Counting Blessings

After I posted a recent Facebook status update, "C is feeling really blessed lately," my dear cousin suggested that I count the blessings.

1. I am blessed financially.
True - we owe more than our house is worth.
True - we just had to do some major plumbing work. Oh Honey, a new hot water heater! I love it - just what I wanted! And Merry Christmas, I hope you like the new boiler I got you. And for your stocking, several hours of skilled plumbing work to bypass a leaky copper pipe.
True - I took a hefty paycut for my new job.
But more importantly, we are able to make our mortgage payments thanks to a fixed rate loan, we continue to contribute to long-term investments, our kids go to an incredible private daycare center, our trusty Subarus are in good shape, and we do not worry about whether we will be able to afford milk this week.

2. I am blessed professionally.
After 3 years of residency and 3 years at my first practice position, I have been in my new position for over a month. I work with 4 other physicians in a practice built on the philosophy that quality of care is more important than quantity, and that it is worth making less money to do good work. We all have active family lives and agree that we can work together to provide good care in the office and hospital while protecting time at home. My hours are 9am to 4pm, M/W/F, and I have no work to do at home. I have found my new colleagues to be intelligent, compassionate, devoted women. The collegiality of the atmosphere is unlike anything I have experienced before. After focusing on how I could find a job in which I could continue to do EVERYTHING, I am so thankful that this position fell in my lap. A necessary part of my job transition was recognizing that I can be a strong feminist mother and wife without having to give 100% in every aspect of everything. That just put my family on the sacrificial altar of my ideals. By stopping obstetrics (for now) and limiting my scope of practice, I have so much more to give at home and at work, and everyone benefits. What a powerful lesson I have learned.

3. I am blessed in my marriage.
M and I endured 6 years of living apart while we attended graduate and medical school. When we were reunited geographically, I was still in residency, then T was born, then I started my demanding job. I know neither of us are perfect - but I have asked a lot of M. He has stood by me, never faltering in his belief in my character, and allowing me to figure out hard lessons on my own - since I could not, or would not, hear it from him. A wise and prescient dorm-mate commented "it's a yin-yang!" when we first started dating, as there was such a contrast between my bright and shiny persona (and no, I wasn't on meth) and M's reserved realism. While this contrast leads to most of our disagreements, it also is what makes us a strong team. I do not think either of us could survive without the other. M, I love you more and more each day.

4. I am blessed by my children, in so many ways.
The two most incredible days of my life were the days my children were born. I was blessed to be able to experience unmedicated childbirth. I am blessed with an ample and abundant supply of breastmilk. And every day my boys do some new, remarkable thing. This is not a blessing unique to me - in fact, so much of it has been said so many times before that it has become a cliche. Having children means to forever walk around with your heart outside your body, and all that. I cry at least once a week thinking of how much I love them. I know I can't protect them from the world, but I can still enjoy every moment I have with them. Thank you, T and W, for reminding me constantly of what is truly important in life.

The View From The Other Side (Sort Of)

About a week ago, we awoke at 4:30am to some real cries from T's room. I opened his door to find him standing on the other side, sobbing. "I fall out of bed, Mama." Points to his shoulder as the boo-boo site. I gave him some ice (rejected) and Motrin (accepted - mmm, berry) and we let him finish the night in our bed. I had tried to find a sore spot in the shoulder or arm but wasn't successful. Range of motion seemed to be okay. So we decided nothing was broken, maybe just bruised, and carried on with our lives.

Since then, though, he hasn't been quite right. He cries if we pick him up under the arms and when we tighten the straps in his car seat. "I no want you to hurt my shoulder, Mama." Heartbreaking. Usually a rightie, he has been passing a ball from right to left to throw it. He got a baseball tee for his birthday, but runs crying to Dad after a few swings. And at his birthday party other parents noticed that he was holding his right arm bent at the elbow by his side while running.

Time for an intervention. Yesterday I called my favorite orthopedics office. "Hello, this is Dr. K. May I speak to one of the surgeons about a pediatric patient?" I should point out that I do not usually do this for our own things - when I call our family doctor or the ENT who put in T's tubes, I always go through the secretary, and never say I'm Dr. K. But this is a big ortho office and I just wanted to talk to someone and see if I should be concerned.

Dr. G was on call - they put me through to his nurse. "I'll just get him out of a room." I tried to leave a message but she was already on her way to knock on the door. Dr. G on the phone - "It's about my son, he fell out of bed a week ago and he's holding his arm funny." "When can I see him? Can you bring him tomorrow?" Patches me back to the secretary who finds me a noon appt. I'm sure he's double/triple booked - but the thing about ortho and other surgical specialties is that most of the time they can just focus on the problem at hand. They don't have to spend 15 minutes getting a history like I do and the exam is usually pretty focused, too.

Armed with snacks, we spend 30 min or so in the waiting room. Baby W entertains the other patients. Good old T - usually he clams up around new people and especially at doctors' offices, but Dr. G is so kind and gentle. "Where's your boo-boo?" (shyly points to the top of his shoulder) "What happened?" (quietly) "I fell out of bed." Gentle hands touch the shoulder then move to the collar bone, T pulls away. "He might have fractured his clavicle." The lovely X-ray tech takes us back for some pictures. She has toddlers of her own and used to work at the big childrens' hospital in the city. Knows just how to get T to sit still for 3 shots of the shoulder and collarbone, then lets him take an X-ray of his matchbook car. The films come out - even I can see the fracture, right in the middle of the clavicle.

We are sent home with a special strap that goes over both collarbones and fastens in the back - T calls it his backpack - and a sling, which is quickly rejected since he just takes his arm out of it to suck his thumb anyway. Also the X-ray of the car, a bright blue squeeze ball (a birthday present from Dr. G), and a stack of business cards to replenish the supply at my office. We have a follow-up appointment in 3 weeks and instructions to avoid contact sports. Isn't being 3 a contact sport? But anyway no climbing on the playground structure, no slides, no tee-ball. :( Happily it should heal nicely and in 3 years even the bump at the fracture site will have remodeled away.

All this nice care, good staff, gentle and reassuring doctor, and they refused to take my copay. It's never easy to see your kid suffer - but I guess there are some perks to being a MommyDoc.

My Life as a MommyDoc

This is my life:


M's alarm goes off at 5:00. He promptly gets up and goes to take a shower - having carefully set everything out for himself the night before, he is able to leave by 5:30 to drive to town.

I work Mon/Wed/Thu. My alarm goes off at 5:03. Unless I thought it was the monitor overnight and turned it off when I went to check on the baby. I change the alarm to the radio and promptly fall back asleep.

Around 6:00 my NPR-infused dreams transition to alertness. Usually this is because T yells "Mama! I wake up!" rapidly followed by "I wanna watch a movie!" He usually gets his wish so I can shower - breaking my heart when he says sweetly "wanna watch a movie with me?" I try to nurse W on one breast and pump the other to get him some food for the day.


Daycare dropoff is at 7 but I'm usually there 7:30 or 8. T always wants me to stay and play, and likes to show me around his classroom. It's always hard to leave W too - he just looks up and grins his toothless grin.


I see patients all day - I wish I could remember funny stories but more often they seem sad. I like seeing patients and our schedule is not overbooked. Between appointments I answer questions from nurses and NPs, send lab result letters, fill out various forms, etc. I try to get out the door of the office by 5:30.

M and the boys are home when I get there. I nurse W, talk to T a little, we heat up some leftovers. At 7 we start winding down with jammies and stories, maybe a bath, and 8 is bedtime. Then I try to do office work (writing notes on my patients) which usually keeps me up until 10 or 11 when I fall into bed by M.

Tue/Fri are days off so I keep T home for a few hours and go for a walk with the boys in the stroller. Then take T to school, get a shower, try to do some more notes but usually W wants to eat and play, maybe I take a nap with him, run errands, think about cleaning up clutter. 5:30 comes so fast and then it's time to make dinner. I try to cook on Tue/Fri so we'll have good leftovers on my work days.

Sat/Sun we play, get stuff done around the house, groceries and laundry. Half the time I'm on call and usually I have a patient or two at the hospital.

All the time I am thinking about those office notes - it's hard to get them done the day of the visits, so they weigh on my mind, and I am always behind. Today M was watching baseball - had T & W with him - but T decided he wanted me down there too. It is really hard to turn down a sweet three year old asking "wanna play ball with me, mama?" If I turn him down too often I will lose his childhood. So the notes go unwritten again.

When I'm going to work I wish I could stay with my kids. When I'm home with my kids I'm thinking about work. It's the age old story of all parents, I think. Not that the world needs another self-absorbed blog, but I wonder if maybe writing about it will help me adjust, even if I never find true balance. So stay tuned.