Kelly

[houseelf]

December 11, 2008

Sean just passed his general surgery oral boards! WHOOP, WHOOP!

He *swore* to me on Tuesday that he thought he failed and was downright despondent and inconsolable. He said the examination was comprised of three rooms, one of which he utterly tanked. He said the first question in that room was about trauma to a geriatric patient, a population in which he hasn't seen in two years and trauma being a subspecialty in which he loathes. After this first crappy scenario, he reported feeling just like a deer in the headlights and the rest of the questions just went downhill from there.

Fortunately, one must pass two out of three rooms. :huh:

He was just beside himself and all upset about the prospect of having to go through this again. Plus, these babies don't come cheap. Now it's on to Peds surgery
written boards. I can't even be sad that even now there are still more hurdles at this late stage in the training game.

[houseelf]

Re: Kelly

March 5, 2009

My blog has disappeared...basically because I "helped" Kris out by transferring and deleting data during the software upgrade. (You all should be VERY afraid that I have acess to the technical guts of the board. My help is really dangerous. ) Anyway, Kris is sorting through each piece lovingly and hopefully will restore it soon. I really don't deserve her. (Shameful, shameful suck up).

Wow, so much has gone on that I don't know where to start. Prompted by a thread on this board, I purchased the "Boys Body Book" for my nine year old. I sorted through several books before choosing this one. It doesn't tell the whole graphic story about sex but it does start the conversation on impending physical and emotional changes. Needless to say, we had some interesting discussions. I feel like we're a VERY open family and yet I have to be honest that this was a bit intimidating. FWIW, I find that it is easier to break down the big sex topic into manageable chunks throughout the years rather than having one big talk. Anyway, this is a shout out to you all for talking about this topic and helping me sift through how I wanted to handle it. Although this is "just" a chat site it helps me out in ways completely unrelated to the occasional suckfest of medicalspousedom.

Speaking of suckfests, February was pretty damn sucky in regards to DH's job. I was not a happy surgeon's wife. (Happy surgeon's wife? A misnomer?) DH's junior fellow went to Ethiopia for ten days for a medical outreach rendering Sean on call-palooza. Immediately following this stint, he attended a peds surgery oncology in Memphis. It was like he was gone for three weeks except there was this occasional physical presence in our house in the middle of the night. This is almost harder than him just going somewhere. The lights were on but no one was home. He was C-R-A-B-B-Y and I'm just about done with all this sh**.

What is ironic about my complaining is that I'm a huge advocate for medical outreach programs and am happy that this is now an annual requirement in this fellowship. This time, however, the cost felt too high. They are understaffed with two fellows, one is downright inhumane.

In other news, I have also come to some big decisions regarding the kids lately. Although these decisions seem trivial to an outsider, they felt/feel enormous to me. Above all else, I don't want to mess up where they are concerned.

The first is regarding DD's entrance into kindergarten. She has an August 20th birthday, meaning if we had taken the St. Louis or Indianapolis job, she would not have been permitted to start kindergarten. Part of me hoped that the decision would have been taken from me via a move, but this didn't happen. (Coward).

As I have talked about in the past ad infinitum, I *really* have mixed emotions about this decision. On one hand, she is a young four, both literally and emotionally. She occasionally still throws temper tantrums and has impulse control issues. On the other hand, she has a ...uh...robust sense of self. No one bosses Kendall around. She has the perspective that she is entitled to do whatever her nine year old brother and his friends are permitted to do. She is a flaming extrovert (uhh...where does she get that from?) and knows EXACTLY what she wants. She is as smart as a whip, reading chapter books like Junie B. Jones with ease.

Still, I recently decided to hold her for kindergarten because I firmly believe that it isn't just about intellectual abilities. In all honesty, she'd probably kick butt in kindergarten. It is inmaturity during middle school that worries me. (Well, middle school just worries me period, but an exceptionally immature middleschooler...GAH!) My challenge with her, well there will be a couple, is to keep her still engaged intellectually in school while allowing her just grow up at her own pace.

Which brings me to the second big decision in which I currently must make with finality by next Friday. Cade will be starting fourth grade next year. Part of me feels like I need to get him into whatever school district/system he will be in until he graduates. At some small level, some of the kids that you graduate with are the ones you sat next to in grade school. We have always had some small level of guilt because Cade has been our residency baby. His entire life has been during DH's training. He has moved and will have to move again. One of my bigger concerns for him has been to provide him consistency where I could.

His current montessori only goes to 6th grade. I researched some other private schools and found one that I really liked. Both kids went in to meet the teachers (thinly veiled interview process) and Cade took a two hour test. Last week, the were both offered spots. This particular school is small (a compelling criterion for me), offer programs from preschool through high school (continuity), and boasts the highest ACT/SAT scores in the entire region.

Sounds great right? The issue is the tuition. Tuition is a VULGAR amount of money. No, really, I mean an obscene price tag. (*My apologies for speaking candidly about something that is so far out of reach for most families still in training. Believe me, I feel your pain of living paycheck to paycheck. We've done it for the first ten years of our marriage.)

Could we afford it? Yes, but doing so will make a lot of other decisions in our life and will require this school to be a priority above all else. There is a huge part of us that gets swept up in wanting the best for our kids. It is a damn scary outlook right now. Even though most of us lament overscheduling and hyper parenting, it is not so easy to opt out. I fall prey to this because my husband and my education means EVERYTHING to us. We are from definitively blue collar backgrounds and everything that we have is due to our education and hard work. Who doesn't want to give their kids a little edge.

Still, in vomiting up this issue to anyone who would listen, my friend that homeschools challenged me to think about what the "best' means. Does it mean more homework, more memorization, better standardized testing? Or does it mean the best life possible? Does it mean financial security, a happy childhood, calm parents? We are particularly vulnerable in getting swept up in the "bigger is better" mentality because of our backgrounds. We definitely don't have the pedigrees of many of our friends. Obviously, we love our kids more than anything and want them to have everything. It is just stripping away what the best means.

Although it was a difficult decision, we will keep the kids in montessori. We decided having a parent available to them via staying at home or part time work was more important. We decided that we don't want them to feel the pressure of the rat race yet. Finally, a statement Nellie made a few months back rings true to our situation. Two generations ago, both of our families were hunting squirrels in KY and TN just to eat. It would be *appalling* to think that we can't live well under our means on a pediatric surgeon's salary. Really, if that is the case, we will not be able to manage money at ANY income level.

As of today, we plan to stay in this house for two years. This gives the kids two more years of continuity, keeps the kids in the montessori, gives us time to really turn our financial ship around. If we stay in Cinci long term, we are strongly looking at a small school distirct with an "Excellent with Distinction" rating. If we don't stay in Cinci, all this emotional energy was pointless.

Once again, this just underscores how everything feels bigger and scarier with the first born. Poor kid. I am going out to dinner tonight with the mother of one of Cade's friends. She has two sons in college and one son who is nine. (She affectionately calls him the child that she had when she realized that she forgot to have more kids along the way.) I love her perspective and the perspective of people with older kids. Just like I have a bit more perspective and understanding of mommies with newborn issues.

I splurged on a sitter for two Thursdays this month. I'm trying to get some girlfriend time in before the baby comes. I also think the kids are going to spend a weekend at their grandparents this month so Sean and I can be together as grownups. It is very nice to finally have a sense of community. My hats off to you all out there who don't have this. It is a true luxury. Seven years without it makes me so grateful to have it now.

[houseelf]

Re: Kelly

March 9, 2009

This one is going to be intentionally vague while I sort some things out. Somebody please sit me down and remind me that there is no parenting and/or marriage manual out there with a carefully derived formula to ensure success. I swear sometimes I feel like I believe in this myth and if I make the wrong decision, it will all go to hell in a handbasket. When I have a rare moment of sanity, I realize there are many paths. Hell, I flatter myself to think that I can control the outcomes that much.

This week I feel like I'm just winging it instead of intentionally living out my goals and priorities. I don't know what I'm doing. We have a financial planner appointment this week and I'm sure he's going to ask us what our five year goals are. Hell, I don't know. Cincinnati or no? Private school tuition or move to a public district? Return to work or continue to SAHM. Hey, buddy, your guess is as good as mine.

I *really* think my crap attitude is influenced by the News right now. I have taken several month long breaks from it in the past and I can feel myself sliding towards it. It is just too much right now. Life, marriage, and parenting demands that we come from a place of hope and belief and I can't get there when I'm chugging down Morning Edition, Fox News, and CNN. Hello Disneyworld? I need a little hit to get me through.

In a delightful turn of events, DD has been a shear delight lately and I wonder if I have overanalyzed some of her previous impulsiveness and/or headstrong behavior. Maybe it was me not riding it out.

Conversely, DS's has been glib, irresponsible, and generally ignores whatever small request is made of him. He and I had a hell come to Jesus over morning breakfast this morning. I had had it. What a way to start out the week. I felt like a slug, but I do way to much for him to put up with attitude and I just laid it all out for him.

After school, his teacher went out of her way to find me at carline to tell me that he finished a portion of his standardized test in about 1/6th of the time as the other students and generally has raced through the other sections. On one hand, I do NOT flatter myself. This is typical nine year old boy behavior. He simply doesn't care about scantrons, personal hygeine, or pretty much any other culturally expected behavior. On the other hand, I am beyond frustrated. I could write a small diatribe about this, but I'll let this pass (for now) and chant, "It is all going to work out o.k."

In another variation of this roller coaster theme, Sean was home this past weekend, his first weekend off in a month. It mostly was great, but there were moments of "Oh, wait, we have to SHARE control and decision making." Needless to say, I'm pretty unaccustomed to this sort of thing. I would make a fabulous benevolent dictator of some small island somewhere.

In all seriousness, my anxiety has peaked a bit recently. I'm trying to get back to my zen spot, but I can feel it creeping in. Decisions overwhelm me as I analyze the bejesus out of them. This of course drives my husband crazy. He is Mr.-make-a-decision-based-on-the-variables-before-you-and-let-it-go. (Surgeon-par-excellence). That of course, drives me crazy. It isn't that simple. We have to live with things a looooong time.

Well, I guess the above kvetching will be my contribution to the board today. I'm leaking out my crabbiness as a token of goodwill. My apologies.

[houseelf]

Born Under A Lucky Star

Born under a lucky star

Posted Today at 08:59 AM by houseelf
Tags

April 1, 2009

Kris has lovingly restored some bits and pieces of my blog that I obliterated during the server move. I have kind of scared the bejeebies out of myself with my technical ineptitude. I'm hesitant to get into the back panel anymore. Somebody stop me before I help again!

I'm 31 weeks preggos now and although I'm trying to mentally deny it, I'm starting to feel like I'm in my third trimester. The last few weekends I have gone camping and on a break to an indoor waterpark with the kids. My body wants to sloooow down a bit but I have a hard time doing so. I have had a few bouts of anxiety about being able to handle a newborn again, but markedly less anxiety than with my other pregnancies. I think that this is more due to life experience than anything.

I have gained approximately 24 pounds, which puts me on a 40 pound trajectory if I follow my last pregnancies of rapid weight gain at the end. So much for a Nicole Kidman post partum bod. I only mention this because the ObGyn in the group that I last met with told me to watch my weight gain at my last visit. It depressed me so much that I went home to bake brownies.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that we are three months away from the end of training. It feels like all that we have ever known. At some level I know that some things will change, but this way of life is just so ingrained. More or less, I made a sort of peace with the status quo a couple of years ago. Sure, I'll never like some things about being a surgeon's wife, but I just sort of let some things go because the anger wasn't getting me anywhere.

We had our first conference call tonight with our financial planner. I honestly believed he was going to spank our bottoms and put us to bed for our financial irresponsibility during fellowship. We acrued CC debt of about $1100 a month over the course of the two year fellowship period. It feels so ...wrong and inauthentic. I really don't recommend this route. We had always planned to treat fellowship differently than residency, but when it came right down to it, accruing CC debt just to live felt icky. I don't regret SAH with DD because she's off to school four days a week next year, I just don't like the consequences of our choices.

Instead of chastizing us, this guy was like, you all have done a decent job compared to most physicians starting out. :thud: This guy only works with physicians so he sees the seedy underbelly of the financial hardship of training. I was hesitant to hire this guy, but he had some great ideas.

If anything, I realize now that instead of paying off a chunk of debt during residency, we would have been better off to save more and defer the debt so that we could have had a cushion for fellowship.

Beyond just the financial ramifications, I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around a different, more balanced life. I have spent the vast majority of my marriage alone. Quasi-single parenting is the only parenting I have ever known. Last week Sean took a four day weekend and we had a ball. We took a road trip to Indy and stayed at one of those indoor waterparks and went to the Children's museum. On day three, we dropped the kids off in Dayton at the inlaws for a grown up day together. We actually went to dinner and a movie.

Honestly, the first three days were of him being around were fantastic. By the fourth day, I was like, "Don't you have somewhere you need to go?" I love him, but I needed some space. I'm used to being the benevolent dictator of my life and of our house and home. This whole negotiation thing is sort of a PITA.

Because we are at such a crossroads, I'm contemplating creating a list of things that nine years of residency has taught us. The truth of the matter is that sometimes there are no tricks or easy answers. Some years you just have to keep your head down low and push through. It sucks, but sometimes survival is the very best that you can do. You just have to tough out some of those hard years. I'm not trying to understate the pain of training, I'm just spelling out the only viable alternative that you really have. Feel free to complain away to me if you're in the trenches. There is no dark thought that I haven't had myself.

I'm feeling prone to bursts of nostalgia, however, so I'll probably come up with some sort of nonsense.

It is interesting to see the very beginning of how training has affected the kids. DS is sort of the poster child for residency. All nine years of his life, his dad was a surgery resident who basically was perpetually absent. This made me vigilant about making sure to minimize the effects on him whenever I could. Ironically, he is the child that got my undivided attention because he was our only child for five years. We lived far from family, so he had his own frequent flyer account. I worked, so he went to daycare and afterschool care, sometimes when he was sick or wanted his mommy. He always knew that he would move far away from his current home at least once.

Now that he is nine, he is Mr. Roll-with-the-punches. I see other kids who won't spend the night away from their parent or integrate into a new social setting. Not him. I also see that he got the best years of the grandparents. They were younger, in better health, and grandchildren were more of a novelty. On my husband's side of the family, this baby I'm expecting now will be number 7. Needless to say, DS2's experience will be different.

DD will be under five when her father finishes training. She won't remember his perpetual absence or some of the crazy sh*& we did to get through. She won't remember us handpacking our Uhaul and driving everything we own five states away. She won't remember daycare or beater cars or the palpable stress of a match, living paycheck to paycheck, or 100 hour work weeks.

This new baby gets older, wiser parents who just can't get worked up about the little things anymore. I'm always amazed at some of the piddly things that some of my nonmedical friends get fired up about. This lifestyle has demanded flexibility and resilience. I'm not exactly Ms. Que-Sera-Sera, but my life experiences have pounded this lesson into me.

In short, I can feel us at this crossroads in our life where I know change is coming but I can't quite get a handle on it. I joke that I have a bit of Stockholm Syndrome with residency...I'm almost fighting the inevitable breakup at some level. Change has never been my strong suit. Apparently, one of the lessons that my life is hell bent on teaching me how to be flexible.

More musings to come....

[houseelf]

April 5, 2009

Thanks for the love for the last entry! I must admit that I'm prone to fits of nostalgia. I honestly can't believe how lucky I am to have these kids. I know I kvetch (my new favorite word!) about my family some times, but I just don't know what I did to deserve this experience.

I honestly was fearful about getting married and having kids, because I liked being single so much. I liked the single girl lifestyle. Who knew that this life would suit me so well too?

I have screamed and kicked at the end of each phase of my life and feared the next one. Honestly, each new stage has been better than the last.

Sean is soooooooo happy. Did I mention that he is happy? He is like a new man with only three months away. He and my mom have been getting along famously. :thud: Sure, he can still be the terrible grump at times, but mostly he sees the finish line and is at such peace.

People have been giving him crap about buying the Porsche, and ironically, I'm the one getting hell fired up about it. If I'm honest, I had to dig deep to get on board and find my support for this purchase three months before the end of fellowship. It felt dangerously early. Apparently the hospital's banker does this all the time? I respond to the teasing with "You know that car was paid for in blood and our chlildren's babyhood". If this used Porshce bought $5000 under blue book is what the man wants, for God sakes, he has earned it."

Several of you have asked what my extravagant purchase will be. I want to quit living paycheck to paycheck and travel, camp, and adventure with the kids. Nonetheless, if I could find a way to freeze them at this age forever, I'd probably look into that as well. I mean, who will I play with when they're gone? I probably become a "cougar" like my mom is with my DS. She's got it baaaad for her grandchildren. Since December, Cade had saved $110 to upgrade to the new DS. We were adament that he would pay for it with his allowance, Easter money, etcetera. I really don't give a rip that all the students at his private school have cell phones, IPODS, etcetera.

Anyway, I find out that she took him to Target and made up the $60 shortfall. Who is this woman? She made all of us get part time jobs in high school so that we would understand the value of a dollar and appreciate thing. Apparently reason flies out the door when it comes to grandchildren?

[houseelf]

April 16, 2009

I'm definitely in my last trimester now, even my knack for denial won't let me forget. Suddenly I find myself prone to tears and slowing waaaay down. Yesterday, I started crying in the parking lot while listening to Carrie Underwood's "Jesus Take the Wheel" as well as her duet with Randy Travis "I Told You So." Maybe ACOG should recommend a ban on country music for pregnant women in the last trimester.

I am experiencing this vulnerable feeling that I can't seem to shake. Because I've done this pregnancy thing before, I know that it is part of the process. Well, at least it is a part of MY pregnancy process, but it still sucks. I can feel myself reeling emotionally but am having a hard time controlling it. I wonder if this is how people with dementia or mental health issues feel when they catch themselves slipping but can't seem to bring it back under control. It is a scary and helpless feeling, and I am only experiencing a small scale version of it considering the afflictions out there. If one must go insane, it is best not to be aware of it. It's a wild ride because it is neither constant nor predictable. I can be totally normal one moment and tearing up the next.

It has finally sunk in that we are going to have another life to care for soon. The final result of pregnancy is so abstract to me. You know these women who confess that they are completely bonded with their little one from the moment they see two pink lines on a stick? That is just not me. Sure I'm excited and like to dream, but it isn't concrete. Even after they arrive, it takes a good while before they feel like they are mine. Sure, I'm protective of the tiny creature think their cute, similar to the feelings I have about a golden retriever puppy at the park. I wouldn't let anyone hurt it but I don't feel responsible. It takes awhile for me to establish that relationship where I feel utterly and totally head over heals in love. This is one of those things that no one tells you in the four million parenting manuals we force ourselves to read hoping to get this very important endeavor "right". I employ the term "Right" as if there were a guaranteed way to ensure the successful raising of a kid. If you all find that formula, please let me know.

Pregnancy, while a miracle, also underscores the distinct power disparity between men and women. No matter how much things have changed between the sexes in the post modern world, I'm the one who gets to resemble a small hippo, fights chronic fatigue, and knows the joy of sneeze pee. For a girl who likes to get out and go in the great big world, it is a very vulnerable feeling. My husband goes to work and finds himself at this incredibly critical point in his career while my life is about to involve a lot of nursing on the couch alone for hours on end. The irony in my having these feelings is that I have relatively easy pregnancies compared to most women.

Then there are the inevitable feelings of displacing my older children. I used to try to deny this feeling because it feels disingenious. After all their lives ultimately will be enhanced by a sibling. I am a firm believer that there isn't a finite limit on the amount of love one can have. Still, pregnancy brings out this mama bear feeling about the baby's neediness displacing the needs of the older children.

Before anyone chastizes me for having these feelings, please know that I DO know what an overwhelming blessing this is. I live for my kids and cherish my life with them. I am a better person and the world is a better place for them being in it. This isn't some bullsh** statement, my kids bring me the greatest joy I have ever known. I already mourn the day when my role as mother will alter from caretaker to adult parent.

Still, their is a dark, lonely, scary, and monotonous side to motherhood that I refuse to deny or supress anymore. My laundry room has become this weird sanctuary of momentos of who *I* am or was or hope to be. It bears a U. Kentucky flag, my sorority paddle, pictures of me traveling in various exotic locales around the world, and my three marathon medals. Hell, since I don't have an office anymore, part of me thinks I should hang the degrees and licenses on the wall. They are sitting in a box in the basement next to a bunch of crap we'll never use anyway.

I started tacking this stuff up in the laundry room because I figured that it wouldn't matter if I marred the paint up in there. In retrospect, it is kind of like I'm hiding those things from the world, both literally and symbolically. That girl exists somewhere within me too. Perhaps more acurately, some version of that girl exists within me.

Just to offer the capstone to my craziness, here's a final little nugget of insanity for you. I have often said that we are done having children after this baby. My husband and I have always been in complete agreement on this. (Well before we had kids we said four. Then we had a child and a general surgery residency at about the same time and realized that we are only mortals. Four become downscaled REALLY quickly). We sold our souls to survive his nine years of training and while we love our kids, we want to enjoy our lives with these three amazing individuals. Three children are ample blessings for which to be grateful. Besides, we're not exactly spring chickens anymore, and we already have just under a decade age spread between kids. Finally, it is not like parenting is the only way to affect the life of a child.

I was so sure about this being the end that I even changed ObGyn practices in week fourteen of my pregnancy so that I could be seen by a group with privileges at a hospital that permits tubal ligations and/or vasectomies.

Over the last few months, I find myself having a hard time saying "done". I'm emotional about the fact that this will be the last baby I ever bring home from the hospital. I can't let go of this era of my life. My first ObGyn (and favorite physician ever) saw my mom the other day and inquired how I was doing. She related these feelings. Although he is no longer my physician, he provided her with literature about Mirena. I think we're going to table the discussion of "forever" for awhile and I'm going to try this for a year or two until I can find peace with the decision. (Although again, my husband is pretty adament that he doesn't want to have a newborn in a couple of years when he is 40, he knows that I'm not in any state to press the issue right now.)

It's odd because he is in such a happy place in his life right now and I feel like I'm teetering right now. He has been so downtrodden for so long. Now we're here at the end of a very long hual and I find that I'm not able to enthusiastically jump about the party train? WTF is wrong with me? Seriously, THIS emotional b.s. is my contribution to our family? While the other side of training looks pretty darn good, I'm having a hard time shaking off the past nine years. I have to find those bootstraps pretty quick because looking backwards is a fool's waste of time. I just need some time to find them.

[houseelf]

April 30, 2009

I want to apologize for spewing some negativity in an otherwise innocuous thread regarding impending training for several of our younger members. Don't listen to me....I'm just a bit jaded. I can guarantee that our journey has been an anomoly and clouded by our own frailties and unique personalities. I really don't want my contribution to the world (or this website) to be negative spew. Truly, I am blessed. Further, I still have some issues to work through which I need to do in a way that doesn't bring the innocent bystander down. This sort of tactic reminds me too much of Daddy dearest and I refuse to even go there. In other words, I'm acknowledging the suckfest we have endured (as opposed to denying it) but I want the pain and suffering to stop with me. On to better things.

My kids have both surprised me lately. As we humans are prone to do, I have mentally catalogued my kids with certain traits. For example, Cade has always been my people pleaser who can be a bit recalcitrant with new experiences. I don't think that I can think of him this way anymore. He has found this confidence lately that blows me away. He was the first in line to try rappelling from the highest point and is leading his class to run in the Kids' Flying Pig Marathon this weekend. Maybe he just needs time to sort things out. Who knows what the end personality will be? Maybe the lesson is that we can never categorize anyone even though our simple human minds almost need to make these labels so that we can process and understand the world around us.

Conversely, Kendall has always been my budding rockstar. I often joke that she will never be anyone's bitch. She is more than comfortable in standing up for herself and speaking her mind at school and within the family.

Nonetheless, recently on separate occasions, I have seen her bullied at the playground by older kids. She was on the merry-go-round when she lost a jibbet from her croc shoe that her grandma had just bought her. When I approached, I saw her on her hands and knees searching for her treasure while the older girls (meaning 6-ish) laughed at her and held the jibbet in their hand while she looked for it on the ground. Somehow I was able to restrain myself from beating some little girls' bottoms while I directed the kids to return her jibbet. Cade came upon the situation at the same time and his face indicated that he was NOT happy and prepared to intervene. Of course, this struck me as ironic because he and his sister fight like dogs over the most mundane of matters. (e.g. "He's looking out my window!!!") Apparently the old axiom that only siblings may pound on each other with abandon. If an outsider tries to tease one of them, they unite as a collective tour-de-force.

Both of these scenarios have struck with me because I feel like I really *know* my kids. I spend a ton of time with them....and yet their responses and behaviors were not what I would have predicted. Human behavior is so interesting.

Recently, Sean has been as happy as I have known him to be in years. He is so close to accomplishing everything that he ever set out to do. I’ll never forget meeting him. I conscientiously had choosen to remain single for over a year. I had decided that I was done with the perpetual fraternity boy type who just wanted to “hang out”. The next guy that I met was going to be an adult and know what he wanted out of life. I met Sean through a mutual friend and we talked for three hours that first night, ignoring both sets of our mutual friends. He was 27 and finishing up his second year of medical school. He told me very early on that he wanted to be a surgeon, get married, and have several kids. He was so clear about what he wanted out of life and he knew how to balance a checkbook, get up and go to work, define goals for himself. Damned if I didn’t get a guy who gave me exactly what I was looking for. He is as driven as man with the Demons of Hell on his heels to get what he wants out of this life. He still has major career aspirations, but he has met the big ones. He is two months away from finishing up his goal of becoming a peds surgeon. He will be a father of three in just a few weeks. A Porsche with our children’s initials on the license plates graces our garage.

I have to say that it is easier to negotiate a relationship with someone who is genuinely happy. (I know, this is not a mind boggling revelation). We spent so many years unhappy that this is a fresh breath of air. I’m going to leave this particular passage on a happy note and not talk about all of my conflicting emotions of the journey. I have hemorrhaged this particular issue all over the board ad infinitum.

We are trying to get extra life and disability insurance on him. He has struggled with his weight throughout the past decade. His weight was high as well as his cholesterol. I really don’t care about the asthetics. Honest. We have been through so much together that it seems so trivial. I do care that five individuals have come to rely on him as the bread winner. I have to carefully navigate how to broach this subject with him. I’m wise enough to know that it has to come from within him. He has the month of July off. Maybe I can get him into the gym and help him clean up his diet. He never met a salt shaker that he didn’t like.

As for me, I’m 35 weeks now and slowing way down. I still feel like there is so much to do but I’m lucky to get the basics done like laundry and grocery shopping. This pregnancy has been easier than Kendall’s because I’m not working. I can lay down during the day. I feel like even the baby is slowing down too. While I do feel him moving regularly, I don’t feel the violence of his twists and turns anymore. I want to say that this is because he is locked and loaded down and has less room.

My girlfriends threw a surprise baby shower at last month’s girls’ night out. It was touching because who expects a baby shower for number three?

Additionally, I’m trying to spend time with each of the kids because I know that this summer is going to be heavy on grandparent visits and camps. I just started Kendall on her first Lego kits. I hate that some of the better toys are marketed to boys. I refuse to buy my daughter stuffed animals and read her books about princesses while my sons get dynamic building kits and complex fantasy books. Nonetheless, as I observed with Cade, some of these gender preferences are built in. Just as he didn’t play with his soft boy baby doll and naturally developed a preference for toy weapons, Kendall leans towards relationship play amongst her dolls. I don’t fight it anymore but I do try to make sure that they get exposed to it all.

The school year is winding down and the activities are gearing up. I have just decided that some things are going to have to be missed because I’m in no state to waddle through these things as a single parent. It will be interesting to see how this month shapes up.

[houseelf]

May 15, 2009

This post is officially designated as "posting while very pregnant". I've been a tad emotional lately. I'm 37 weeks now in my third full term pregnancy and still find myself unable to grasp the enormity of change coming my way. Are we ever truly prepared for life's big changes?

The kids are at their grandparents in Dayton this weekend. I drove up Thursday night and let Cade play hooky today. We spent the night at my mom's. I played with the kids at my childhood playground. I find myself wanting to hold them a little tighter and a little longer lately. I left this afternoon with one kid at my mom's and one at my inlaws. I am so very blessed.

Sean and I are going to spend the day together tomorrow. We are going to look at two of the smaller suburbs here to get a feel for where we might want to move in the next few years, if we stay. I don't really see us in the inner city long term. I have targeted two townships that have excellent rated schools with small class sizes. Small class size is important to me which is ironic because I attended an enormous high school (class size 900) and Sean attended a small rural school system (class size 100). I am far more adament about this even though by all standard criteria my high school years were fairly successful.

In the later afternoon we plan to see Angels and Demons and then eat at a fancy pants restaurant at top of the highest building in Downtown Cincinnati. I figure this is probably it for dates for us for about a year. I don't do well with having other people watch my infants. My kids have been passionate breast feeders and refuse bottles for other caregivers which sucks all the way around. Anyway, at this point in my life, I have a lot more perspective about how fleeting a year is. I can blink and it will be gone.

I'm trying to get my ducks in a row. I've got the fridge packed and a housecleaner coming every two to three weeks. I don't have a lot planned for the kids this summer, but I'm hoping our friends and families will do a little more of the hosting this summer. Typically, we're kid central. It's not that I expect reciprocity to be equal, but I think I am going to call in some favors.

Recently, Cade ran his first road race with his school. I've been pretty adament about him not running races with me yet. That's kind of a grown up thing and it feels a little to stage mom to me. I'm thrilled that he choose to do this on his own. He loved it. I had to kind of remind myself "down girl", let him figure out what he likes. If I'm truly honest, there is a part of me that would love to a marathon with one or all of my kids someday. It just has to be their suggestion and they have to all be adults.

It was awesome to go see the various Flying Pig races. I'm normally not a crazed sports fan, but if there are two times when I am a loud mouthed fan, it's running and U. of Kentucky basketball games. I'm screaming "You ROCK" at every last runner, even the stragglers. I completely understand that they are choosing to live life fully instead of vegging on the couch watching E! True Hollywood Story and eating a pint of Ben and Jerry's. O.K. that is me who has overcome her inner couch potato. Each of them has their story and I just get choked up thinking about it. Oh how I love the smell of gel shots and power gel in the morning.

I guess the next time I post in my blog, it will tell the tale of one of the most important days of my life. I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around it. Send me healthy baby juju and capable-mom-of-three power. Oh, hell, as long as I'm wishing, send me the "mellow" baby vibes and the instantly remove 33 pounds vibe. Do you all think you can do that for me? This is one hell of a capable group, work your miracles. Until next time.

Kelly

[houseelf]

May 27, 2009

Tomorrow is Cade's last day of third grade. Kendall finished preschool last week. I looooove summer time. Over Memorial day, we joined a community pool with nice big Umbrella shade that I will be able to sit under with the baby. It was nice to have a summer weekend with the kids before the craziness begins.

I have been incredibly emotional. I'm at the bitter end of this pregnancy and all of these emotions are being dredged up. I feel like I raised the first two by myself and that is my experience with a newborn. I have this memory of me sitting by the toilet with the hot shower turned while I try to comfort two croopy kids at three in the morning while DH was on call. Honestly, some of these memories have unearthed some pretty ugly emotions about training.

Add to this mix the fact that DH didn't sleep all weekend and was crabby. He might of forgot to mention that there was a cookout for the fellows that I *had* to be at. I come home all sunscreened and sweaty and he is like "Let's Go". WTF? Seriously, I don't go to his professional functions with my hair pulled back in a scrunchy.

Not surprisingly, we had a hell-come-to-Jesus on Sunday night, the likes of which we haven't had in over a year. He was in surgeon-par-excellence mode and it flew all over me. We pulled out all of the stops. I don't mind doing it all, it actually suits my personality if you catch me in an honest mood. But I absolutely refuse to be taken for granted. Period. I deserve WAY better than this.

We have been getting along so well that this kind of surprised me. Everyone keeps telling me to "talk, talk, talk" about post training life but it has been so crazy with school, 100 hour work weeks, and the end of the pregnancy that it just hasn't happened. It is probably going to be a bit of a bumpy ride.

We did go on to make a peace with one another. It is amazing how we have this single perennial argument about his job. You would think we'd have it all resolved by now.

In other news, I'm 39 weeks now. Today I had my stress test and passed. My blood pressure is good, I've gained 38 pounds, and I'm passing some protein in my urine. On Friday morning, I'm going into be induced. I'm a little emotional about this because this is our last baby. I have toyed with the idea of waiting to see if we are really done, but after much contemplation, my head understands that we need to be done. We've been so incredibly blessed and I'm pretty sure that this is what I can handle.

In my emotional state, I've been trying to spend lots of one-on-one time with my kids. I honestly don't know where the time goes. My 9.5 y.o. should still be in his batman jammies carrying around his Thomas train. My 4.5 y.o. is about ready for college. My consolation is that I really enjoy the people that they are becoming. I have the most fascinating conversations about everything from suicide bombers to children's literature with my oldest. My daughter has become my little girlfriend. In the spirit of babying them, I spent the last two days being a "Yes" mom, saying yes to stuff I NEVER permit. I don't know if this makes me the best or worst mom in the world, but Kendall had cookies for breakfast and was permitted to get made up with a butterfly mask at the zoo today. Cade was permitted to stay up late AND play video games on a school night, normally completely verbotten in this household.

I am nervous, excited, nostalgic, and a couple of other emotions which I can't describe about being induced in two days. I can't believe that this part of my life is coming to an end. The next time we do this, we will be grandparents. I have enjoyed being a mom so much. I'm not always great at it, but it brings me such meaning and pleasure. (Most days. )

I have loooooong labors (24 and 21 hours), so don't expect any news until Saturday. I'll have Kris post that the baby is here and that I'm doing fine. I'm kind of selfish in that I'd like to tell the birth story myself. Writing is cathartic to me.

Please send healthy, easy, mellow vibes towards Cincy. See you when my new little man is here.

KB

[houseelf]

June 5, 2009

I'm pretty sure that my blog isn't formatted properly because everyone else comes up as new blog post. I'm in such a fog right now. There is so much going on at a time that I'm trying to savor every moment.

First, I want to capture Quinn’s birth story. I was originally scheduled for induction at 7 am on the 29th. I spent the morning taking Kendall to the Children’s museum for some special one-on-one time before my girlfriend came to pick her up for a “special sleepover” with her kids. Cade also had his last day of school, which by the way I can’t FATHOM that third grade is over. I picked him up and took him to Dave and Busters for an hour and a half before picking up his friend and dropping them off at a camp out. Yes, I am CRAZY to do all these outings the day before I gave birth, but I wanted some special time in the bank before the craziness came. I was actually contracting about seven minutes apart at the arcade.

My mom drove down from Dayton and helped me to get ready and time contractions. Of course, Sean was on call until 6 a.m. Friday morning. At 3 a.m. I couldn’t take it anymore, I wanted drugs. We went to the hospital and checked in 3 hours earlier. The nurse at the desk asked, “Have you alerted your doctor”. Uh, no, this is my third time doing this and I’m only three hours early. Fortunately, she was the only negative experience I had. We got set up in labor and delivery and Sean stayed in the room while my mom took me down to the hot tub. I have never done this before but it was a wonderful experience and got me to four centimeters in three hours. At 6, I returned to the room and started feeling serious contractions. I was crying and waiting for the anesthesiologist to change shifts. I honestly don’t know how women do this without drugs. The pains just keep coming. At 7ish, I received my blessed epidural and everyone predicted that the baby would come before noon. I kept telling people that I know my body and I go slow (24 hours and 21 hours) but no one believed me.

At 10 am the Ob broke my water and my blood pressure dropped to 50 over 30. I passed out and apparently became a bit tachycardic? Quickly I got some more fluids and started feeling better. It was the weirdest feeling in the world. I remember telling the doctor that I feel really awful and the next thing I know, ten people are in the room.

I quickly got to 7 centimeters and pretty much stayed there until about 2 p.m. when they decided to start pitocin. I got to ten just before 5 o’clock but didn’t feel the urge to push. I had heard whispers about the baby coming out in an awkward position, but I just thought that he would straighten it out on the way out. My wonderful labor and delivery nurse brought in the head nurse who tried to change the baby’s head position. It didn’t work. The Ob arrived and tried the same thing. I started sobbing hysterically. There is only so much an epidural can cover. I started pushing around 5 and Quinn Evan Barnett arrived at 6:03 p.m. He didn’t cry at first, which sort of alarmed me, but after they took him and stimulated him, he had a healthy set of lungs. He peed on Dad, who was so bent on examining him that he would barely let the nurse do her job. I cried buckets when they set him on my chest. I just couldn’t believe the miracle.

Sean’s parents came in and my mom went home to get the two older ones. My kids were in awe. Cade actually cried when he held his little brother exclaiming what a miracle he was.

After that, the hospital stay was pretty uneventful. I was pretty clear that I was “o.k.” with not receiving visitors. I just wanted to hold my little baby and heal. We came home last Sunday and only Sean’s parents have been to visit. Sean went back to work on Tuesday and my mom has been here all week. She has been a complete angel. Because of her help, I have enjoyed this first week of life the most out of all of my kids. Tomorrow, she is taking the two older kids to the cabin in Tennessee to go boating so I can have some special baby time.

Kendall did have a fit of jealousy the first day. She threw ginormous tantrum on the street in front of God and all his witnesses when my mom took her on a walk. She also cut up her stuffed animal with scissors while Sean’s parents visited. This has mostly passed, but believe me, I’m watching the situation.

So far, Quinn is a dream baby, my easiest one yet. He rarely cries and has slept six hours two nights in a row. I think that we are able to enjoy him more because we are older and more settled. We know how quickly this will fly by. Plus, I have a little bit of knowledge from the first two. (Ask me how things are going once my mom leaves and I’ll probably reassess).

I can’t believe that we almost decided against having a third child. Quinn brings such joy to me. Every little milestone is so bittersweet. I’m trying to savor every little minute.

[houseelf]

June 11, 2009

Tomorrow night, I will attend my husband’s graduation from fellowship. It will be a dinner exclusively in his honor with 50 to 100 people attending at a country club. (He is joining a practice of 17 partners plus other subspecialties and their spouses will be attending).
This will be the capstone of nine years of surgical training. It is almost too monumental for me to talk about in a comprehensible manner. You have to live this life to understand what this journey has been. I have only ever been a spouse of a medical student or a resident. It has shaped our marriage, our family, and our core selves in ways that I never could have imagined.
I always thought I would be able to create a list for those who followed of things that helped us survive. The truth of the matter is, I don’t think that we’ve always managed well or with grace. I’m not sure that we should even serve as an example. I can remember a time or two greeting him at the door after a 40 hour shift with something like, “We’re going to tangle”. This is *probably* not a communication tactic endorsed by any marital counselor. J
Most of the things that I would advise sound so tired and trite, and yet there is so much truth in these age old adages. Please forgive me for a bit of sanguinity.
Many of my feelings about training entail not having enough. I remember never having enough time, money, energy, or togetherness. We would get invited to dinner with his colleagues and eat two pieces of sushi while others ordered trays and drinks. We would bring our baby because we didn’t know anyone to babysit nor did we have the money. We just lied politely and said that we weren’t that hungry.
The breast pump that I just pulled out of storage reminds me of being postpartum with my first born and in some amount of pain. Nine and a half years later I can tell you that it cost $220. We didn’t have that kind of money but I really needed it. We put it on the credit card and made payments on it.
I remember being a new mom in a new , cold city with a seven month old hospitalized for rotovirus. I had just started a new job and obviously had no paid time off accrued. My boss was gracious and “let me work” from the hospital. Meanwhile, my husband went to work to take care of other patients while I sat alone with the baby who had an IV in his head and mittens to prevent him from pulling out the tube. I remember changing a tire in high heels in January in Minnesota while a baby sat in the back of the car because a nurse wouldn’t return the page of “just an intern”. Honestly, I am ashamed to admit that I remember feeling sorry for myself.
During the Spring of his intern year, I took the baby once a week to have dinner with him at the hospital. One particular night, I was having a grand ol’ pity party when I pulled into the VA parking lot. I was struggling to bring in dinner, get the bulky baby carrier, not ruin my work clothes, etcetera, etcera. A young man in an El Camino pulled in right beside me. I watched this twenty something pull a wheelchair from behind the driver seat and pull his double amputee body into the chair to wheel himself in. In contrast, there I was gainfully employed, married, healthy, and a mom to the most beautiful creature on the planet feeling sorry for myself. It was a real lightbulb moment.


Yet my tale isn’t a tale of victimization. We *willingly* trudged through and the times got better. That’s right, we CHOOSE each day to stay the course. Part of me still has anger about YEARS of hundred hour work weeks and q2 call, but I’m working through it with time.
I don’t always remember us being kind to one another or understanding of how hard the other’s path was. I know that one of our most heated perennial arguments includes the phrase “You don’t understand how hard I’m working”. We are a hell of a lot calmer now and argue far less frequently. Honestly, it would be more effective to just record this argument and let it play while we both did something else. It is the same old thing. I think his career will always be “our issue”. We might as well just accept it and move on with our lives lest we waste anymore time.
The good news is that we are stronger because of this crazy path. It changed me for the better. I am more compassionate, tolerant, and far more self-assured. I have come to believe that life is much more of an internal experience rather than an external one. Everything is the result of a choice. Sometimes the only thing you can do is to make a decision to try to endure for one more day, one more moment, or one more hour. Nothing stays the same, of this I am sure.
I spent a couple of years angry and realized that I didn’t like who I was. I finally realized that the only thing that I could change is me. I take care of myself now and don’t wait for anyone else to do it. I hire a sitter when I really need one and splurge on myself as much as I do the kids. I’m not afraid to let the grandparents take the kids or tell my husband I’m going for a run (if he is around).
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some zen surgery wife all the time. Occasionally I’m beset with the urge to thump the back of some surgeon’s head and say “knock this shit off.” (Often the surgeon’s head in question is attached to the man I married). Additionally, someone will talk about their experience on this board and some awful emotion and memory that I haven’t quite come to terms with will surface.
I do know that humor helps soothe any situation. I have exposed my marriage often at this site but I will say that one thing we excel at martially is finding the humor in anything, and I do mean anything. Cracking a one liner at the hardest moment of your life is the best coping mechanism ever. It lends perspective that this too shall pass.
Finally, I do believe in some sort of karma. If you put goodness into the world, if you do the hard work, it will pay off, eventually. Obviously this is not a quid pro quo situation, but everything comes back to you. Believing this helps me stay determined to get through and to make the right decisions. Sometimes love, marriage, parenthood, extended family, and careers are nothing but a royal PITA and cut against self-interests. Nonetheless, anything worth having generally has a crappy side to it that must be endured.
I honestly can’t believe that nine years of surgical training are coming to an end. It has been such a way of life for us. I hope that the next phase is a bit more peaceful and joyful, but there are no guarantees. To all of you still on this path, I wish you every luck and bit of love that I can muster. I’m sure that I sound bitter sometimes. I think this may be a bit inevitable in this field. I’ll never forget the newly minted peds surgery wife I met as an intern who admitted that her biggest challenge was not being bitter. Of course at the time, I was like, “What the hell is wrong with you?” I hate when I call upon the Gods to reign down a little life lesson with this kind of thinking. Stay strong and you too will get to the other side. Warmly,

Kelly