Tag Archives: Marriage

Let’s Talk About Vasectomies!

October 21, 2014


Do you want to know what guys love talking about? Vasectomies. Cosmo may think it has something to do with lace underwear, but no. Guys definitely love talking about testicular surgery.

I want to tell you that Austin and I don’t talk about having a third baby every week, but that would be a lie because we talk about it every day. No one wants to talk about it, but out it comes in various forms having to do with things like vacations and private school and most importantly how will we ever have time.

Practically we know it doesn’t really matter. If we have zero or three more kids, we will be fine and happy and make it work. But when two firstborn children marry each other, it is very hard for everyone to just relax.

The conversation often centers around the desire to be more than parents. We find ourselves routinely frustrated over not being able to pursue hobbies because the kids are constantly asking for refills of orange juice. Austin loves babies, but worries the stage of diapers and tantrums will seem unending if we keep the ball rolling. I know how he feels. There are many moments every day when I stop and think, this is all I can sanely handle. This is absolutely it. 

On the other hand, children are heart growers, birth is beautiful, and what about all those instagrams of newborns in sleepsacks?

Pros and cons, pros and cons.

Our plan has always been to wait until Evie is three years old and make a decision from there, but it is hard to push it from my mind. I want to know for sure if these are my last infant years. Will I really only have two little faces in the rear view mirror? Should I be keeping my baby bathtub? What if my robot arm birth control is giving me a disease? IS MY WOMB EMPTY FOREVER.

I have talked about the last baby before. From the beginning I have treasured our daughter like she is the last time I’ll ever kiss a soft baby belly, and yet I can’t help but dream about a Braverman-like crowd at future holiday dinners. I love my kids so much, why wouldn’t I want more? Won’t Waylon and Eva want more siblings? What other kind of humans could we grow!

Of course there are many opinions. Last week I read an article on the top ten reasons why you definitely should have a third child. A few days later, I read another post on why you definitely should not. Both used the word “selfish” and both made it seem like I was only one round of Clomid away from the best or worst decision of my life. It was confusing.

It is human nature to be curious about the what-ifs. I will pray for peace and Xanax. Best case scenario is that I will become more enlightened, or at the very least, more relaxed. We have time. We have two mostly nice kids. Hormonal birth control (probably) won’t kill me. What will be will be.

In the meantime, keep making babies and let me know how it goes.


The End Of Medical School or When One Door Closes, You Go Into A Worse One

October 16, 2014


A few summers ago, I gave birth to a slippery, ornery baby and then immediately moved that baby and four-ish boxes of thrift store dinnerware to Hershey, Pennsylvania so my husband could start medical school.

I have talked about being married to a student before.

For the most part it is fine. I could tell you a bunch of stories about suppers going cold or putting babies to bed by myself, but most of us have similar married-with-kids battle scars and I don’t want to be boring. And really, navigating marriage and motherhood while one person is in medical school isn’t that bad. It’s like anything else: suffer, adapt, overcome, wine.

Today Austin has his first residency interview. Tomorrow he’ll have another, and for the next few weeks and months we will drive up and down the East Coast and put on our best faces so that we might be THE CHOSEN ONES. This is a step I should be excited about, but instead I feel uneasy and generally despondent at the end of what will most likely be the easiest and fondest step of the becoming a doctor experience.

To avoid the confusion exchanged at every single extended family gathering since 2009, I have provided this timeline for your convenience.

11 Easy Steps To Becoming El Doctoro

Step #1—> Attend undergrad and spend six years realizing you don’t want to do graphic design. ✓
Step #2—> Take MCAT ✓
Step #3—> Apply To Med School and have nervous diarrhea for six months waiting for interviews and acceptance letters ✓
Step #4—> Start med school, spend first year frantically studying and making flashcards ✓
Step #5—> Spend another year with flashcards, develop ulcers ✓
Step #6—> Begin third year of med school and spend a year coming home late. To keep things interesting, have another baby ✓
Step #7—> Finally make it to the last year of med school when it is acceptable to mill around while applying to residencies. Spend life savings on applications, testing, and interview wardrobe ✓
Step #8—> Graduate, move, spend one year working whenever eyelids are open
Step #9—> Four Years of Radiology residency
Step #10—> One year fellowship in Interventional Radiology
Step #11—> Turn 40 and get first paycheck big enough to starting paying $300,000+ loans

This March, Austin will participate in what’s called “match day,” a ludicrous ceremony where nervous med students sit in a dimly lit room together and simultaneously open letters dictating their future while local news hovers and spouses sob happy and/or sad tears.

Then he will graduate and begin the six year journey to becoming an interventional radiologist, which is just a fancy way of saying he’ll be studying for a very long time.

We may move, we may not. It is all up to interviews, test scores, and a magical computer that says this person goes here and that person goes there and it doesn’t matter what the wife wants. No matter what, we’ve made a wonderful life here and it’s always hard to let go.

I will be sure to keep you abreast of our next move. In the meantime, I’ll be instagramming charmingly filtered photographs of Baltimore to convince myself I wouldn’t be murdered there and writing multiple essays on the art of moving forward. Let us not forget the wise words of my friend Mary who said, “Home is where the heart is, but dear god don’t let us end up in Jersey.”