We are all united in the sorority of motherhood. Most importantly, I wanted you to know I get it. I really do.

Love, this working mom

This child and his sensitive skin

It all started out as a little papule on his left buttocks. In the middle of a busy week of relatives visiting and make-up clinic days, what started out as a small papule morphed into something worse. Zo has had exceedingly sensitive skin since he was 1 years old. Hyperkeratotic plaques behind his knees that sprout up in the span of 2 days if he isn’t slathered in a thick mixture of shea butter and petroleum jelly twice a day. Diffusely itchy maculopapular rashes if we miss his nightly dose of cetirizine. That type of sensitive skin.

I thought I had things under control. But I didn’t.

Monday - I see a little papule on his left buttocks. I put on a thin layer of triamcinolone 0.025% on it. Later that night, I see a few more papules. I put him in the bathtub and then put on more triamcinolone and begin our twice a day ritual for exacerbations.

Tuesday - I see more papules. He is itchy. Is that a ring? Nahhh, I’ll just step up the emollients.

Wednesday - I return home and notice him scratching. How was swimming? His response, “it was fun” as he continues to scratch. Bathtime. Is that a 2 centimeter scaling ring-lesion?!? Oh goodness! He’s got tinea!!! I don’t have time to get clotrimazole and I forget to text my hubby what medicine to get from the pharmacy.

Thursday - satellite lesions. After clinic I run to the local CVS and wait in line for 15 minutes to purchase clotrimazole and by the time I arrive home he's asleep. That peaceful sleep where you know not to interrupt them or all hell will break loose so I let him sleep as I fret about his tinea outbreak.

Friday morning - we begin twice a day clotrimazole use.

Weekend - more lesions. Lower back, posterior and anterior thigh. Areas I won't mention for fear of him one day reading this. But seriously who knew tinea could spread so quickly and that toddlers can get jock itch! Major fail!!! Quick consult to my doctor friends with pictures of all of the lesions minus his groin. Definitely tinea. Definitely spreading; it’s all of the summer camp fun and splash park play dates. Primary care friend KJ says just go ahead and suck it up and put him on griseofulvin too, it’s already too out of hand and you'll stop it before it spreads to his scalp.

And just like that, I have written my first prescription for my son. Too ashamed and time-pressed to bring him in to my new clinic for tinea corporis. I knew the liquid wouldn’t go well as he is now 16 kilograms and our last go round with amoxicillin ended in us making daily smoothies. Based on my calculations, he could do one-half of a 500mg tablet daily - and after all of the pill swallowing for kids I observed due to an awesome program one of my co-residents did, I knew what to do.

Tuesday - I took him to the pharmacy to get him excited about his new medicine to help with his itchy parts. He shook the bottle to a nice beat and did a happy dance. We got home and I cut the pill. Hubby says “shouldn’t you crush this, it’s huge.” I say “nawww, we’ve got this.” Equipped with 1 tablespoon of honey and half of the pill, I say, “okay, you’ve got to swallow this without crunching it up.” Zo smiles, says okay and then hubby offers him some extra water and then VOILA!!! My almost four-year-old swallowed his first pill!!! Proud doctor-mommy moment in the midst of a crazy week.

What in the world?!?

I was supposed to be much farther along in my studying goals and there are 6 weeks until my pediatric boards and every week I realize how much further off track I am.

I thought my schedule was “made for” studying. Four-day work week with Fridays off. And then my clinic closed for 2 days and I’m making up those days on my off days because I don’t have enough comp time yet.

And then the fancy, super detailed Google calendar study plans that I worked so hard on are being utterly obliterated. The first 2 weeks I was solid, but that was when my patient load was only at 50%. Then when I got up to 75% things got real. And now that I have a full patient load there is literally not enough time in the day to sleep, eat, see patients, work on notes, call patients back, read consult notes, spend at least a few hours with my family, and finish the notes that I didn’t get done earlier in the day.

I hadn’t even realized I had gotten to the 6 week mark until one of my study partners mentioned it. What in the world?!? She said “it’s time to go to PICU hours?” And she’s totally right. Something has to give and I don’t have $2,265 nor the time to retake these Peds boards. My husband is super supportive and tells me to take the time that I need but after so many years of missing out on tons of family related activities it just breaks my heart to be at this coffee shop doing Med Study questions on a beautiful Sunday morning while my family is at the park but hey - it’s going down!!! (well right after I write this pity-party of a blog post)

I’ve got this, right?!? I just remember how grumpy I was during the PICU because of the sleep deprivation. At least I don’t have to calculate TPN (total parenteral nutrition) or ventilator settings.

Alright ladies - I need your support. Your encouragement. What did you do? (I scratched that because I have all of the resources I plan on using and don't really want general info about how you studied cuz' we all study differently and I know me - I'm all about practice questions). How did you do it? How did you balance it? Did you study as much as you'd planned? Did you get up at 5am? When did you do your notes? When did you study?

Feeling like the worst mom in the world...

My introduction post was mostly about how I get to know Mothers in Medicine, which was when I found out I was pregnant. I also talked about where I am today. I never talked about what happened in between those 2 and a half years.

So during those 2 and a half years, I went from first year radiology resident to fourth year radiology resident. I just took my boards last month!! (Ask me again in 1 month how I felt about it, which is also when I'll get the results.) My husband, big C, went from 4th year orthopedic resident to a 6th/chief orthopedic resident. He just graduated last month!! Currently, I started my first month of my last year of residency and my husband is actually, right now, taking his orthopedic boards. He'll be moving to the east coast in exactly 2 weeks to start his spine fellowship.

So basically, I'll be a single mom for a year. But what you don't know about me is that my little C has been with my parents in a city 1 hour away from our  city of training for the past 2 and a half years. That is how we did it. So your recent blog post Anita Knapp really resonates with me! It was an extremely difficult 2+ years. But given my husbands 80+ hour work weeks and my most difficult years of residency ahead (combination of both majority of my calls during my 2nd year of radiology residency and studying for radiology boards/multiple board review sessions during my 3rd year of radiology residency), we felt that this was what was best for little C. 

I have had my share of mommy guilt during this time. I questioned my decision all the time. I felt like a horrible mother. It definitely put a strain on my marriage with big C because who likes being around a negative and sad person all the time? But little C was my heart and soul and it just didn't feel right being away from her Monday to Fridays and some weekends. 

Well little C is all moved down. It's so funny how kids can be so resistant to change at times and also so easily adaptable. I took 2 weeks of vacation to help get her situated. In less than a week, it was as if she already forgot about her 2+ years with grandparents (much to my mom's dismay). During those 2 weeks, she and I attended her 2 week orientation at the pre-school associated with the university, which basically meant spending 1 hour a day for 2 weeks with her at the pre-school. That part went fine. In fact, the entire 2 weeks was awesome for our relationship. I got to just be her mom without even thinking about residency once. 

I thought the transition to pre-school would be easier. She attended part time pre-school during her last 5 months with grandparents almost as a preparation for what's to come. She had a hard 1st month but eventually grew to love it and was out the door to go see her friends as she would say.

However, she must feel like her whole world is upside down now. It's been almost 2 weeks into her new pre-school, which is obviously now full time and every day she cries and cries. Drop-offs are so painful. I spend the mornings just thinking about her crying little face screaming for mommy.

She refuses to eat at pre-school. She's potty trained at home but refuses to pee on the toilet at school. She also doesn't nap. When I go pick her up, she seems okay but I can't seem to shake it off that this is just a transition period. Is she ever going to adjust? Am I just the worst mother in the world? Was this a mistake? Was I being selfish by taking her away from the princess treatment that was given to her by her grandparents? 

I don't know if I can go back to the former life. I love picking her up. I love eating dinner with her. I love putting her to bed. I love that she runs over to me and wakes me up in the morning. But do I need her more than she needs me? Am I not able to give her what she needs? 

It almost feels foolish that I thought the mom guilt that I carried with me for those 2+ years since maternity leave would disappear once she lived with me. 

But right now, I can't help it. I'm feeling like the worst mom in the world yet again.

How am I going to survive once my big C goes to the east coast? 

Days likes this. Cutter's blog post comes to mind on whether this (as in medicine) is worth it? I simply say "no." 

MIM Intro: Doctor Professor Mom

Hello, I am Doctor Professor Mom.  No, that’s not my real name but it’s a name that makes me really proud.  My oldest son coined it a few months ago when he learned that I am not only a doctor but I am also a professor and I am also a mom.  He seemed genuinely proud when he coined the name and, of course, I was equally proud both at his creativity and at some of my accomplishments.

Even as a Doctor Professor Mom, it’s hard to feel accomplished.  Maybe it’s something about academic medicine where I feel pulled in a million different directions. I teach; I do research; I see patients – it’s easy to feel like a jack of all trades and master of none.  Add on a busy family life and mastery is not in my cards.  But academic medicine has given me incredible flexibility, variety, and satisfaction.  Plus, I get to proudly say I am a doctor and a professor.

Of course my proudest accomplishment is not that I am a doctor or a professor but that I am a mom to three boisterous, energetic, and absolutely wonderful sons.  They are ten, eight, and six (gasp - how did they get so old).  After ten years of motherhood I have a lot to reflect on in managing a household with two equally ambitious working parents and ever changing challenges of parenting. 

I became interested in writing about my experience as a doctor and mother after my first son was born.  I spent 18 months crying every day when I went to work and decided (with the incredible support of my husband) to leave my job and stay home.  Then I struggled trying to find my identity as a stay-at-home mom (I wrote about this experience in an essay called Dr. Mom).  I returned to work and decided to focus on research and a career in academic medicine.  For me, it was an excellent choice.  That being said, the struggles of being a working mom, finding meaning and satisfaction in your work, and all the other challenges of life never go away even when you feel like you’ve found the perfect job.

When I wrote Dr. Mom in 2007, so many women contacted me and thanked me for sharing my story.  I promised myself I would write more, but, not surprisingly, life got busy.  I’m thrilled to have a place to write, to be a part of a community of women in medicine and hope that something I write will resonate with someone else. 

Birthday Call: from zero to 60 and then somewhere in the middle in mere hours

40 minutes into my commute to work, I had a pseudo-melt down. As I sang “Happy Birthday” over the phone to my three-year-old, I lost it. I realized that I hadn’t kissed him on his birthday, I’d forgotten my lunch and during a 28 hour call the cafeteria food begins to make me nauseous, and that I was exceedingly anxious about all of the changes our lives will encounter over the next few months.

Needless to say, I’m in the call room after a deluge of discharges, awaiting our next transfer, feeling the urge to write and release this tension.

My Little Zo is three today. Three years ago, on this day, I birthed a fabulous little human being into the world. He’s helped me grow in countless ways. I’ve learned to let go. I’ve learned to give my all in the moment and then pass things off to someone else (to hubby O, to my parents/in-laws, to the wonderful ladies at daycare, to his Pediatrician). I’ve learned that keeping your own kid alive and occupied means breaking lots of rules (my infant slept on his belly after weeks of sleepless nights, my 2 year old ate yogurt and spinach smoothies or oatmeal for dinner on picky-eating nights) and that I am so much more capable than I ever thought imaginable. I’ve realized what’s important (playing legos and dinosaurs before bedtime and leaving my notes until he’s gone to bed, sleep, couple time, giving my all at work and not worrying about my child since he’s taken care of at all times).

In less than a year, I’ll be an Attending and yet another goal will have been achieved. I have had a few successful telephone interviews and I have my first in-person interview in October with a community health system affiliated with my medical school. This morning when I was sobbing, a great friend, KJ, who is now a Pediatrician in private practice gave me her pep-talk. We have these at least once every few months. She tells me about all of the little and big victories she has in her life after residency. She has weekends off and time to be with her boyfriend and her dog. She tells me about her quirky colleagues and her amazing patients. She tells me how different things will be in a few short months.

So, on Little Zo’s third birthday, I went from zero (dragging myself out of bed after an exhausting month on inpatient service during asthma season), to 60 (sobbing in the Starbucks parking lot), to somewhere in the middle. I am thankful for three years of motherhood. Thankful that Zo is vibrant, healthy, active, super-smart, and super-sweet (when he’s not biting or hitting). Thankful for only 3 more days on inpatient service before 2 months of elective and that I've been able to do great work this month and keep folks' babies alive and healthy! Thankful for friends like KJ who understand the struggles of residency-based medical practice. Sad that I wasn’t at home snuggling Zo and our visiting family members. And hopeful of life after residency.

Happy birthday to my little roaring dinosaur - Mommy loves you!

Daddy time!

My daughter has the most beautiful relationship with her daddy.  They have their own little songs they sing together, bedtime rituals, games only they understand.  She’s his little buddy and I love to watch her chat with him in her little 3 year old way about her day or her thoughts.  I’m currently on a very long night float rotation and my little one is having a hard time keeping her sleep schedule.  Many nights my husband declares that she is going to bed at 8pm on the dot.  I often find her snuggled up with my hubby in bed after they’ve stayed up late watching “one more Dora” or having a jam session in his studio.  There is so much beauty in their father daughter relationship.  It is deep and substantial and real.  I hope their strong bond continues as she gets older and helps her to continue to be strong and self assured.   My husband and I love raising this beautiful girl together.

A few weeks ago I was talking to a fellow resident (and mom of 2) about the typical mommy guilt involved with being a resident and spending time away from your kids.  She’s struggling about choosing a specialty and worried about the damage a more rigorous specialty would cause to her kids.  Somehow we got to the topic of her husband having to comb hair and she mentioned that her daughter actually prefers her daddy’s more gentle approach to her mom’s attempts at taming her hair.  And then we starting talking about all the daddy daughter bonds both of our daughters have and reflected that without their busy mamas, our daughters may not have had the opportunity to form these strong attachments.

My daughter is proud of my work at “the doctor house.”  The time I spend with her is my most treasured and I think our relationship is amazing.  How awesome is it that she also has just as enriching and fulfilling a relationship with her daddy.  And, I’m not suggesting that dads never form close relationships with their daughters in all other work-life situations.  However, just think of how many women you know who report troubled or complicated or loose ties to their fathers.  Maybe our girls would have formed all these same attachments no matter what careers we had.  But, on those days of horrible mommy guilt, it’s nice to think of my baby girl and my hubby dancing, singing and rocking out to their own song.

cross posted at www.myrecoveryroom.com