It's been a long three weeks since my last post. Josh is working in the ICU at UMC (or UA Healthcare University Campus as it is now wordily known), which SUCKS. It's always sucked, but now there are improvements, like the creation of a second ICU team and addition of a night float, which means he's working 13 hours days only every other day, and 10-11ish hour days the rest of the time. This weekend was his first weekend off after working 12 days in a row of this nonsense in-the-hospital-by-6 am rotation. That means Mommy has been in charge of morning time readiness for the past two weeks. And also in charge of evening pickups. And mid-day Nina drop off/pick ups as she's still not taking a bottle. And breakfast/dinner preparation. And most of the cleanup and laundry and food shopping. And, not to mention, all the duties that go along with her job outside of the house.
When in residency, I think young physicians believe there is nothing worse than being a doctor in a training program. Wrong. Being a practicing physician married to a physician in a training program with two young children is WAY worse. The only thing even worse would be to change the "married" to "separated" or "widowed". So I guess there's a silver lining?
I feel totally and completely broken. When I was home on maternity leave, I felt like I was able to be more nurturing to myself and my family. Now I feel like I am barely holding on and have only the scanty support of a husband whose job doesn't leave nearly enough time to help out at home. I was hoping to regain some of my sanity this weekend, booking a two hour yoga workshop for Saturday night. Of course, minutes before I was walking out the door, I found Elena in the bathtub covered in conditioner that I had left in the shower after bathing her on a night Josh was late in getting home from work, Nina looking on from her car seat on the bathroom floor. I almost lost it (again--at least this wasn't as bad as her squirting OxiClean in her mouth right before school on a morning I had to be at work), but instead hosed her down and left her dripping body for Josh to deal with.
The yoga workshop was good, and it was so nice to care for my body as opposed to having two beings incessantly hanging from it while alternatingly crying. But it wasn't enough to mend two weeks of constantly tending to the demands of home and work. Elena was up before 5 this morning, coming into our bed, nursing, waking Nina up, so I was turning between both girls all morning. I snapped at my snot-covered toddler before 7 am--I just can't handle the whining and neediness that comes with a bad night's sleep.
Friday night I picked the girls up close to 6 pm after dropping them off at 7:30 in the morning. Our plan was to swing home to pick up Josh, and then get beer and pizza. Elena had to pee in the car, so I ran her in the house when we got home to quickly use the bathroom. After that long of a day, she falls apart shortly after coming home... which she did Friday night. She refused to use the toilet, but kept saying she had to pee, crying and getting increasingly snot-nosed the whole time. Since I had been up since 4 am and at work in front of a computer screen ALL day (with the exception of staffing a circumcision over my lunch break), I lost it. I got a glimpse of myself, my face contorted with rage, in the mirror. It was sort of comical, but mostly just sad. Sad that I had this reaction towards my daughter after being with her for just 20 minutes, when she was melting down after being separated from her family all day.
I know this isn't forever, that Josh's hours will get better at some point, and that our girls will eventually become more independent. I feel sad that I am wishing away these days of our daughters' tiny innocence. It was nice to have Sunday brunch with Josh while the girls were with his parents, but those two and a half hours alone weren't enough to keep me from feeling resentful that the girls' sheets for school were still wet in the washer, that he had made up only two bottles for Nina and didn't place the requisite labels on them, or that he had started but not completed Elena's lunch prep. I know it's not fair--he is helping, but I still feel unevenly burdened.
I've learned that while I might be complex in some ways, what keeps me healthy and sane is rather simple: yoga, cooking, eating, sleeping, and reading. What's depressing is that now that I have a morning to myself, I don't feel like doing any of it. I've been trying to keep myself from looking so miserable, making use of my newly tailored pants and new tops, putting my makeup on quickly in the car while in the office parking lot. But I've become perhaps a bit too honest when people ask me how I'm doing. An intern innocently asked me last Friday, "How are you?" in a rhetorical way. I looked at him, my face pale and pasty without makeup, eyebrows overdue for a wax, and said sadly, "It's been a rough week for our family." Poor guy--he lowered his head and muttered, "Oh. I'm sorry." I mean, what do you really say to that? He's an intern for crying out loud--his life sucks, too (just not as bad as mine... maybe).
Anyway, so that is me and my sorry-ass life. Two more weeks of this crappy rotation that Josh is on, 12 more straight days of him leaving the house at 5:45, and not getting home until late most days. The only difference between his last 12 days and the upcoming ones is that I started off in a better place. Lord, help us all.
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