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Month 7

I’m in the home stretch. Oh my goodness. The third trimester has arrived!

And for those of you that have experienced pregnancy, you all know that such a statement brings much relief, anticipation, and gas. I’m like a living whoopee cushion. The rumbles from my digestive system are enough to scare the dogs.

And you think I’m exaggerating.

Alas.

I am filled with such joy and excitement at the thought of meeting The Sesame Seed in a handful of weeks, and yet totally overwhelmed at the prospect of having an infant dwelling in our home in so little time.

WE’RE NOT READY!

However, if she made her grand entrance tomorrow, we’d have everything we need to welcome her.

This is the constant push and pull that James and I will experience for the next 8 weeks. The simultaneous enthusiasm and anxiety, joy and dread, hope and fear.

My huge weekend at work is behind me (thank the sweet baby Cheez-its) and we have one final wedding this season, and then we are planting ourselves at home and finally organizing our lives for this newest member. Pulling out the infant tub, and bassinet, and oh those trusty nipple shields (y’all can’t have forgotten about the SUPER NIPPLE (to be pronounced as though it were a super hero, because it totally is)). And the itty bitty onesies that will send my hormones into overdrive weeping about the passage of time as I look at the toddler that once donned such wee apparel. I’ll finally, officially hire my doula. I’ll update my birth plan. I’ll talk to HR about maternity leave.

Ya know, just a handful of minor, er MAJOR, tasks.

The little one is moving more than ever to make her presence known, and while I lament such mobility in the middle of the night, I can’t help but relish experiencing her growth so intimately.

While I do not enjoy being pregnant, I am in awe of it. Daily.

I feel unbelievably fortunate that I have been provided the experience of making life not once, but twice. No matter the complaints, the discomfort, the indigestion, the swollen ankles, the pimple-ridden skin, I am grateful beyond words for this experience. And I’ll even admit that I am getting misty thinking about moving past this stage of my life. I’ll write more about that later, but I plan for this to be my last pregnancy, so as much as it is easy to focus on the frustrations of the final trimester, I am trying to stop and appreciate this time. These moments where I am carrying life with me. Inside me.

It feels like magic. And in many ways, it is.

Easy Cami in Red and Ribbed Racerback Bra in Black by be present

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* Do you want to win the Easy Cami that I’m wearing?!? Of course you do! Jump on over to Green Eyed Monster to enter!

**Photos: Courtesy of Kate Drew Miller Photography
As always, I cannot thank Kate enough for taking on this project with me. She rocks. Truly.

***Clothes: Courtesy of be present
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**** Click to see Month 1, Month 2, Month 3, Month 4, Month 5, Month 6 and deats on my partnership with be present.

Inspiration.

This photography by Stefany Alves.

Sigh.

I could be any number of these women.

(If I was about 40 lbs lighter.)

Fired up.

Addison’s Fairy Godmother, who is a brilliant and talented doctor, shared with me a link to this article in today’s NYT.

The title: Should Women be Doctors?

Seriously?!

Seriously.

To say that it had me fired up that we live in a society where people are still even ASKING such a question is the understatement of the year.

As always, what I find most appalling is that dialogues such as this are couched in rhetoric about women and motherhood, and the men stand on the sidelines. Our society’s conception of fatherhood is never under fire or being rethought. Women are the targets.

I particularly resonated with the following comment from a reader:

Eighty percent of American women become mothers. When you discriminate against mothers you discriminate against women.

Amen.

Of course, Dellie had some truly brilliant commentary on the matter, and since she is a woman who is in fact a doctor, I’d like to share some of her reflections that come from a place of direct experience.

… Cost: No one can argue that public finances contribute to medical education. However, an individual physician puts an enormous amount of post-tax money into school and residency. It is not unusual to spend ~$250,000 on medical school, with interest accruing 5-10% per year. As it was described to me at one medical school interview: \”It’s like you’re taking out a mortgage. Only you are the house.\” Then, one’s earning potential is not realized until at least 3-10+ years (depending on one’s chosen field) after graduation, if at all. Compare that with similarly accomplished college grads going into fields like law and finance, and we are 7-15 years behind in terms of professional autonomy, and hundreds of thousands (or even millions) financially behind similarly educated and trained young professionals.

Hours: Add to that working 80+ hours from the first day you walk into medical school at least through internship, and for most trainees, all the way through those 3-10 years of post-graduate training. For most physicians, this pace of work is untenable, which manifests as burnout, divorce, and substance abuse rates much higher than the general population. Not to mention that it turns passionate, thoughtful people into cold, hardened doctors lacking compassion, empathy, and key diagnostic and communication skills. A closed-off, withdrawn doctor not only makes a patient feel uncomfortable, but s/he practices medicine unsafely and misses opportunities to cure, or at least care for, patients.

That darn clock: Women have pressure to bear children young. We are terrified by the graphs in our ob/gyn courses that show genetic defects dramatically increasing after age 30. That time for reproduction unhappily overlaps with this same time of 80+ hours per week of required work. Women are forced to realize that this does not allow time for themselves, their partners, or their children (should they choose to have them), let alone for growing further passion and ambition for their careers.

Support: If you want parents (women or men) to succeed, give them the tools. Most residency programs allow eight weeks for maternity leave and much less for paternity leave. If one should have the gall to request (or require) more time, you’re looking at delayed completion of residency. This puts our newly minted physician out of the job cycle for the following year, which is a significant professional disadvantage. If we’re looking at ways for parents to succeed, give them reasonable parental leave following birth or adoption. Provide flexible child care options. Give physicians salaries commensurate with their education and experience so that they can afford high-quality child care to help them stay at work….

Give me flexibility, and I will succeed.