When Fellowship Year Finds You Living Apart

This summer my husband and I will celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary. We got married the month before he started medical school. Our journey is not complete yet. He is currently doing his fellowship, which is great. It's the last step before he gets to begin practicing! It feels so close to the end of this journey; however, this year has turned out to be the most trying of them all. Forget intern year and not seeing him for days at a time. Now, we see each other once a week, maybe less if he is on call. You see, my husband is doing a fellowship 500 miles from his family. That's right, we are living apart. Throw 3 kids in the mix, one of whom was born three months early, on the second DAY of his fellowship YEAR, and just writing this sentence makes me wonder how we are doing it!

Our situation intertwines the rigorous world of medical training with the challenges of a preterm birth. We were planning on all moving during fellowship year. He matched in a fun town with plenty of entertainment for kids. It was going to be a year long, fun filled family adventure, during which we planned to welcome another child, as I was six months pregnant when he started. To make it easier for me, my husband moved a week earlier than the rest of the family, to get everything set up and ready. He would come back the next weekend and we would all drive down to begin the fun. Unfortunately, that never happened. I unexpectedly went into labor 3 months early. I called my husband, and he frantically made the 7 hour drive and arrived shortly before our daughter's birth.

Plans change. Fellowships continue. Marriages grow. With our daughter's birth and subsequent 79 day hospital stay, came unimaginable challenges. She would be medically fragile, even after discharge, and could not travel for several months. There would be no family move. We faced a choice about what my husband should do about fellowship. If he went back to finish the fellowship, I would be left alone to deal with a baby in the hospital, as well as two kids at home. If he quit, he would no longer be able to accept the job that was already lined up for next year. We both knew he had to finish the fellowship for the long term good of the family.

So, when my two pound daughter was 5 days old, I drove my husband to the airport and tried to assure him that he was doing the right thing, I could handle it, we would be fine, etc...But as soon as he was gone, I did, of course, cry my eyes out. I was angry that I had my daughter so early and that she was on a ventilator and struggling to live. I wondered how much more this medical school, residency, and fellowship journey could ask of me. How would I parent my older kids without him? How could I face going to the hospital alone each day? What is something terrible happened and he wasn't there?

My mind took me to unimaginable places, but at that moment, I made a conscious decision to put one foot in front of the other, and carry on. Sure, I thought it would be easy to tell him not to go, and my husband would have done whatever I needed him to. But I thought about the past 9 years, everything we had sacrificed to get to this point, and if we wanted it to pay off, he needed to finish this last leg of the journey. Plus, the practical part of me realized that our health insurance was through him, and we needed it big time. So on that drive home from the airport, I let it all out, and it was UGLY! Anger, fear, uncertainly, I let it all drip down my face in hot tears and escape my body in audible cries. I needed it all out so I could face the coming days, weeks, and months with strength.

About five miles from home, I dried off my face. My 6 and 4 year old were waiting at home with their grandmother, and with everything that past week had thrown at me, I knew it must be even more scary for them. Summary of their week: Surprise! Baby sister is here way too early, and we can't take her home for a LONG time. Oh, and we aren't moving anymore. Daddy is going to be living separately. Pretty confusing for kids, huh? I knew I must be their strong spot and make it seem okay, even if I wasn't really sure myself.

I pulled into the garage, walked into the house, and told them that daddy blew kisses from the plane and would be back next weekend. Baby sister was fine. They were very brave, and we would get through this.  I carried on as usual: Bath time! What do you want for dinner? Bedtime in 5 minutes! All the while with the weight of the world on my shoulders, my heart in the NICU, and my husband far away.

I thought about us 9 years earlier, at the beginning of his journey to becoming a doctor. We were so young. I had no idea what it would take of me, my marriage, and eventually my children to get through it. I hope to be able to say it was worth it some day. I pray that my husband is blessed with a successful career and is able to help many people, medically and otherwise. I hope my girls understand that their daddy loves them so much that he would do whatever it takes to give them the things they need in life and how much he cares about helping others. Perhaps that will soften the stings of the missed school activities, dance recitals, and bedtime hugs and kisses.

While I don't recommend living apart during fellowship year to anyone, I can tell you that I no longer take my husband or children's presence for granted. Sure, there will be long hours in the future and call nights and all the other things that go along with being married to a doctor. But complaints about that all seem so trivial, especially with what we have been through with our daughter. When you have had a sick child, it changes you. I will never go back to the person I was before. The 22 year old girl who started this journey is gone, and a 32 year old woman and mother will finish it.