On the Road to a Parenting Life

Expecting your first child comes with some fun moments.  Especially when you're husband is a resident.

• Picking an OB: when you're husband has worked with most of them and you'll see them at resident Christmas parties (which mine hosts).  
• Hiding pregnancy symptoms: When you're surrounded by doctors (and mother's who've been through it before).  Luckily, I had close to zero symptoms at the beginning, my belly didn't pop out until 5 months along (which is when we started telling people), my OB is at the hospital, not the clinic, so there weren't any residents to bump into accidentally in the one staircase and hallway, and we were ok lying to people's faces if anyone cared to ask if we were expecting (because we didn't care to tell them yet).
• Picking a regular doctor when your heart starts acting funny at the clinic where all the residents work.  Who are all either husbands of your friends, or your friends.  So I chose a female friend.  Because it would just be weird to have your friend's husband seeing you uncovered in any way.  Otherwise I have no problems with male doctors.
• Talking labor and birth with a bunch of female residents and mothers who explain things in such a clinical way.  Which is a little refreshing after all the wives tales reasonings behind funny pregnancy symptoms.
• Telling the Labor and Delivery nurses that I'd like to try going natural, no epidural.  Some interesting faces were passed around the group.  But they were still nice to me.  We'll see how that plays out in 3 months.
• In general, having men around that know so much about pregnancy.  More than the average father.  It's a little topsy turvy and funny.
• Sometimes when I ask my husband about some symptom I'm feeling and he says 'I don't know, ask your OB'.  What's the benefit of marrying a doctor, then? Besides the fact that I love him and he's super cute.  And he typically does know (or at least has a good idea), he just likes to feign ignorance to get a reaction out of me.  And it works, pretty much every time.  Adorable. 
• Realizing my husband is more prepared for labor than I am.  He's seen it, delivered children, coached women through delivery.  I've only heard him talk about it.

So we're excited to have an addition to our family.  And I really love having a medical man in the house to help me understand what my body is going through and what it has yet to go through.  But I know neither of us is really aware of what's about to happen in 3 months.  And we're stoked to find out!

I love my husband.  

And our little baby.  

Even though it's recently found my ribs.

-Rachel C. 

A Road Trip to Interviews

My husband and I have been on exactly two childless vacations.  Both were calm, relaxed, and enormous amounts of fun.  Five years and a couple kids later I find myself staring at him from the passenger seat wishing I had a wrench or something to throw at his head.

We just got home from a 3000 mile, parenting obstacle course, "family vacation" road trip.  We embarked on this journey after my husband had the brilliant idea to apply for residencies in the cities where both his brother and my brother live.  He then scheduled his interviews to coincide so we could spend a little time with their families.  Great idea and I was completely on board.  Until we actually buckled in and hit the road.

About 4 hours in I looked at my husband who was calmly driving, completely unphased by the constant whining and countless amount of questions erupting from the backseat.  And I get it.  Here are our kids, reclining in their safety approved seats equipped with more cupholders than our car, an iPad, two iPods, 37 DVDs, a bag of crappy toys, books, and all the gummies in the world.  It's awful.  When I was a kid the only people who had DVD players in their cars were drug dealers and the kid from Blank Check.  Somehow I managed to survive riding in the car.  And more importantly, my parents came out the other end completely sane.  I can't say the same for me.  I'm still a little numb, to tell you the truth.

My husband, on the other hand, is completely satisfied and happy with the trip.  He got to spend a lot more time with his family, something that is a little bit of a rarity while in medical school.  His interviews went really well and the idea of our future is slowly becoming a reality.  His hard work is paying off.  I'm sure the second his wife starts pulling out her hair or downing Xanax like Smarties he'll feel differently, but for the time being he is glad we were with him for this.

And really, I am too.  In those few hours while our kids slept in the car we got to talk about the programs, go over possible interview questions, and stare at the miles and miles of farms in western Kansas.  While my nerves were wearing dangerously thin, having us there helped calm his. 

We won't be going with him to any more interviews.  That ship has definitely sailed.  But if your spouse is anything like mine, they're going to be a little nervous every time they suit up and head off to make a great impression.  Whatever kind of support you can offer is going to help.  Maybe help book their flights, pack their bag, send a quick text or phone call the morning before the interview.  If they need affirmation, provide it.  If they want you to go with them, well...good luck!

-M. Quinn

Paging Dr. Barton

Today was a pajama day. It started out like most other pajama days snuggling with my girls in bed while watching Curious George and The Magic School Bus. I'm not entirely sure what triggered the fight, Monkey probably sat on the blanket wrong upsetting Princess, and (as usual) it just escalated from there. Next thing I knew Princess was screaming and covering her eye; my little Monkey had scratched Princess' cornea badly enough that I could see it without my glasses on. I quickly called Dr. Barton since I had no idea if this warranted a trip to the clinic or ophthalmologist. Luckily he's on a fairly easy rotation this month and was actually able to answer my call. After a few questions that I didn't really know how to answer we decided that she was probably fine but that I should bring her in so that he could check her out, just in case. Shortly after hanging up I received a text saying, "you need to come now. We have a lecture that starts in 20 minutes."

Twenty minutes?! It's pajama day! I can't go in to the clinic with me and my two girls still in pajamas at noon! I frantically start throwing outfits together, pulling shirts on, making sure my pants don't have jelly stains from yesterday's sticky little lunch hands, when Monkey decides it's the perfect time to fall off the bed. Consoling her the best I can while wrangling pants onto squirmy Princess I finally have us dressed with ten minutes to load the car, drive to the clinic, and be seen by Dr. Barton before he has to be at lecture. I buckled both girls in the car (without any shoes on Monkey, who has time for shoes anyway?!) and start backing out of the garage.

Now, I've always wished that life came with background music. So many problems could be avoided if you could hear the eerie tension building music signifying that something is about to go drastically awry. Happy moments would bring far more sappy tears with music swelling with emotion. Today, my wish came true. As I was pulling out onto the street The Piano Guys version of the Mission Impossible theme song started playing. Perfection. With ten minutes until the lecture started and a six minute drive to the clinic I was on a mission. The background music might have compelled my foot to push on the gas peddle a little harder than I normally would have. We pulled into the clinic as the song was ending.

A man smoking a cigarette and drinking a beer informed me just outside the clinic doors that the clinic was closed for lunch and, that while he had wedged a book in the door so that he wouldn't be locked out, he could not let me in since that would get him in trouble. I reassured him that it would be okay as my husband worked there. After some hesitation he decided it would be okay since I had young children with me. Thank heavens for moral citizens looking out for the health and well being of my family. I texted Dr. Barton to let him know that we had arrived. "I ran to grab food," he texted back, "just wait there." But of course, it's only natural that I would go as fast as motherly possible with two little in tow only to arrive with time to spare and Dr. Barton gone. As we waited in the lobby our conscientious friend who had so generously allowed us inside had also let in four other people hoping to be seen. Dr. Barton finally arrived and took a quick look at Princess' eye. "Well, it's definitely scratched, but it should heal just fine on it's own. She's okay." I'm so glad I went through all of that for something that was okay and would heal fine on it's own.

All joking aside, I am very grateful that I didn't have to wait for an appointment or even for the clinic to open again after lunch to have her checked. I am thankful that Dr. Barton had the time to not only answer my call, but check things out for an overly worried mother. That isn't always the case; we were lucky this time. Now, excuse me while I clip Monkey's nails.

- Clara B.