Distance

About a week ago, I got home while it was still daylight and got out of my car to find the kids at my neighbor's house. Colin was running joyfully around the backyard, in a furious lightsaber battle with the older boys. Caroline was carrying on a very deep conversation with my neighbor, telling all about her day. I sat down and scooped Caroline up into my arms, breathing in her sweet baby smell. She smiled and laughed before spitting up all over me.

"Katie! You didn't tell me that Caroline could roll over already!" My neighbor looked at me expectantly, but was visibly shocked when my eyes welled up and tears spilled over.

"I didn't know, actually."

I just finished an incredibly demanding rotation. The hours were greuling and the work was constant. It was incredible learning and the people I worked with were wonderful, but I never saw my kids. I left hours before they woke up and came home only in time to put them to bed (on a good day). Patrick did 90% of the parenting for more than a month. The other night, when Colin woke up a feverish, sweaty mess, he cried for his Daddy. I put him in our bed and he and Patrick snuggled, Colin with his thumb and his MaiMai, while I laid in Colin's bed, trying to get Caroline back to sleep after all the wailing.

This morning, I happened to have a late day, and I took the kids to school. As I walked in, I realized that I had never taken Caroline to school. Ever, in her now eleven weeks of attending school. Colin has changed classrooms since the last time I was there, and I didn't even know which one was his. I didn't know where his coat hung, how to sign him in for the day. He looked at me curiously and said, "It's okay for you to go now, Mommy."

It was the first time I questioned my choices.

Why was I even in medicine? It wasn't what I started out to do, so how did I end up here? Why am I a mother to two perfect children if I'm not going to be with them? Who am I to give advice to pregnant women about being a mother when my own son calls for someone else when he's sick?

This post is not going to end with a shocker about how I'm dropping out of residency. Not even close. I love this work and look forward to coming to the hospital every day. I am unbelievably grateful for the opportunities I have been given to participate in the care of women.

But this post also isn't going to end with a happy story about how we all snuggled on the couch and giggled until we fell asleep. I didn't know Caroline was rolling over because I never put her down once I get home, instead holding her close to me and breathing in her sweetness like a drug. I quiz Colin incessantly about his day and his new classroom. Who are your friends? What color is Your Spot? Do you like the potties there? How awesome is your new, big playground?

By the time the kids are fed, washed, and asleep, I have nothing left. Patrick gets the absolute worst of me, the part that is left over after everything else has been taken during the day. If we're lucky, we  will swap stories from the day and pow-wow about the plan for the next day while we pass out in bed, but most nights I am asleep within an hour of putting the kids down.

I haven't figured this out yet. I don't want to wish away my life, live for tomorrow. My kids and my husband and my life is here now, and that deserves my attention and so much more. I give everything I have left to them and tell them a thousand times in that hour or two how much I adore them, cherish their every breath. I kiss them enough times to make their skin red and chapped, but it still feels inadequate, too distant. I expect that this pain will dull, but I can't imagine that this ever gets easier.