Lately I've been composing long, eloquent posts in my head. They are voluminous. They aren't written because I've thought better of it. Mostly they were constructed out of a woe is me attitude about the difficulties I face married to a surgical resident.
Which is all bunk.
Or not bunk really, it is hard, but I don't want to validate those feelings by writing them down. These feelings will fade and I will remember other things about this time because those are the things I will focus my energies on.
With that in mind I thought I'd sit down and write out some of the things that I enjoy about being married to a surgical resident. Not the things I will enjoy years down the road, but here and now there are wonderful things that I love about the life that I'm living.
First of all, I take great pride in the fact that I have a husband that has chosen a profession to help serve people and better their lives. And also I love that that is one of the reasons he chose this profession (because that's not a reason for all physicians). He can come home and tell me how he helped someone today. The sacrifices we make in seeing him at home are worth it because, in small part, our sacrifice helped someone else live a better life.
Another thing that I like about being married to a surgical resident is my independence. I enjoy doing things my way. Hmm, that may make me sound like a bit of a dictator, which as every parent knows is far from the truth with this gaggle of geese. But for much of my life I chose the next step. What happens when we get home? What will we do after dinner? Why are we going out right now? When to squeeze in the nap? Will we take a fun trip to the park or stay home and play? Our schedule doesn't depend on his. Honestly it can't and that was something that was hard to get used to, not waiting for Daddy, but now that our situation has been flipped we find it hard in the other direction.
I love that I married a man that can work with his hands. Right now we are in the midst of a bathroom remodel (pray for us) and I realized something while poking my head in during the tile saw cutting. He uses the same type of tools and materials at work. He uses the bone saw, he uses cement, he uses all sorts of tools that look like torture devices to me. He knows how to use them and I'm grateful that he does and I'm grateful that he summons the energy to use those talents here at home.
I love that my husband is safe, or as safe as anyone can be really, while he works. My husband isn't a soldier, he's not a fire fighter, he's not a police officer, he's not even a cable man for the power company. He will be called (or will call himself) to work during emergencies, horrible weather, and times of panic but I can send him with a reasonable expectation that he's going to a hospital, not a burning building, or the front lines of a riot or even up an icy telephone pole. I love that he has the confidence in me to leave trusting that I am capable of handling things here at home.
Well, the kids are up for the day so I have to be done. Final thought to myself: Don't forget the light just because you're looking at the shadows it makes.