My friend Molly Ann who owns a lovely knitting store (projekt A) also makes beautiful yarn to sell there (projekt B). Each of these skeins is hand-dyed and unique. I had Sonya choose between two of them and she chose this one.

We wound the skein into a ball together. It’s a color of bluish green that’s hard to define. Partly turquoise, partly green like the Caribbean Sea. The color I imagine for a meadow high in the Swiss Alps. Or mermaid scales.

The perfect material for an airy cardigan. My first attempt to make holes intentionally while I knit these open diamond motifs throughout the piece.

So far, I’ve completed the back and part of a front panel, and I’d like to finish the cardigan by Christmas. Which should be easier, now that I’ve quit my job.

23 weeks pregnant? Starting a stressful job in a foreign country? What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking about laying a foundation for my future, continuing along the road I’ve taken towards a career in medicine.

That’s the sensible, expected thing to do. It’s the modern, feminist thing to do. Work-life balance. Career woman slash supermom.

But

It was not the thing for me.

After one week, I offered my resignation to the McGill residency program.

Yes, I quit.

Luckily, I realized that I was going to be unhappy before throwing even more years working towards a career that ultimately leaves me dissatisfied.

Everyone was very, very nice about my withdrawal. My attending Dr. S wrote me an e-mail that I’ll save in my inbox for awhile:

I wanted to tell you that the whole rheumatology team really enjoyed your presence. You were only with us for 1 week but you made an impact on everyone (doctors, nurses, secretaries and patients). I truly enjoyed working with you.

Part of me is definitely sad. I’m good at being a doctor. I like talking to patients, figuring out diagnoses. And I genuinely feel fulfilled helping people. When I’m at the hospital, I give 100% of my energy and effort. That takes a lot of stamina, especially for a pregnant mama.

Over the weekend, I realized that I wasn’t physically or psychologically prepared to handle this. My body gave me subtle clues that it’s unhealthy for me to continue, even with the humane Canadian working conditions. 

I noticed feeling exhausted at the end of the day, not looking forward to getting up in the morning. I started to dread the binder of research articles I had to read. I noticed myself starting to complain. I didn’t have the energy to deal with Sonya’s tiredness at the end of the day. Playtime became an exercise in repetitive misery.

Drex and I talked and talked. I want my life to have purpose. But what is it?

Apart from ensuring the success of my family, what do I want for myself? Is it being a doctor?

Is it?

In what else have I invested myself for so many years? Why did I spend all those hours memorizing biochemical pathways and human anatomy? All those sleepless nights being on call?

What’s my alternative? What’s my fallback plan? To throw away a perfectly good, secure career? This is crossing the Rubicon. I realize that by giving up this opportunity, if I decide to go back to medicine, I’ll have to start all over again.

Yet knowing how way leads on to way / I doubted if I should ever come back.

— Robert Frost, “The Road Not Taken”

This blog and other writing projects this past year have certainly helped me work on developing my voice. I get practice with the process of giving life to my ideas through words. And that’s powerful.

I want to be a writer. But I feel scared.

What if I paint the sky red and people laugh at me?

Artists can color the sky red because they know it’s blue.  Those of us who aren’t artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we’re stupid.

— Jules Feiffer

So I started working at Montreal Children’s Hospital. I haven’t been “Dr. Ruths” for over a year. My mentors in rheumatology have been patient. Needless to say, the effort of trying to make a good impression this first week at work has been exhausting (and, I don’t think, entirely successful).

I kept asking question after question. What does that mean? How do I check for that again? What’s this medicine? How do I order an X-ray? Is this the right form? Excusez-moi, qu’est-ce vous avez dit?

Luckily, my mom and sister strategically came to visit for the week, which was especially fortunate, because Drex became sick on Monday. Luckily, we had four extra adult hands around the house. Very crucial during this transition.

Going to sleep every night, I can honestly say that I was totally spent. Every muscle, every neuron, every emotional fiber. It felt so good to lie down and be snuggled up next to Sonya, feeling my other baby daughter tumbling around inside the womb. Strange and beautiful.

Sonya passed a few restless nights this week. Daycare. Runny nose. She’s wanted to hold me close. We lie side by side, sharing the same pillow. She finds a notch just below my neck to cram her head and wraps one of her skinny arms around me. I can smell her. Aveeno lotion and baby breath. I find just as much comfort from her presence as she does from mine.

I’m so lucky to be her mommy. I think about her all day, and I feel so very happy to come home to our little family. Looking forward to a weekend together!

My paperwork has finally, finally been completed. And perhaps all things happen for a reason? Because I am also finally, finally ready to get back to work. I begin on November 22nd with my first rotation at Montreal Children’s Hospital as a second year resident. Until mid-January, I’ll be on rheumatology service, seeing children with musculoskeletal and joint complaints.

On Thursday, I met with the pediatrics program director Dr. G and the rheumatology attending Dr. S to talk about my circumstances: not only am I transferring from another program, starting the year five months late, but on top of that, I’m twenty weeks pregnant! I dreaded what they might think of me.

And I was truly astonished by how I was treated! Utmost warmth and congratulations and whole-hearted welcome. Neither Dr. G nor Dr. S seemed at all peeved, flustered, annoyed, or inconvenienced by anything. They told me not to hesitate to talk to them if I needed any help adjusting.

I got a printout of my rights as a resident in Québec. The province has special rules for pregnant doctors. I will work regular 8-hour days, Monday through Friday, and have all weekends off. I will not be on overnight call at the hospital.

This is absolutely amazing. Like a regular full-time job.

When I was pregnant with Sonya, I took overnight call until the week I delivered, covering two floors under the neurology service, answering my pager, going up and down a flight of stairs during my thirty-hour shifts. But that was a normal experience as an American resident. Gender equality, right?

Things are different in Canada. I don’t have to prove anything. Or maybe I just happily and gratefully accept that women need special consideration now, having survived my last pregnancy with a healthy, full-term baby despite the insanity of my schedule. Of course pregnant women should be given gentler working conditions. They should have the right  to a year of maternity leave to spend time with their babies. And that is, in fact, how it is.

I belong here. I am so happy. My colleagues seem wonderful. Here are the McGill Pediatrics Residents at the annual retreat. I’m close to the middle, second row.

Dr. S gave me a binder of articles to review for my rotation. How to do a thorough musculoskeletal exam on a patient. Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. Septic Knee. Kawasaki Disease. Wow, my brain hasn’t thought about these topics in a long time. I got out my arsenal of highlighters to prepare for reading in the evenings after Sonya goes to sleep.

… And I will miss her during work. But she’s transitioned well to daycare. At least, she’s gotten used to going on Tuesdays. Every morning, evening, weekend, I will channel my love to her with ferocious intensity. And then in mid-March, I’ll be staying at home again with Sonya and her baby sister.

I am so, so lucky and so, so blessed.