Work, Baby, Work

I didn’t start to hate DrH’s career until our daughter was born. We’d been together for six years—through all four years of medical school and one year of anesthesia residency all in the west. Now we were on the east coast for his final three years of residency. While we had always felt the inconvenient parts of him being a doctor in training, I never truly hated his job. Having a baby changed everything.

I grew up with two doctors for parents—one family practice and the other internal medicine. They practiced in my tiny hometown in Montana and took on celebrity status amongst its citizens. My dad delivered many of my friends and classmates. My mom kept their mothers and fathers sane and healthy. Everywhere I went I was told, "Oh I just love your parents. You’re so lucky." And I was. They were smart and could provide everything we needed. But I also saw how stressed they were at home and the energy they didn’t have for marital discussions, helping with homework, and decorating the Christmas tree. I knew how many hours a week I spent at daycare. In many of our home videos, my dad looks like he’s half asleep—because after delivering a baby at 4 o’clock the previous morning he probably was. I decided at a young age (as did my two sisters) to never be a doctor. I didn’t want anything to do with that life—the life of sacrifice at home to serve others. And then I met my wonderful husband.

When we started dating, he had already gotten into medical school. Right away, I shared my trepidation with him about the medical lifestyle. But he was a starry-eyed, first-in-the-family-to-become-a-doctor type and said he valued family time above all else and would never go into a specialty that didn’t respect that. And in addition to falling in love with him and knowing I would do anything to be near him, I believed him, thinking that my childhood experience was myopic—that the overworked, rural primary care physician wasn’t the only model out there.

And actually, medical school started to convince me that doctor training wasn’t that bad. Everyone told us to brace ourselves for how hard it would be. Throughout it all I just laughed to think of that, still do. Med school seemed totally doable! Being an independent woman with a lucrative job, I was happy to have my own thing going on and the space and time to meet with friends and do creative projects while he studied. We did date nights every week, went to concerts, and took little road trips on the weekends. He would study in the car. During fourth year we got engaged and traveled together for all of his away rotations, taking our adventurous wheaten terrier with us. It was a blast—a month each in six major cities, playing the tourists with our free time, planning our wedding, and visiting friends and family. I picked him up and dropped him off every day at work, exploring the city with our pup and doing at-home transcription during the days. On his days off, we sunbathed in San Diego, saw museums in Chicago, and strolled in New York’s Central Park. For the most part, we felt free and happy.

Then everybody warned us again: "The first year of residency is the worst." The dreaded intern year loomed after our wedding and honeymoon were over. Luckily, we matched for that year in the same city as medical school had been, so we were able to stay near all of the friends we had met the previous four years. I soon got pregnant and stayed busy working, planning for baby, doing home projects, and figuring out the move out east for the following year. Intern year flew by, and we were mostly still able to keep our date nights and sanity. Days off we spent at the pool or hiking and always felt rejuvenated afterwards. The best part was that DrH was truly free when he came home—no studying or applications or thank-you letters. We thought we had made it and felt like the next three years while financially hard—I was going to stay at home with our daughter in one of the most expensive cities in the US—would be emotionally and physically easier.

Wow, were we wrong! In October of this year, we welcomed our daughter into the world. Even planning for her birth was stressful beyond anything we had imagined. They wouldn’t give DrH any days off surrounding the birth, so we had to plan an induction for his vacation week (that he requested around the due date and thankfully got). Luckily I went into labor naturally one day before the scheduled induction, so he still had five days to spend with us in the hospital and settle us at home. We were lucky he had even that, and he was able to be with me through the entire process, which ended up being as wonderful an experience as labor can be. We had time to go to the first pediatrician appointment together and make sure our house was set up for our new leading lady. However, those days were over in a flash. The night before he had to go back to work, I thought he might cry (and I certainly did!). He knew once he was back in the hospital work zone, the sweet bubble of love we were creating at home around our new tiny family member would burst.

And it did in a way. As the early months of her life went by I started to get very, very bitter. It didn’t help that all of our friends and family were now thousands of miles away. But even had they been close, I wanted DrH home. He was missing so many things. I knew he had to work to support us, but did he have to work so much? Did his job have to demand everything from him? Our daughter was changing before my eyes every day, and he was only seeing it through my pictures and videos of her first smiles, motions, and baths. By the time he got home, she was often cranky and ready for bed if not already asleep. Besides, even when he was home now, I felt a huge divide of what I was experiencing and what he was. He was so tired and overworked on top of the debilitating fatigue of having a newborn that he was hardly able to participate in our family. Many times he would fall asleep while holding her. It broke my heart. I wanted my daughter to have a present and awake father, the kind I didn’t have growing up. Like my father, DrH was an amazing dad, sacrificing everything he could to make our daughter and me happy. But time and energy were two things he just couldn’t give because his job was sucking them from him.

DrH started to get bitter, too, so it made it hard for me to be supportive. When he complained about work, I was quick to agree and criticize it whereas in previous years I had reserves of energy and positivity. Before, I knew his dream of being a doctor was becoming more and more tenable, and I wanted him to succeed and to support him in it. Now I couldn’t see the positive side of it, and he really needed me to. He still loved the mechanics of what he did, but the workload was harder than anything either of us had envisioned for PGY2 mostly because his hospital had massively increased its caseload that year. He was doing his best, but he just felt he was falling behind in fatherhood. And he wasn’t even giving all he needed to at work. In every spare moment, he was supposed to be studying for his big end-of-year test, but he just wanted to play with his baby girl. He felt the constant pull of these two demands, and all his desire pulled him toward family. His priorities had changed after her birth, but he still had to provide for us. We both knew that this was what we had signed up for—that residency wasn’t easy and that he would still have limited family time. Even if we wanted to reconsider, we were in far too much debt now to do so! We often wonder how many doctors in training are in a similar boat.

Our daughter turns eight months old soon. We are thankfully sleeping more and feeling better about being new parents. We also know we are so fortunate that he has a stable job, our daughter is healthy, and we are making do. I remind myself every day that many people in the world don’t have that and that life is not easy for anyone! But I am still trying to find a new peace with his work post-baby and trying to get rid of the bitterness—mostly because it harms our situation more than helps. PGY2 is nearly over, and the months are flying by. I know that we will blink, and his last two years of residency will be over. Hopefully this will free up some family time. It is hard not to just dream of that day. But I also know that by that time our daughter will be two and a half—walking, talking, forming opinions and saying crazy things, most of which he will have missed because he was working. We say regularly that we wished the payoff were even marginally worth the sacrifice right now. He recently told me very matter-of-factly that if he had to do it all again he would have chosen engineering or even just a nine-to-five job. Maybe the payoff is coming. Maybe it will all be worth it in the end. Until then we will keep plugging away and trying every day to focus on the joy our daughter has immeasurably brought to our lives—to focus on the moments and love we’re gaining not missing. After all, life is only now.

Catherine

A Year of Firsts

Two years ago my now mother-in-law handed me a book titled "Surviving Residency: A medical spouse guide to embracing the training years" by Kristen M. Math. It’s an amazing read. I was 23 years old, seriously dating a medical student who was approaching graduation, talking about engagement, marriage, and a life that seemed like a dream. I had no idea what God had in store for me.

When my mother-in-law handed me that book, I tore into it anxious to know about what this whole "residency" thing was about. I made it to the preface and read this:

"The medical training years present unique challenges that test even the strongest relationships. Medical school and residency training require a commitment of time and emotional resources that can leave little room for family… Even with the 80 hour workweek rules firmly in place, many students and residents find that they are exhausted by the relentless cycle of stress."

Wait. What?

I stopped dead in my reading tracks. 80-hour work week? What do you mean 80-hour workweek? Relentless cycle of stress? Exhaustion?

I’m not sure if anyone else felt this way, but I can honestly say I had no idea what being married to a physician would be like. Sure, we’d dated throughout medical school and it sucked. We didn’t get to see each other very much, and I knew he was stressed out a lot, but I was never face to face with it because we lived 30 minutes apart. But I figured, shoot, once we are married, we will be living together and even if he works long hours, I still get to see him. Little did I know…

Then before I knew it…he proposed.

After about a year of wedding planning, our lives began to speed up. Within a span of a few months, there was Match Day, graduation, our wedding and his first day as an intern.

BOOM.

And here I sit a year later after celebrating our first anniversary and the first year of residency, proud, extremely proud, that we made it through.

Residency is hard. In the beginning I remember looking at the calendar each month, as my DrH would post his schedule and crying. Yes. Crying. There were rotations that I absolutely dreaded; two weeks of overnight shifts, call nights, weekend calls, all of it in new rotations he’d never experienced before as a Doctor. He was exhausted all the time, stressed beyond belief, and was scared to death that he might make a bad decision.

The first year of marriage is hard. I wasn’t used to being alone that much. I got to sleep in the same bed as my husband for about 1 month before his first night shift began. I had a lot of lonely nights and embarrassing breakdowns to friends and family. There were fights, abrupt changes of plans, and prepared dinner plates that never got eaten.

But there is a season for everything. And even though this past year was hard, SO hard, I can look back now and say, "We made it." Not only did we make it, we grew so close to one another.

One year of marriage is complete. One year of residency is complete. And there are so many more years ahead of us that the years we spent in residency will look so small compared to what we will have someday. So as we say in our group, #itgetsbetter 

We established rules to fight by. We agreed to always be 100% honest with each other about our feelings, regardless. We communicate, we listen, and we pick our battles. We forgive each other like God forgave us, and we embrace the fact we are a team. We are going through this together, and we will make it together.

My DrH went from escaping to hospital bathrooms and breaking down over the uncertainty of his decisions to a newfound confidence in himself I’d never seen before. I watched him work so hard to be a great physician and an amazing husband. He kicked some serious butt, and I am so proud of him. 

Granted, we are still growing. We are still experiencing our "firsts" as a married couple. But as most of you know, being married to a physician is hard work. It is emotionally draining, exhausting and stressful. And yet once you get your first "wins" together, you can start to look back and say, "We did it."

So keep doing it. It gets better sisters.

Love you all,

Lauren

The Worst Decision I Ever Made

…was falling for a doctor. Anyone not married to medicine won’t understand how heartbreakingly true that statement is but will shame me for even thinking about not being by his side. But, come on, you know it’s the worst.

What a shame it was when we met in college as he studied molecular biology. He put up with my endless girly shenanigans and I faked enjoying working out because a few more minutes flirting with each other was better than anything else we could or should be doing.

How terrible when he had to move far away for medical school and I agreed to go with him because although no one had gotten down on bended knee yet, we knew an important question would be popped soon enough…and that the answer would be a resounding yes.

Oh, the misery of adding a research year (to be a more competitive applicant), walking down the aisle, moving in together, and seeing what all the fuss about marital bliss was! Those early years were a mix of interviews, newlywed nights, rank lists, and mister and missus days.

And then there was residency, which meant another move (but this time thirteen hours away). Just as the ink dried on his seven year contract…TWO pink lines appeared! And then disappeared. Too soon and just two weeks before he disappeared into the hospital for intern year. The wounds of the years that would follow still sting.

Work, work, work for him. Labs, tests, needles for me.

Baby? No baby.

Family? Friends? Nope. None of those out here either.

But there were plenty of hours…countless hours of him learning how to save lives at work and then us struggling to keep ours afloat at home. No one understood what we went through to help him live the dream of being a doctor while hiding the nightmare of personal struggles.

What kind of masochist chooses this life? Who agrees to move around again and again? Who supports a career that comes with so many strings? Who works this hard with this little recognition? Because no matter whose side of the family or which friend it is, everyone applauds his dedication and sacrifice but merely expects mine. How can you not want him to succeed and do everything in your power to make it easier for him to do that? It could be worse, you know? Why are you the one complaining? You don’t work those hours; he does. Because, of course, while he’s working I’m certainly not. What kind of monster hates her husband’s job sometimes…oftentimes?

And then…BABY! And baby! And baby! And, goodness gracious, another baby. And the hours at work went on and on. As our lives grew and changed, our responsibilities increased, but only my to-do list got longer. Take care of everything I need, everything he needs, everything we need, AND everything they need too. After all, he has to go to work. Those dreadful words always coming at the most inopportune times: I have to go into the hospital. Forget missing the big events and dates! That was commonplace at this late in the game. Now the small moments, the ones that meant nothing to anyone but me and him and them, were being stolen too. Studying for boards. Reading for cases. Prepping for presentations. Falling asleep ALL THE TIME. In fact, I still don’t know how that hilarious story about his attending ended because he only got halfway through the first word before falling asleep with a mouthful of the dinner I prepared for our family. Terrible decision.

That’s right. I learned to cook! And I’m kind of good at it. I also taught myself how to pay bills, do taxes, work in the yard, collect trash and recycling, balance schedules, not miss my career right now, make appointments for home repairs and health repairs, deal with two families who don’t really get it, take one, two, three, and four babies out alone, be an independent woman AND man, remember everything, and forget nothing. I learned it all, but he has the degree and the letters behind his name. Horrible decision.

The worst decision I ever made lead me to a life where I live in a lovely home with my four amazing children and their disappearing, zombie father. My partner is never fully present. Their daddy lives at the hospital. I sleep alone more times in a week than I thought I would in a year. Everyone we know cheers him on for the incredible work he does while barely mentioning all that I give to make it possible for him to succeed. So there are moments where instead of being grateful, I curse the stars for having me look up at the stud standing in front of me so many, many years ago. The explosion of my heart in that moment left me no choice but to begin my happily ever after.

But I stay. And I always will.

Because the worst decision I ever made looks at me with tired eyes, scruffy face, smelly scrubs, an empty stomach, a full bladder, an impressive brain, a strong will, and a thankful heart. He kisses me. He hugs me. And he calls me the best decision he ever made.

BOOM goes my heart.

And who could need more than that?

By: Soraya
 

Finding Happiness After a Disappointing Match

Match Day was years ago, but I still remember feeling my stomach drop when my husband read that he matched to the second-to-last program he ranked. His rank list was so long, and he had received such encouraging feedback; it was unimaginable he would match at a program ranked down in the double-digits. I ducked out of the Match Day party to weep, overwhelmed by shock and disappointment, and even a little bit of shame.

The cry you hear repeatedly is "We got our number one pick!" People say it so often it seems like no one gets anything except their first, or possibly second, choice. The reality is the only people who say anything are the minority of lucky students who matched at their top choices. The rest of us are silenced by stigma. Admitting you matched to anything other than number one is admitting that programs didn’t want you. Programs’ decisions for who they want most are largely arbitrary; they’re picking from a pool of well-qualified candidates they just met. This perceived rejection can make you believe the lie that you’re not good enough.

It took time to pick up the pieces of my lost dreams, but I’m grateful we matched where we did. My husband’s training has been solid, and the culture of his residency has been a better fit than he would likely have found elsewhere. His career will be fine. We’ve met wonderful people and had great experiences. We would still rather have our number-one pick, but we are happy and life is good. Life works out, but it can be an emotionally draining journey to make that happen.

When dealing with disappointment from the match, here are my thoughts for survival and growth:

• Don’t envy those who did better in the match. It accomplishes nothing and poisons you and your relationships with your friends who had better luck in this fickle process. So much of it is arbitrary, and chance has a huge role in it. Congratulate your friends for their good fortune, even if it takes time for you to genuinely feel happy for them.
• Don’t resent your husband or blame him for the match results. Let go of the "if only he had . . . ." thoughts, unless there’s a real lesson to be learned that can be applied to future experiences. Everyone has shortcomings and no one knows his better than you, but let them go. Go ahead and hate the match itself if you need to channel the anger toward something.
• "Comparison is the thief of joy." (Theodore Roosevelt) Don’t dwell on what might have been because distant grass always seems greener. We aren’t close enough to see other programs’ warts, so we assume they are better than the life we are living with all its bumps and imperfections. For example, one program we highly ranked seemed fantastic. I spent too much time thinking "If only we were there, then residency would be better, he’d be working less, and life would be wonderful." Several years post Match, my husband spoke at conferences with their residents. The program had education problems and a malignant culture. The wonderful promises they’d made during interviews hadn’t been kept. But because all I’d known was their excellent presentation during the interview process, they’d seemed ideal. No residency is perfect, and if you can’t see their flaws, you don’t really know them yet.
• Don’t badmouth your destination. Whatever institution you’re headed to has people who love it and are proud of it. Disparaging the program or the town can only burn bridges. So sure, tell your mom you’re disappointed, but limit that information to your inner circle and never on social media.
• Dive into your new city with gusto. Every city has something great to offer, whether it’s world class museums, a great park, or a fantastic neighbor. There’s a treasure there somewhere. You just have to find it.
• Establish your new place as home, both physically and in your heart. Home is where you and your partner live. It’s not where your parents live, and it’s not where you used to live. Invest a part of yourself in your new community.
• Build a tribe. It takes a village to raise a child, and it takes a tribe to survive residency. Reach out to your local medical alliance chapter, get to know your neighbors, join a club, and if applicable, jump into your faith community. You will need people whom you can call on during the many times disaster strikes and your resident spouse is not available. Start building those relationships from day one and residency will be far less lonely.
• Build up and encourage your spouse. Being rejected by a long list of programs is likely just the first in a long series of residency experiences that will hurt his confidence and his feelings. Be sure to let him know that you are proud of the person he is and the doctor he is becoming.
• Find things to love in your program. I’m not saying convince yourself this is a better outcome than your top choice, but find the things that can be appreciated about where you are. There’s something to love about his program, whether it’s great medical benefits and research opportunities or fresh cookies in the cafeteria. Find things to be grateful for, even if you have to dig deep. Gratitude seeds happiness and dispels resentments. Choose to be happy where you are.

We are now preparing ourselves for a competitive fellowship match. This time I have more realistic expectations and a better attitude. I understand that matching anywhere should not be taken for granted, and getting the last spot on the list is still an accomplishment we are going to celebrate. If there are any tears this time, they’ll be tears of happiness.


By Anon.

Choose Love

Just the mere thought of board exams still makes me shudder. I’m sure I am not alone. This is my story, I hope that it helps you get through this time when it is applicable or that you can relate because you have already been through it. As a spouse in this type of career lifestyle, I commend all of you for serving your families and enabling your spouses to complete a training path millions of people dream of. We are all strong, confident and independent individuals that are up for any challenge.

My husband started studying heavily for boards about six months prior to taking the exams. If I knew what I know now, I would have prepared myself better for it mentally. Our whole entire life changed the moment he committed to a study schedule. This meant that everything we used to do together, I had to do alone (e.g., food shopping, exercising, watching TV, cleaning the apartment, taking cars for maintenance, etc.). We do not have children, yet, so my home responsibilities were not terrible. What made it the most stressful was the emotional support I didn’t receive from my husband during that time. It was almost as though he had to become a robot to get through it all.

In his specialty, he had to prepare for two board exams that were very different from one another. He said that residency did not prepare him entirely for the tests, and it was up to him to read thousands of pages of information and well as review study materials in his spare time. His schedule was vigorous to say the least. For example, we were both up at 5:30 am; he was at work by 7:00 am for lecture prior to his residency assignment. He worked a full day and then would come home at around 5:00 pm. He would study until dinner was ready, have dinner and go back to studying until 9:30 pm. We would have about a half hour of wind down time before, going to bed to wake up and do it all over again. During this time, I had a busy career myself. I was an Office Administrator for a mid-size law firm. Often, my husband would leave later than me for work and come home before I did. As boards neared our schedule did not get any easier, it only got tighter. My husband battled a large bout of depression while trying to infiltrate the almost impossible job market. Someone said on the Doctor’s Wives’ Facebook group recently, "being married to a doctor is hard; but, being married to an unhappy doctor, is unbearable". I have to agree. It was extremely tough to see him that depressed. Especially, since I gave my all to help him with his job search. I contacted recruiters, filled out applications, created online profiles, filled out fellowship applications, etc.

My husband received his only job interview offer (after 9 months of looking for an attending job) in February and within one day we had a contract on a house and a contract for employment. All of the logistics for the move and purchasing our first home were my responsibility. The wind down time that we had in the evenings, turned into discussions about what paperwork was needed by the realtor, if we had enough money for the closing, etc. My nights were busy with cleaning our apartment and keeping our 70 pound golden retriever happy and quiet with frequent walks (we did not have a yard).

As Easter neared, I asked my husband if we could visit my family, and he said only if I drove 9 hours each way while he studied in the car. I did what he said and was extremely happy that I got to see my family. He had the same rule when we traveled to see his family. I had to drive both ways and he would study the entire time. We would travel often 3 hours each way in complete silence.

Just as soon as we got used to this schedule, I realized that when I would look in the mirror something didn’t quite look right on the lower part of my neck. I brought it up to my mother-in-law while she was visiting, and she said to show it to my husband. He looked at it and said "that looks large". I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I knew I needed to get it looked at. It turned out that my thyroid was encompassed by a very large tumor (non-cancerous) and I had to have immediate surgery because it was effecting my swallowing. When my surgery was scheduled my husband’s concern was not for my recovery, but for his board exam study schedule. He stated that I needed to figure out who could take care of the dog, because he could not with his schedule. I preface, by saying I was not able to walk the dog for two weeks following my surgery (I had 20+ stitches). The surgery was an overnight stay at the hospital and I was told by my husband that he would pick me up when I was released from the hospital. When he said those words, they cut right through me. I could not believe that he was the same person I had married three years prior. I didn’t yell at him, I didn’t give him an attitude; I didn’t have a reaction at all. I just stayed quiet and soldiered on. I contacted my parents and I asked if they could come and help while I recovered from surgery. They were more than willing to come. I was cautious about what I told them because I didn’t want them to hold a grudge against him; however, I made it known that my husband could not help due to his study schedule.

We closed remotely on our house on a Friday and I went in for a partial thyroidectomy two days later. In the end, my husband ended up going with me to the hospital; he studied in the waiting room and stayed with me that night in the hospital. When I returned home, he picked up my prescriptions and that was the last I saw of him. My parents helped prepare meals, take care of the dog and cat and clean our apartment. Once my family left, he called his mom and asked her to come and help. My mother-in-law had to wash my hair for me in the sink, because I could not get the front of my neck wet and make sure I didn’t lift anything heavy during my recovery. She was also there to walk the dog. As mentioned, my husband could not do it based on his study schedule. Three days after my surgery, I attended his residency graduation meeting proudly displaying my stitches; there was no way I would have missed that day.

One week after my surgery, I had my stitches removed and I was released to go back to work and accompany my husband on his out-of-town trip for his board exams. I was happy that I could fly with him and be there for him during his two day exam. I worked remotely for my job and was there for him after each long day of exams. He ended up passing both board exams and we moved at the end of June into our #itgetsbetter home.

The moral if this story is, choose love. Throughout all that we went through during board exam season, I made the conscious choice to choose love. I didn’t start blow out fights, I didn’t hold a grudge, I just kept moving forward. Prior to my surgery, I went to a Yoga class offered at my local gym, read a lot of books, walked and ran three days a week. Those activities helped keep my sanity. Make sure you have an outlet for your frustrations during board time. Do not expect emotional support from your spouse. You will have to find peace within yourself and support from your close network.

One last thing, prior to board season, I never knew what it felt like to be at home with my husband and still miss him! It was the weirdest feeling, because he was always behind the second bedroom door studying. Further, don’t expect your family members to understand what you are going through, just make sure they listen to your concerns and help where they can. In closing, the best thing my husband has ever "said" to me was written in my birthday card this past year. It said, "I would not be where I am in my life, if it were not for your help". That comment made everything we went through, worth it. Stay strong, you’ve got this!

- Anonymous

Residency Roundup: The Good

Its easy to dwell on the negatives of residency. Many, many posts focus on the (understandably)hard and long parts of training. I thought it would be refreshing to share some positives I have found through the last 3.5 years.

My Five Favorite things about Residency.
1. No administrative stuff!- We are not responsible for any staffing, billing, RVUs, contract responsibilities, office maintenance, advertisement of practice...

2. Time off does not mean less pay- We just returned from a 5 day family trip and didn't have to think about making up the time or finding coverage over the practice.

3. Attitude toward our finances- I appreciate that during residency other people I meet don't have falsely high expectations of my lifestyle.  A huge home, a German made car, perfect skin care, kids in coordinated outfits, magazine worthy home decor and many other ideas I have overheard that a 'doctors family' is assumed to have.  While each of those items are a great/fun thing to have, I relish the time in residency where none of those expectations exist.  

4. Benefits- Our program has amazing Medical, Dental, and Vision coverage.  We paid nothing for our third child's birth!

5. Co-residents = instant friends- We feel extremely lucky to have matched with another family very similar to ours.  They know exactly what we are going through because they are the only ones in the same program!  Rarely in life are you 'matched' with someone so closely. 

We all have difficult times!  We survive.  We move on.  But, as we move on, we all need to remember that life currently has great stuff happening:) 

:)Cami

p.s. What are your favorite things about residency??

Survivor Story:  Med School, Residency, Job, and Beyond!

V and I got married in July of 2001, and he began medical school that August.  Going back further, I was in the room when he opened the acceptance letter, I was waiting for him after he finished the MCAT, I prayed with him about whether or not he would pursue medicine at all, I studied with him for college finals, I was friend to this goofy guy who played fun music in his Isuzu Rodeo and frequented coffee shops.  When we met in 1997, I had no idea we would ever be more than friends, and I certainly had no clue what our lives would look like as we stepped into his medical training as newlyweds.  

I don't believe anyone can adequately prepare another person for any experience by trying to explain her own experience.  It is helpful, to be sure, but it is when we face things on our own that we truly learn.  With that disclaimer, I've tried to pull up some memories of distinct periods of time to share.

A special note to wives of medical students:  let your husband study as much as he needs to.  Know that "your turn" for his undivided attention will come.  He loves you, he wants to do well so he can provide for you.  He feels a tremendous pressure to succeed, and to make each test, each course, count.  Support him in prayer, in word, and in deed.  It is hard to put oneself last.  It goes against our nature.  

We lived in a poorly insulated, old house in New Orleans during V's med school years.  We had one cat, and we all spent a lot of time in the room we designated "the office".  I sat with the cat on my lap, and read, wrote, sketched, and tried to stay awake in support of my husband.  He didn't have to study hard in college to do well, but the increase in information going into med school was exponential.  He would even study in bed, when I couldn't stay awake, using a headlamp to light his books.  Post-exam days I would find him catching up on sleep.  I was so anxious to be with him again, to have his attention, but there was more opportunity to practice patience.  I did a lot of praying for patience and contentedness during those four years.  

A special note to wives of residents:  this is a particularly rough part of the journey.  This is where my husband became something of a lost sheep for a time.  God nudged me constantly to pray for him, and now that we're on the other side, V has said how truly priceless my prayers were.  Residency for him meant nearly no time to nourish his body, spirit, or mind.  Running on empty for that long is almost impossible.  

V's residency was a very busy ENT program in a fairly large city.  We saw a lot of big, life-changing personal struggles around us, and went through some ourselves during those five years.  V became a skilled surgeon and a very thorough and caring physician, but at great cost to himself, and our family.  We had become parents at the end of his 4th year of med school, and I found myself doing so many things on my own.  It was harder emotionally and mentally than physically, to me.  I knew that this stage of training was pivotal to V's career, but my heart seemed to always long for more.  I did even more praying for patience, endurance, contentedness, peace, and the ability to give when I just wanted to have more of my husband.  

A special note to wives of physicians who have recently finished residency:  rejoice, be thankful together.  Keep your eyes on things that are true, lasting, and good.  The world has much to offer, but its riches fade and do not fulfill.  Remember the days of little when there is abundance.  If you are a people of faith as my husband and I are, keep asking God how He wants your husband to use his gifts and calling to medicine.  And keep praying.  Bloom where you have been planted, even if you are not where you'd hoped or expected to be!

By the end of residency, we had endured a miscarriage but also welcomed the blessing of our second child, a daughter.  Our family of four moved two hours south for V to join a seven-physician private practice.  At first it seemed ideal, but after three years we had to re-evaluate.  After weighing everything, we decided to pursue a different opportunity in a different city, an hour back north.  We learned so much about what makes a good physician, about marketing and business, and about what we wanted in V's career.  It's about so much more than tangible earnings.  

This June will mark four years after the completion of V's residency.  We feel settled; we are having a home built, our son has enjoyed his 4th grade year in this new school, our daughter is happy at home with me and will start pre-K in the fall.  We are close to both sides of our family, which is something we had always wanted.  We hope that this place will be "it".  We are still learning, too!

This is far longer than I'd planned.  I suppose I could write a book on our experiences as a couple as we've journeyed through applying to med schools all the way to being in private practice.  At least, I could write enough quantity to fill a book; as for the quality, I'll keep looking to God to give me the words.  Blessings to all.