It has been ages since I last updated this blog, so it’s time to catch up. Many of the thoughts and concerns that used to fill my head have changed dramatically, but some have not. My tireless drive to be the best doctor and surgeon I can be have not changed, but the demands that temper that drive have.

For one thing, this happened:



And that’s pretty much all it took to turn my world on its side. In a good way, but a sleepy way (note dark circles under eyes during maternity leave aka “vacation”). If I thought I was tired, worn out, hardworking, or efficient as a surgery resident, I was wrong until I added the word mom to that title. Entirely different story.
I was blissfully unaware of what was in store for me as a mother, despite 10 months of pregnancy to prepare for it. I wasn’t the kind of pregnant person who reads books on parenting or goes to labor classes. I treated my pregnancy as a slight annoyance to my everyday job as a surgery resident, and gave it the least possible attention it deserved to make sure the little alien growing inside was healthy (despite me, really, not because of me). It wasn’t that I was not excited about the baby, or that I was willfully neglectful—I simply didn’t have the time or energy to prioritize both the baby and my job.

Flash forward 3 months after giving birth, and that attitude is a distant luxury. As are the few indulgent things I used to do in my free time before baby—go to the gym (or even belong to the gym), get a pedicure (or cut my nails at all), eat a warm meal instead of two protein bars…and the list goes on. The mommy instinct kicked in full force immediately after Baby K was born, and after a short 6 weeks of leave I found myself with two equally demanding jobs. Neither of which I could shortchange (somehow Baby K’s physical presence in my arms makes him easier to prioritze than his little kicks in my belly). I briefly toyed with the idea of formula feeding to save myself 6 pump sessions per day, but could not reconcile giving Baby anything less than the best unless it was not humanly possible (and isn’t everything humanly possible, at a cost?). I also (very) briefly fantasized about putting off residency to do one important thing at a time, but that wouldn’t work either. The only thing to do was burn the candle at both ends.

5 weeks back at work, I am incredibly thankful to say that I have started to get a bit more sleep, I’m getting back into my groove at work, my milk supply has not diminished, and baby is doing fine. I have not been fired from work for any fatal sleepless mistake or surgical complication, as much as I dreaded that possibility at first. I am a little worse for wear, as the mental, physical and emotional price of mommyhood during surgery residency (or vice versa) is higher than I ever thought possible. Maybe that’s because I’ve had an easy life so far, and not because the burden is great. But either way, I am adapting—I have learned to take pleasure in things like making my lunch every day and how many ounces of milk I pumped, rather than how long I was able to spend at the gym or the nice dinner reservation I have coming up. It is not lost on me that this is an incredibly precious time of my baby’s life, and I intend to savor every minute I am with him despite other demands.

The other demands, however, are no small thing. Residency is long hours and long years—at the age of 32, I still have 1.5 years left of residency and 2 years of fellowship left to become a vascular surgeon. And then I can finally START to establish a career at the ripe old age of 35. During this time, I am supposed to be acquiring as much knowledge and experience as I can in between working 80-100 hours a week in order to become the very best doctor and surgeon I can be. This is the foundation for a lifetime of service to my future patients. A sobering thought, when I now spend so much of that precious time on baby things, whether it’s pumping, feeding, bonding, or playing. And what happens when he gets a bit older and demands even more of my time and energy?

I don’t have a solution to this problem yet. I have never felt so distinctly FEMALE (as a negative thing) as I did when I stepped back into the hospital my first day after maternity leave—figuring out how to pump in between cases, acting as chief resident on half a brain, operating for the first time in weeks, and generally feeling so out of place at work. Over time, the feeling has become less acute, but it manifests itself in different ways—that chapter I wanted to read but didn’t have time for, the manuscript revision I am not actively working on, the academic meeting I can’t attend because I took maternity leave. How much of my insecurity as a new mommy (both in mommyhood and residencyhood) is perceived and how much is real? I don’t know, and I don’t know that it matters. It’s there. I can only hope that I find my footing, and in the process, learn to be the best mommy and surgeon I can be.