Guest Blog from the artist formerly known as the DQ: Reflections on Life, Love, and Growing Up

Mike has been bugging me for a while to write a guest blog entry. For some reason, every time I sat down to write I was stumped -- and it's not like I don't have a lot of things to ponder. Maybe it was too much though.... my mind would scan and scan and never fall on one thing that really needed to be said.


But my very good friend, Sushma, just had her first baby (a girl) on Easter Sunday, and I've been thinking about her a lot and what she is going through right now.... after all, it was just a mere 7 ish months ago for us.


One thing that I realize more acutely now: you really do fall in love with your kid. I mean, it was overwhelming at first, the miracle of childbirth (even though I've seen it dozens of times), and I definitely felt the awe at the beginning. But then the maternal abuse begins q2-3 hours, and you sort of forget for a little while. But these last 3 or so months, I now realize, I have woken up every day excited to see my child. I just raced home from a night shift just to see her before she goes to day care, even though I pretended it was because I was just "sure" Mike (a full-service dad if I've ever seen one) would need help getting her ready.


This was never felt more than when I was in Haiti in February. I had not been there in a long 18 months (due to the rigors of pregnancy and then recovery from the delivery and then breastfeeding). These 18 months were filled with changes not only for me and my personal life (new city, new job, new house, new baby) but also for the Health Center (new second floor, new resident doctor, new ultrasound, new kitchen/chicken coop, then the tragedy of the January 11th earthquake). I had been missing my clinic -- this was the longest by far I had ever been in absentia -- and nothing, not even a massive earthquake and an adorable 6 month old baby, would keep me from there. Not to mention that in the days following the earthquake, I was in agony knowing that my status as a French/English/Kreyol-speaking doctor would have been in high demand there.

The bags were packed, the organic baby food made and frozen, the grandparents imported, and the charter plane was made. I remembered everything. It was only for 8 days, so I figured it would be no problem for me, or for Mike and Kemper. I bounced in a tiny plane with 4 colleagues over to earthquake-ravaged Haiti (another blog entry in itself), and nearly immediately missed Kemper. There was still breast milk to be pumped (Mike's blog about me not wanting to give it up in the end was true), but no joy from the Pizz. Thankfully the internet exists, and there were videos and e-postcards from Mike nearly every day. My clinic was doing awesome too, despite my absence and the earthquake. Like I never needed to be there at all. I walked around in a little daze was sorta sad about that at first, but it was eventually taken in stride, as half my heart was left at the Green Machine anyway.

So, after an wonderful and surprisingly relaxing 8 days there, followed by an exasperating delay home, I finally got back to the GM at 11 pm one night, and ran straight up to the nursery to hold my baby. Just like a crazy mama, one that I never thought to be. The next day I floated in limbo, not quite knowing what I needed to do.... the routine had changed when I was gone and I wasn't quite sure where I fit in anymore.

But this is the thing about being a parent, especially a busy parent -- you constantly hope that your little one's life won't be too disturbed when you are off doing other things, but then when you find out your absence was tolerated with just the smoothness for which you had hoped, you are mildly disappointed that you weren't missed more. It's a big lesson of humble pie -- and in February I had to learn it twice in 10 days.


So, I think I'm pretty much doomed to learning this lesson again and again. As Kemper grow and future BY's come along, my trips to Haiti will be more challenging. I assume the humble pies will get bigger and bigger, too. Add a side of parental and spousal guilt to that and it makes for a pretty stressful picture. But since I love my family, and I love Haiti (although both can seemingly survive without me) and I love working as a doctor, I just need to get used to it. I am the most fortunate woman in the world to even have my wonderful family, to have been blessed with the abilities to serve the Haitian people, and to have the opportunity to take care of patients. So I guess it's a good thing to be reminded from time to time to be thankful and humble for all of these great things.



I think Kemper is finally teaching me to grow up. Shouldn't it be the other way around?