mom friendly career

i often find encouragement and wisdom from mom blogs, usually mom/medicine blogs. the question of whether or not being a doctor is a “mom friendly” resurfaces often both by those currently in the profession and others aspiring to. as i fall into the latter category, i don’t have experience doctoring and mothering from which to draw on when answering that question for myself.

however, i do have experience working as a mom. this christmas eve i spent 12 hours as a unit clerk for a hospital. it’s a fantastic job as far as flexibility and physical demand, both of which were important while i was pregnant and the flexibility remains key. that said, it pays $11.87 (after a recent raise) and is not fulfilling in any sense of the word.

so to the question of whether a physician makes a good career for mothers: what are you comparing it to? because when i compare it to the uncertainty i faced as an unemployed pregnant woman, it makes a damn good career. when i compare it to the soul-killing work as a secretary, it makes a damn good career.

i don’t anticipate life as a physician to be anything less than demanding but i would rather make $150 an hour than $15 an hour if i have to work christmas eve either way. i would rather find my career fulfilling in a way that makes a happier mother/wife when i am home. i would rather be an example to my children that women make excellent leaders and following dreams are worth risk and work.

like i said, i am years away from first-hand experience of mothering while doctoring but it is looking like an excellent career for this mom.

fear

the more you have to lose, the harder it is to not let fear creep into your decision making…at least that’s what i’m experiencing now. i recently lost a high school friend to an ATV accident and, like the rest of the nation, am processing the elementary school mass shooting. this is just added to the seemingly endless amount of tragedies filling the news and serious health concerns of loved ones filling my inbox. life is short. it could end at any moment and there’s nothing we can do to guarantee it doesn’t.

my recent past includes frequent motorcycle rides, high speeds in the back of pickups, nights out in less than secure areas, living in an unsecured, unfinished house where police seldom travel…excitement, adventure, adrenaline. that lifestyle was consciously traded (for a time) to focus on taking care of a baby and going back to school. but now that i have that baby and husband and life that i love, the thought of risking any of it seems too much.

i don’t want a normal life, a boring life, a safe life. if you’re never willing to take risks you’ll never gain anything…but the potential benefits have got to be much greater to warrant a risk these days.

learning

This past semester was all about learning. The obvious: Biology. The not so obvious was how to be a mom/wife/student/employee/friend/daughter/human, all at the same time. But I did and I think it all came down to embracing a long-term vision which requires sacrifice and selfishness in the present.

It didn’t take long to realize that how I was “balancing” everything was not working (demonstrated here). After being out of school for a few years and never having taken a science course in undergrad, it was taking me longer than anticipated to catch on to studying for a science course. My manager was less than sympathetic to my situation and while we agreed on transitioning to part time in August, it wasn’t until December that everything went through. As expressed here, I felt very strongly that exclusively breastfeeding my son was important and that required lugging about a breast pump and extra time and stress. Then there was actually taking care of an infant, which is synonymous with sleep deprivation. Added to that was the stress/sadness of being separated for long periods at a time. Family, of course, wanted to come meet Mr. Bump and while I loved seeing them, and probably even needed to for my happiness, it meant time not resting and not studying.

Then there was adjustment for the other half of my life equation. Bet and I have lived through months of struggling to meet just the very basic necessities (clean water, food, etc.), so our relationship is definitely strong enough to withstand less sleep, more stress, changing roles, and less time together. That being said, it’s still an adjustment.

But we all made it. Not only that but we made it out with an A, a job(+raise), and better relationships. The transition happened after I spoke with a pre-health advisor and remembered the words of a recent Olympic champion. I couldn’t decide if I should drop my math course. Wouldn’t a DR on my transcript look bad? He broke it down for me simply, “Are you sure you can make at least a “B” in this class?” I was not. “Then maybe you should drop it. You need to think long term. As a physician you will always be balancing immediate decisions with long term effects. One dropped class will not have the same long term impact that a lower G.P.A. will.”

I dropped that class 15 minutes later and have never for a second regretted anything other than not trusting the terrible reviews I saw of this professor online before I ever signed up for the course in the first place. But back to the Olympian. Four years ago she made it to the Olympics and medaled, but didn’t win. This year she was back and determined for gold. She explained (paraphrasing–see closest thing to the interview I could find here), “I have wanted this gold for so long. I knew I could get it but to be prepared I was going to have to be selfish. I had to choose practice over friends and family, over rest, over play.” She made those sacrifices for four years and for the rest of her life she will be an Olympic gold medalist.

My vision is long term. It is for my children, my husband, myself. It is for communities that deserve better health. So for now, I sacrifice. I spend nights reading instead of sleeping. I spend days studying instead of playing. Breaks are necessary and I take those too. If anything, this semester proved that rest and family time are essential. But if I stay focused on this goal I will some day soon be Dr. Pearl.

Having It All

Several weeks ago The Atlantic ran an article called, “Why Women Still Can’t Have it All.” Despite the popularity of the article I avoided reading it because do I really need one more person telling me that my dream of a successful career and family is unattainable? I didn’t think so. Curiosity or boredom won though and I’m so glad it did. I had misjudged the overall message and it turns out I agree with her thoughts.

While I am just beginning the never ending process of balancing family and work (and school), I am already hitting one of the key points of her essay. A recent conversation with my husband sums it up. “If you switch to day shift then your sleep pattern will normalize, helping everything else,” he suggested to me. “Right, but then I will miss an entire day of Bump’s life every week.” His quick response, “It’s only one day a week.”

In my mind one day a week is a sacrifice I don’t want to make. My baby is changing so fast. He needs me so often and more telling: I need him. I need to be with him in a way my husband doesn’t. I miss him when I’m gone in a way my husband doesn’t. And that’s speaking of a father who gladly watches him three nights a week, changes diapers, feeds bottles, reads stories, and loves to play with his son. (Not to mention he makes meals, washes dishes, and does laundry. Yes, he’s amazing–not just because he does those things but because he is the type of man who gladly does that for his family.)

I can have a husband who truly is an equal partner, even one who would willingly do the majority of house work and child-raising and still face an internal challenge that men don’t have to. Society is currently designed in a way that requires much sacrifice in the way of time and distance from parents. It was set up by fathers and fathers continue to propagate the system. I know now it’s not just absent, uncaring fathers but also loving, attentive fathers. There is a difference in the relationship between a mother and her baby and a father and his baby.

–Disclaimer: Yes, I’m generalizing. I’m glad there are women who don’t have the desire to have children. I’m glad there are mothers who are fantastic mothers and don’t have the internal struggle I am talking about here. However, it seems that most mothers do. Maybe there are fathers who face this too? Not sure…

As Anne-Marie Slaughter said, “Ultimately, it is society that must change, coming to value choices to put family ahead of work just as much as those to put work ahead of family…If women are ever to achieve real equality as leaders, then we have to stop accepting male behavior and male choices as the default and the ideal. We must insist on changing social policies and bending career tracks to accommodate our choices, too. We have the power to do it if we decide to, and we have many men standing beside us.”

Eventually I will be in the type of position where I can encourage these changes. And for the sake of my career, aspirations, and bank account I hope it will get easier as he gets older. For now I think I’ll keep working at night and play with my son during the day.

parenting fail

it hasn’t actually happened yet, but i’m coming increasingly closer to what i feel is the first time i’m failing my son. my days of nursing bumperton are numbered. the benefits of breastfeeding are well-documented and widely accepted. because of this i made it a goal to exclusively breast-feed until we started introducing solids and then continue to transition until bump is one. he’s five months now and we’ve started introducing solids and have never had to use formula. so why does the fact that my frozen milk supply is dwindling and my daily milk supply is no longer quite enough feel like such a parenting fail? and why is it so surprising that my supply would shrink when i’m working full-time nights, going to school three days a week, and dealing with the general stress that comes with life right now?

probably not logical, but the feeling of failure paired with the sense of loss that comes with each phase of growth and a special loss of the connection nursing brings has me down. and it hasn’t even happened yet…