Wednesday, June 29, 2011

truth and tears

we deal with so many lies about medicine like, doctor husband = money, doctor husband = sweet schedule, doctor husband = easy life. and after you hear these lies on repeat, you start to wonder what the truth really is. . . what really happens when that MD gets tacked onto your husband's mail. sometimes it's bliss. but most of the time it's chaos.

orthoman has been doing orientation all week. tomorrow is his "day off" before he starts friday. and boy does he start! trauma surgery for the next 4 months. ouch. i feel so conflicted about the whole thing. im glad to get things moving again. im ridiculously excited to get some sort of a paycheck. but then there's the majority of my thoughts. ive been bursting into tears randomly throughout the day. something will remind me that my best friend isnt going to be right next to me anymore. that all this incredible time with him is going to disappear.

but what really kills me inside is that im going to have to deal with the hard stuff by myself again. there's no relief at the end of a hard day with the Bug. the bank account will be just as empty, but he wont be here to help split that worry. and he wont be here every time im reminded of what happened and i break down.

i promised colleen i would tell my truths so that you wouldnt think everything was all rainbows and unicorns everyday. . . one week after we moved into this beautiful house, in an incredible place, with an amazing little girl and so many bright things in front of us. . . i miscarried at 7 weeks. after months of looking forward to a positive test it had come back. i was BEYOND ecstatic. but then i woke up saturday and knew before i got out of bed that something was wrong. having miscarried before i knew that pain. and for the first time ever i looked at my doctor husband and there was NOTHING he could do. this wasnt a cut that needed to be bandaged. he couldnt tell me what to take to feel better. there was no way he could stop it.

and so the truth of being a doctor's wife is that you're at the mercy of "the schedule". sometimes that means he's home in time for a birthday party. sometimes it means that you're all alone in a new city with none of your friends around losing a baby that you already started to love. it means that your husband learned in anatomy class how to distance themselves from death and their OB rotations taught them not to become attached to a pregnancy because hey, like, 1/4 of all pregnancies end in miscarriage so you shouldnt get excited until after the first trimester and even then you should stay cautiously optimistic. but i dont give a flying fuck about that right now. it's after midnight and i cant sleep because YET ANOTHER friend has just announced they're pregnant.

and while it would be so nice to spend our last day together as a family, orthoman decided that Poker Night with his new fellow interns wasnt enough. they're playing golf in the morning and then, oh yeah, did he forget to mention that one of the reps is taking everyone out tomorrow night for a fancy dinner? dammit, i mean it's not like he's disappearing for the next 5 damn years. so i guess you could say that truthfully, im already feeling bitter.

well shit. i guess the truth is just as ugly as the lies.


  1. My DH started PGY-1 last Friday (why they start a week before everyone, I don't know). I, too, wanted the last few days with DH to myself. Instead, he drug me to a bunch of meet and greets. It is important for your husband to get along well with his fellow interns, and it is good that they share interests. I have a feeling all this fun stuff is just for orientation, and after that, your husband will only be going to the hospital and coming home.

    Also, I know what it is like to be alone in a new city with no friends nearby. I cannot imagine going through something as traumatizing as you did without my girlfriends. I feel selfish for wanting a girls night because I'm bored/lonely when you are in need of a girls weekend, clearly. I hope blogging makes you feel better, it definitely is for me.

  2. So sorry about the miscarriage! I just had a miscarriage, too. We had already told the kids and everything. It sucked so bad. Everything seemed fine, just when I had my ultrasound the fetus had died. I had to get a D&C and my husband could hardly get off to drive me to and from the hospital for the surgery!

    It is no wonder you are bursting into tears all day long! This wasn't my first miscarriage either and with my first I cried everyday for 3 months, not about the baby, just about life.

    I would be frustrated about all the social stuff too. I think I'd be tempted to call a sitter service and insert myself! I hate when they get to go to fancy dinners! I never get fancy dinners! Chad doesn't even tell me most of the time because he knows how jealous I get when he gets good food and I get mac and cheese or a pb and j.

    Dealing with the hard stuff alone is the hardest part of this whole medical mess.

  3. I am so sorry. I had a miscarriage at 13 weeks when we were living in France. We didn't have a phone in our room or cell phones and my mom was 8 hours behind us time wise. I didn't have more than 2 or 3 English speaking friends there. Felt very alone. But the best thing that came out of that was it was when Brad and I learned to rely and depend on each other first. I think it prepared us for the insanity that is med school/residency. We had each other.

    The irony of the meals out just eats me up inside. Brad would rather eat at home, yet every week he gets meals provided at their journal club. I would rather eat out, and instead it is spaghetti with the kids yet again. When he can, he sneaks home left overs or dessert for me. I just sit there and listen to him describe these fancy dinners while drooling and begging him to tell me more so I can live vicariously through him.

    I really hope you are able to find a supportive group of wives out there. You deserve time out with your friends too!

  4. I am so sorry you are having to go through this and that you feel so alone. I, too, hope blogging helps you feel better. It always does help me when I feel like I am trapped here alone every day and no one knows what I am going through.

    My first pregnancy, at age 27 (now 32), was a miscarriage at 13 weeks (before med school) and I took it very hard. Nothing anyone can say will really make you feel better, and sadly there are a lot of things people try to say to comfort that really make it worse.

    I went home and cried in my bed till Ben got home from a test he had been taking in an undergrad class. He ripped the covers off me, and said, "Nope. We're not doing this. We're Blakes. We don't sit around and feel sorry for ourselves. Let's get out and go shopping." I sniffed, sat up, mildly comforted, interest peaked, and said, "Shopping?"

    For me, it was the best thing he could have said, and getting up and focusing on something else really did help. He knows me so well. :) But that is just me, I am the type of person who needs a kick in the pants to snap me out of it sometimes. I have a tendency to spiral down in feelings of self-pity until he reins me back in. I hope you find what works for you. Until then, keep blogging. We are here for you!

  5. I am so sorry for your loss. I've been there (during our first month of med school I had a miscarriage.) It gets easier as time goes by, but right now: be nice to yourself. And cry. And do what you did here and share. You aren't alone. And we'll pray for you. And tell Orthoman that if he gets to eat out, then he better bring back treats and hilarious stories about the crazy people he works with to make you laugh.

  6. I'm so very sorry about your loss.

    I know it will be tough, but will it make you feel any better to know that you'll get used to it? The time away from each other sucks, but it gets easier. You find ways to make it work. You will get through it.

    Hang in there. And don't hesitate to lean on the rest of us doctors' wives. We know what you're going through, as far as intern year is concerned. You're not alone.

  7. (And by "you'll get used to it" above I was referring to the time apart from your husband. The pain of losing a baby, I can't speak to. I can only imagine that your heart must be hurting terribly, and offer thoughts of peace and healing.)

  8. I'm so sorry for your loss...

    The truths of this life are hard to accept. But I find that the spouses behind the doctors are the most resilient and resourceful group of people I have ever encountered. In the hospital, they always have their co-residents and co-fellows to watch their back, but the dedicated spouses are the ones who have their backs in all aspects of life and they all know this.

  9. Natalie,

    I'm so sorry for what you went through. While I haven't experienced that myself (we haven't started trying yet), I have 2 sisters who went through something like that. One of them was carrying twins, and at 7 months, one of my nephews died in the womb while my other nephew lived and is now 5 years old. He's a happy, healthy boy, but we never forget the lost twin.

    It was so heart wrenching to watch my sister go through that, and while we were all there for support, I couldn't imagine losing a child.

    As everyone has said, it does get easier with time. Don't suppress anything you feel, and just let it flow. We are definitely all here for you, and anything you want to vent or complain or cry about, tell us here! We won't tire of it.


  10. Natalie,

    I'm crying for you. I love you so much and I feel so bad I couldn't/wasn't there for you. I know you guys have been trying and you finally got ready with everything. I miss you so much I sat on my deck and cried last night. I should have just called you. I think I will next time. I love and miss you.