Home

There are many things about home that make me happy. I like the exact shade of pale green on our living room walls. I like lying in bed with one cat curled up against either side. I like the confused look Winnie gets when she has to clamber over my bump to sit on my chest. The way Chloe head-butts my hand and meows in my face as soon as the alarm goes off in the morning. I like reading on our plushy cream couch; lying there with D’s hand on my belly.

There’s been a subtle shift in what I look forward to the most in the future: it centers around home, not work. I think sometimes that medicine has consumed enough of my life: I want to be an excellent surgeon, clinician, and teacher, but I don’t feel the drive to run pell-mell to the next best training program. I want to make a happy, safe, and healthy home, with lots of children. I want D to feel free to pursue his career wherever it takes him.

I’m not sure how this change happened, but I see it for what it is: a desire for greater balance in my life, and the willingness to make the choices that would lead me there. I’m grateful for the sense that this is okay, for all the people and experiences that have laid the groundwork. I feel the baby kicking and I think, I am the only one in this world who can be her mother. I look at D and think, I am the only one who can be his wife. There are other doctors, and students, and daughters.

I used to be afraid of whether I’d be able to make the choices when the time came. I still struggle with the pressures at work a bit, but somehow it seems like relatively little to give up, when I think about the things that truly bring me joy in life. I know difficult moments are still ahead, but that’s mostly why I’m writing this down now. For the future.

Week Twenty-Seven