the first trimester is only fun the first time

I had heard that pregnancies can be wildly different, not only from woman to woman, but also from one pregnancy to the next (in the same woman). Quite honestly though, I expected this pregnancy to be very similar to my first.

Nope.

This pregnancy has been different in two major ways: physically and emotionally.

Now there are no outrageous physical changes, but this pregnancy is progressing quite differently from my first. When I was pregnant with the Bean, I didn't really start to show until around 18 weeks (and even then, it wasn't very obvious). This time around? Hello 9 weeks. You've heard of muscle memory? Apparently my abdominal muscles remember being stretched out. Okay, I could hide it until about 14 weeks, but this is vastly different from pregnancy #1. I remember that I couldn't wait to have a bump with my first pregnancy... this time when I started showing I was almost embarrassed because it was so early on.

This other physical difference has been the nausea. oh the nausea. I experienced virtually no nausea with my first pregnancy. Sure, I had some food aversions from weeks 6-9, but nothing major. This time around I got queasy around week 6 and felt like I didn't step off the boat until week 15. And food aversions? Oh there were plenty. Basically anything healthy (especially raw vegetables) was out. My clean eating diet went out the window. Anything that sounded good to me (and there wasn't much) I ate. This consisted mostly of items containing sugar.

Then I got a cold.

Let me just say that I haven't puked in about 10 years. I never throw up. I hate it. I'll do anything to avoid it. This cold came with a cough. I started coughing one morning. And promptly lost my breakfast. This happened on 3 occasions. I know, it could be worse. There are a lot of women who are sick every day for their entire pregnancies (or at least the first 4 months). So I'll count myself blessed that this is where it stopped. But it was awful. And reaffirmed how much I hate throwing up.

But I'd like to talk more about the emotional difference this pregnancy compared to last time. Because this is where I've noticed a real contrast.

The first time I was pregnant I remember the first trimester as being filled with excitement and anticipation. My husband and I had a secret that was ours to keep and dream about. We read pregnancy books and every week talked about what our baby was doing and developing. Everything was new and there was a kind of magic involved. Waiting until 14 weeks to tell people we were expecting a new addition to our family didn't seem like that long to wait.

This time around, that first trimester draaaaggged on and on. I felt more apprehension this time. I wouldn't say that I was worried, but I didn't feel that same sense of excitement as last time. This is probably partly due to the fact that I have recently had a few people close to me miscarry. The reality that not all pregnancies are viable was in the background of my brain. I also kept forgetting that I was pregnant (still sometimes do). With a 15 month old to chase around and the Doctor busy with residency, I just haven't had the time to dwell on what's happening inside my body like I did that first time. And it's not new. I know the changes that are going to take place and this time I found myself repeating "hurry up already"! Now don't get me wrong, the Doctor and I were (and are) both very excited to be pregnant again. But I couldn't wait to get past the awkward first trimester.

Because lets face it: the first trimester is awkward. You don't really look pregnant yet (maybe just bloated). You don't really want to tell people yet that you're expecting (at least I didn't) so you have no excuse to give for why you keep forgetting things, are falling asleep on your desk at work, are unable to eat vegetables, or why the smell of your co-worker's lunch causes you to leave the room.

Let's just say that I'm glad I'm through the first trimester; that we can now tell people our news. And that the nausea seems to have passed.

If you're going through your first pregnancy right now, enjoy every minute. Soak it up. It's just not the same the second time around.

12 weeks pregnant

And since this is a pregnancy related post, I though I'd mention an awesome Jules et Jim maternity wear give-away that is happening over at Elena's blog. If you're pregnant and like free stuff, check it out! (and check out her blog too... it's great)!

we're expanding!

So I guess it’s time to tell you the real reason it’s been so quiet around here for the past three months. The truth is, the doctor and I are adding to our family! We are anticipating that our newest addition will be joining us somewhere around the end of May.

Of course, we’re very excited, especially now that I’ve entered the 2^nd trimester and everything is starting to feel more real (or believable anyway). Our first baby, the Bean, is now 15 months old and doesn’t really understand yet what’s going on (okay, she has absolutely no clue), but she is being very sweet, giving my tummy kisses and has learned how to say “ba-bee” quite clearly.

So that’s our exciting news. You can probably expect to find more pregnancy related posts for the time being…. just as soon as I figure out where I put all my energy….

steamy notes

I’m sorry. It’s been rather quiet around here lately, I know. The Doctor has been studying for the second part of his licensing exam, so I’ve been flying solo on the home and baby front.

Needless to say, I’ve had my hands full.

And I get lonely.

I’ll admit it.

I miss my hubby. My partner.

I somehow thought that residency would be less busy than medical school. Boy was I wrong.

Med school now seems like a sort of vacation in comparison. Summers off, classes starting at 8am, frequent afternoons off. Oh sure it was busy. Especially around exam time. But residency is double the busy.

I know, part of this probably has to do with the fact that we now have a bigger house to take care of, and a 13-month old running around. But my hubby starts work at 6:30am or earlier most days, and when he comes home at 6 or 7pm it doesn’t end. There is always more studying to be done. Cases to read about for the next day.

But I’m getting off topic. My reason for writing this post was to talk about romance. Now my hubby is a huge romantic. When we were dating he wrote me more songs than I can count. Letters and dates (planned by him) were also a frequent occurrence when we were dating and also in the early years of our marriage. It is so important to keep the romance alive.

This is easier said than done when married to a resident.

Life changes.

I've learned that it is so important to step back and regroup every once in a while; to re-prioritize our life. My hubby sometimes loses focus; he’ll be the first one to admit that. Planned date nights, when we go out without the bean and have time to just talk by ourselves without distractions are so wonderful. We don’t do them nearly enough.

But even more important is the day-to-day romance. The little things to let your spouse know you’re thinking about them. These are the hard ones to do because they take time and forethought. I started a little thing a few months back that I love.

Our shower door is glass. This means it is perfect for writing on with a dry erase marker. So I started leaving my hubby little notes before I went to bed (he usually gets ready for bed faster than I do and is out of the bathroom before me) and he would see them in the morning. And most times, when I got up, there would be a little note written back to me.

This may not seem like a big deal, but these notes brighten up my whole day. I start off my morning knowing that my hubby is thinking about me. Sure, I know he’s thinking of me during the day. But it’s nice to actually be told that he loves me and is thinking about me.

Residency is stressful and demanding. And I think it’s even more stressful if you don’t have a good support team at home. This is probably true of many jobs. I’ve taken it upon myself to pull my hubby out of his studying fog every once in a while and remind him that we’re in this together, and I need him too.

It’s too easy to just sit back and wait for the romance to happen (and you could be waiting a long time). Sometimes husbands need a gentle nudge.

coming clean

Here it is folks, the promised blog post about our newest food adventure! I’m linking up today with my good friend Laura over at Mommy Miracles for Thinner Thursday; her own journey towards a healthier life.

I love food. 

Good food.

I really do. 

My mom might tell you I'm a bit of a food-snob. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen.

Recently, we have begun “eating clean”. For those of you who haven’t heard about this way of eating, quite simply, it means making healthier, smarter choices in our everyday diet (shouldn’t everyone??) This essentially means eating food in as close to its natural state as possible (think lots of fresh fruit and veggies). We try not to eat any refined or processed foods (the big ones include refined sugar and white flour). We also limit our dairy intake, and make sure we choose low-fat options. We try to eat every 2.5 – 3 hours, consuming a complex carbohydrate and lean protein at every ‘meal’. That is the gist of it, but if I’ve piqued your curiousity and you’re looking for more information and delicious clean recipes, I encourage you to check out one of my favourite blogs here.

Now you may be wondering if my family began eating this way because my hubby is a doctor. After all, doctors definitely have plenty of knowledge about health and how your body breaks down food. And doctors should definitely practice what they preach about good nutrition and healthy lifestyles. Right, right? Hah. I guess that calls for another Fact or Fiction blog post. But no, that isn’t why we chose to change the way we eat.

The catalyst was actually our Bean. She has begun to eat what we eat, and while this is great (no more making separate pureed meals), it has resulted in a more conscious look at what we’re putting into our bodies. Secondary to this was the fact that both the Doctor and I wanted to lose a bit of weight. While I managed to lose all my pregnancy weight rather quickly, we were both hoping to shed the extra pounds we’d put on in our 7 years of marriage.

Quite honestly, our eating habits are fairly healthy. My mom is an amazing cook and I learned a lot about cooking fresh, wholesome food from her. But the Doctor and I had our unhealthy tendencies.

For those of you that know me, I am a self-proclaimed chips and dip addict. Seriously. Does it get any better than crispy, crunchy, salty potato chips and cool, creamy, tangy dip? Let me proudly announce that I have not partaken in this incredibly unhealthy treat since March (that's 6 whole months people). Now I’m not saying that eating chips every once in a while is terrible. But I had a habit of indulging myself every week. Pairing this with an ice cold Coke. Bad.

So with the combination of the Bean scrutinizing our every move, and exercise alone not producing the results we desired, we decided to try clean eating for 2 months and then re-evaluate.

My cousin Krista was raving about her results and the benefits of eating clean.

I have to admit. I was skeptical.

I really didn’t think that changing the way we eat would result in any dramatic results. But I dutifully cleaned my cupboards of white pasta, white flour and all things “unclean”. And we embarked on our new food adventure.

Nine weeks later, I am elated and quite honestly, rather astounded. I have lost a total of 13 lbs. This is a lot for my 5”4 frame. Add it to the 6 lbs I lost through exercise and it means I have lost a total of 44 lbs since giving birth to my daughter one year ago. And more importantly, I feel great. Really great. I am about 5 lbs away from what I weighed at our wedding.

At this point, I am trying not to concentrate too much on what the scale says (although it does feel so good to step on it every morning and see a number in the 120s again). The Doctor and I feel so good, we have decided to make this a permanent lifestyle. And I am feeling confident that our Bean is getting the best start possible.

I can eat cookies on this diet momma??

More clean eating posts to come I promise! I feel I’ve only scratched the surface here.

amazing race admission (part 2)

Here is the second part of our story, detailing my hubby’s entrance to Medical school and how we got to where we are. I felt it was too long for one blog post, so be sure to read Part 1  first!

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .

When my hubby re-entered our small humid room in Bangkok, it was to tell me that it was actually his parents on the phone. He had been accepted into Medical school. His long-time dream was finally coming true.

Did I mention the Medical school was in another province?

And we had 4 days to get there or his spot would be given away.

What a rush of emotions. I remember the first feelings of pride and excitement for my husband. I was so happy for him. We had waited a long while for this day. We just didn’t expect it to happen then.

Then the selfish disappointment. We wouldn’t be able to finish our Thailand adventure. And then the slight panic and worry. We had to buy new plane tickets to get home. We had to move 20 hours away from our friends and family. We had to find somewhere to live and get all of our stuff there.

We stayed in Thailand for another 2 days and managed to get in a bit of adventure before our new flights home.

For those of you who know the Doctor, he is fairly mild-tempered (he grew up with two sisters) and I can honestly say that I had never seen him angry until that stress-filled ride home.

We had been married for 2 years at that point. Somehow in his panic to book us new tickets home, the Doctor booked me a ticket in my maiden name. I had no piece of identification with me in that name. Needless to say, it took a while for them to let me board the plane in Bangkok; luckily their security is rather lax.

We had a lot to think and talk about.

And then we had even more time to think than we bargained for when we missed our connecting flight in London. Although we landed on time, we had to deal with increased security (remember the liquid bomb scare?? We happened to connect through Heathrow the day after. Let's just say that 2 hours standing in line when we had a flight to catch was not my idea of a good time). Their security seemed to be trying to make up for the lack thereof we experienced in Bangkok.

After asking the security officials multiple times if we needed to be moved ahead in line, and receiving multiple assurances that we would be "fine", we got to the gate for our connecting flight and our plane was still there. But, they refused to let us board since it was 5 minutes past the allotted half hour before take off. This was before they realized that the name on my ticket didn't match the one in my passport. My husband lost it on the Air Canada representative.

As in "THE PLANE IS RIGHT THERE!!!" "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE CAN'T GET ON??!" "OF ALL THE INCOMPETENT, STUPID...."

I had to gently suggest that he wasn’t helping the situation and that perhaps he should take a seat while I figured things out.

The Doctor’s nerves were shot.

After booking yet another pair of tickets (this time in my real name) with a different airline, we eventually made it back home. And we remembered once again that we have a loving God who has a plan for us.

Some may chalk up the following details as fortunate coincidences. I choose to believe that there is an all-knowing God who cares about the intimate details of our lives.

1. My parents happened to be on the East Coast of Canada, on a road trip. They were staying minutes outside of the city we would be moving to. They had a trailer with them that had an extra queen sized bed. We were able to contact them from Thailand and ask them to stay in the city and start to look for a place for us to live. When we arrived we had someone to pick us up from the airport and a free place to stay. *sigh of relief*

2. My hubby’s dad had some extra vacation time and was able to take some time off work to rent a u-haul and drive all of our belongings out, while we flew in order to make it to the Medical school in time.

3. We had 1 day to find somewhere to live before school began for the Doctor. My parents had set up a number of apartment viewings. I have never lived in an apartment. I was un-enamored with every one we saw. At the last viewing I spotted a cute little house across the street. A ‘For Rent’ sign stood in the window. We called the number and were able to see the house and sign the lease that day. The landlord had put the sign up the night before.

As I look back on our crazy adventure and see how every detail fell into place I can't help but see a design; that God’s hand was in it.

There. Now you know about our mishaps along the way and how we (barely) got to where we are. As hard as it is to be away from our friends and family, we feel we are where we're supposed to be.

amazing race admission (part 1)

ah September.

A new school year is starting and I’ve been thinking back to the very start of Medical school for my hubby and the crazy adventure it took us to get there. Working at the University, in the Medical school building, I’ve seen the brand new 1^st year Medical students taking over the hallways in packs. Looking all young and fresh. Not yet fully aware of what they’re in for.

I thought I’d share our story of how this whole ‘journey to doctordom’ started. I think it’s an interesting tale and I hope you will too.

This blog post could probably be more aptly named “The story of how we got to where we are”. But I thought it sounded too wordy.

Our adventure began in 2006. My hubby had just graduated with his Master’s degree and I had just graduated from Teacher’s College. My husband was wait-listed at 2 Medical schools but we weren’t very hopeful that he was going to get into either of them.

So we did what any responsible, newly graduated couple would do.

We moved out of our house. We put all our belongings in storage.

We went backpacking.

Intending to figure out our future when we returned in September.

We spent 3 weeks in Europe, taking in the sights, sounds and foods of four different countries. It was wonderful. It was fun. We hardly thought about our futures. Kinda.

And then we made the logical jump over to the beautiful country of Thailand (okay, not so logical, but it’s a place we’d always wanted to visit). After floundering our way through Bangkok’s hectic neon streets, we found a guesthouse to bunk down in for the first few days of our stay.

Then we dragged our tired jet-lagged selves to a tour company and booked 2 weeks of adventures throughout Thailand. We spent the rest of the day navigating the streets of Bangkok, eating delicious (and cheap!) food, emailing our families, and making a few purchases at the market.

What happened next is so clearly imprinted on my mind. And yet, it’s foggy because we were barely coherent when it occurred.

We were sharply awoken at about 4am the next morning by a pounding on our flimsy door.

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK”  “HELLO? Tel-e-phone!”

We sat bolt upright in our bed and looked at each other. Strange country. All alone. Obviously tourists. No way were we going to open that door. We had read all the cautions before we left. We weren’t going to be lured into a trap. And robbed. Or worse.

We replied with a tentative “No thank- you!”

Ten minutes pass.

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK”

“HELLO? Tel-e-phone!”

“Um. No thank-you!”

Hubby and I stared at each other, unsure of what to do. Perhaps this was a legitimate phone call? How? No one knew where we were.

Another 10 minutes.

“BAM BAM BAM”

“HELLO? TEL-E-PHONE!”

“BAM BAM BAM”

“TELEPHONE”

Hubby, finding nothing to arm himself with, cautiously opened the door a crack.

“Hello?”

“You have telephone”

The frustrated woman stomps back down the stairs. Hubby looks at me, shrugs his shoulders and follows her.

I stay in my room where it’s safe. Except now I’m alone.

10 minutes pass.

Hubby finally re-enters our room. And I’m unsure how to read his face.




to be continued...

Fact or Fiction: Doctors are cool and hip

You know those doctors you see on TV or in films? The ones the girls are always trying to catch because they’re handsome….and rich….and cool? Well, I’m here to tell you the truth.

Doctors are nerds.

Especially mine.

I know plenty of doctors. And deep down? They’re all nerds. Oh, they may appear hip at first. But get to know them a little better and you’ll soon find that your nerd-alert radar has started beeping at a high frequency.

This nerdiness is most recently apparent in the form of a phenomenon occurring in my husband. He seems to have lost his filters. You know those filters that tell you when someone has lost interest in your conversation, or when you might be talking over their head? Virtually non-existent in my husband.

It wasn’t always this way. It used to be that he could tell me about his day and I would understand everything he was saying. In fact, sometimes I used words that he didn’t know. The further he advances in his medical career however, the less I comprehend what is coming out of his mouth. What is worse is that he doesn’t realize that he is no longer speaking normal, everyday language. It’s those non-existent filters. Lately, a frequent conversation goes something like this:

Me: “What did you do today”

the Doctor: “Oh, we had this patient with (insert long latin medical term) and so we had to (insert 

obscure name for medical procedure)”

Me: “Um, was I supposed to understand that??”

the Doctor: “Really? Everyone knows what (insert medical word no one knows) is!”

No they don’t.

And sometimes, I do understand what he’s saying, but it’s uttered in such a nerdy fashion that I have to do a double-take to see if he’s joking.

He’s not.

One of my favourite examples is this:

the Doctor (while feeding our daughter dinner): “HELP! Bilateral hand soiling!!”

Apparently she had gotten both (bilateral) hands in her bowl of food (they were evidently soiled).

Who talks like that?

Nerds do.

Don’t worry everyone. I have made it personal mission to try and pull my hubby from the depths of his nerdiness and to incessantly constantly frequently remind him how it is that normal people speak.

So if the next time you’re having a conversation with my husband you can’t understand what he’s saying. Please, just tell him. He’s not talking over your head on purpose.

He’s just a big nerd.

trying not to let the nerdiness rub off on me...

one year

I know it’s a cliché.

Everyone says that time goes by too fast.

Everyone says they can’t believe it when their baby turns one.

But it’s true.

One year has flown by. I guess time has a tendency of doing that.

I still remember her birth day so vividly. The feeling of awe and overwhelming emotion when I held that brand new little person for the first time.

And now we are celebrating that day. The day you entered our lives. Little bean, I don’t know if you will ever know how much joy and happiness you bring your daddy and me.

It was so nice to be able to celebrate the bean’s birthday with family. 

Part of being a doctor’s wife means that we had to accept the location my hubby matched to for residency.

We got our second choice.

It’s a great second choice. But it means we live 20 hours away from our families (or a 2 hour plane ride). So it was very special that we could make the trip home and share our daughters 1^st birthday with family and friends.

I am so enjoying the little person that our bean is developing into. Her sense of humor, of wonder, and discovery. Her obvious delight in life. I can’t wait to see what the next year will bring. I just hope it doesn’t go by too fast.

Happy birthday to you my sweet girl. Your momma loves you so incredibly much.

Fact or Fiction: Doctor's wives lead glamorous, cushy lives

Ha.

This one gets me. I’ve seen it happen more than a few times.  Apparently being married to a doctor is a symbol of status.

“So, what does your husband do?”

“Oh, he’s a doctor”.

Then there is something that happens. I can see it behind their eyes. Stereotypes enter their head, most likely acquired by television dramas or Hollywood movies. And they form an opinion of me.

Sometimes it’s more light-hearted, like “nice catch!”. But the implications are there.

I must lead a privileged and glamorous life. After all, I’m married to a doctor. I must be “set” for life. After all, I married a doctor.

Well, let this be the second myth I debunk. My life is certainly not very glamorous or cushy. It’s actually quite ordinary. And I certainly didn’t marry my husband for the money. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t spend my days shopping for my Fall Wardrobe and attending Charity Teas while the nanny looks after the baby and the maid cleans the mansion. In actual fact, I work part-time, take care of the bean, clean our small house (when I have time) and never buy anything that’s not on sale.

Now let me be fair and say that our life-style will change one day, once my husband has completed residency (and fellowship?) and is actually hired as staff somewhere. Oh, and we pay off our debt. But we’re talking another 10 years here, people. And even then, I don’t expect to be a “kept” woman.

I’ve joked before with other doctor-spouses that we’re earning our PHT degree (that’s Putting Honey Through). Medical students, Residents, and Doctors work incredibly hard. But so do their spouses.

I'm not a trophy wife. I'm not an accessory.

I’m right alongside my hubby, supporting him in the best ways that I can, working hard to make this life of ours work.

welcome to my glamorous life...

Have something to say? Or another myth you want me to debunk? Please leave your comment below!

Fact or Fiction: Doctors are rich

*snort.

Sorry.

When my hubby and I started out on this journey, I was under this false impression too. Doctors drive fancy cars. They have big houses. They go on luxurious vacations. Little did I know what I was in for…

Let me start with a disclaimer: this blog post is not intended as a complaint, nor am I looking for pity. I’m just trying to tell it like it is, people.

Becoming a doctor is quite the expensive, trying process and I’m afraid I’m going to have to stop and explain a bit of it here. If that doesn’t interest you, please skip ahead.

A medical career begins in Undergrad. You have to get really good marks in all 4 years (like, really good) and take really hard Science courses (did I mention I majored in English?). And you should probably also volunteer somewhere (preferably medical) every year, and take interesting trips to other parts of the world. This looks good on your application.

Then you have to write the MCAT. It’s a little 8 hour exam that you have to study months in advance for. And you have to do really well (like, really really well).

Then you can apply to Medical schools. This is a laborious and fairly expensive process. If you’re lucky, you’ll get an interview (or 2 or 3). You then face a subjective panel of physicians, community members, and med students who decide if they think you should be accepted. If you do get in (some people, like my husband, have to complete a Master’s degree and apply again), you’re overjoyed, and relieved that the process is over. Think again.

Medical school is 4 years long in Canada (except for a few schools that don’t have summer breaks and git’er done in 3 years). In your second-last year you better start to figure out what you want to specialize in and start completing electives (across the country) and research projects in those specialties. This is the part no one told me. Getting into Medical school is just the beginning. You have to apply to match to a residency-training program. So even though you’re a Dr. after the 4 years, you can’t practice medicine until you complete your residency (used to be referred to as an internship).

This residency matching process is referred to as CARMS.

shudder.

The memories are still fresh.

In this process you apply to the programs that you want to match to. A residency training program is anywhere from 2-6 years long. A family medicine residency is 2. Most surgical residencies are 5.

If you get interviews (and you better hope you do), you have to fly to the different cities across the country to interview. Once your cross-Canada tour is over, you sit down and rank the programs from 1 to whatever. The program directors also sit down and rank everyone they interviewed, from 1 to whatever. Then a computer makes the best match. You log on in March and ta-da, find out where you’ll be for the next 2-6 years of your life.

What?

Yep, a computer makes the best match, and you are contractually bound to accept that match. For the next 2-6 years of your life.

Then there are fellowships, which can be completed after your residency to further specialize, but I think I’ve explained enough for now.

Let’s get back to the money.

Medical school for my hubby cost about $14,000 a year. And you certainly can’t work while you’re in Medical school. Hello, line-of-credit. Then you add all the crazy expensive and intimidating textbooks. Plus any medical tools (like stethoscopes and otoscopes), also not cheap.

Remember those electives and then the residency interviews he had to fly all over the country for? Also out of our pocket.

Then my hubby began residency. Surely the money would start rolling in now.

Or not.

If we calculate my husband’s wage, based on the number of hours he works, he makes about 15$/hour. I made $16/hour as a teenager, working as a lifeguard at the YMCA.

And when he’s on-call and works 13 hours through the night, saving lives? Here’s 110 buckeroos (about 8$/hour).

Needless to say, we have a crap-load of debt. An incredibly huge crap-load.

Now when he completes residency, finds a job (yet another, not-so-easy process), and starts working as a staff doctor, yes the pay is quite good. But we have many, many years of debt to pay off. 

I don’t see any fancy cars or big mansions in our near future…

Are you or your spouse in the medical profession? I’d love to hear your comments.

the very beginning

Hi. And welcome to my blog. I'm really glad you're here.

Seeing as this is my very first post (gulp), I thought I’d explain my reasons for starting a blog, and what you can expect to read about here.

Let me start by telling you a bit about myself (woah… flashback to awkward first days of school). I'll start by telling you that I’ve been with my husband since high school and we just celebrated our 7^th wedding anniversary.

He’s a doctor.

That’s part of the reason I started this blog. You see, I think there are a bunch of misconceptions and false impressions surrounding being a doctor, and more importantly (from my point of view) what it’s like to be a doctor’s wife. So maybe I can debunk some of those here. It’s been a long road so far and I really wish I’d started this blog when my hubby was in Med school. But better late than never, right?

I should probably clarify that my husband is a resident. For those of you that understand the difference, you’ll get this important distinction. Yep, he is a doctor. He has completed medical school and has an MD behind his name.

But he is still a resident.

He has 4 more years of specialty surgical training to do. I’ll explain this more in a future post!

I’m also a new(ish) mom. My baby girl is about to turn one and she lights up my life. So this blog will most likely feature some of the joys and challenges of raising a baby (while being married to a doctor  resident). It will be a way for me to look back and remember my thoughts and feelings at this stage in my life, and to share and gain advice from you!

And I’m a big foodie. I love food. I spend a lot of time in the kitchen and really enjoy sharing and trying out new recipes. We’ve recently embarked on a new food adventure. More on that in another future post (I have to keep you intrigued, right?)

Lastly, I like to write. A long time ago I majored in English. I’ve read a lot of books and written my fair share of essays.

I have things to say.

And I’d like to share them with you.

nice to meet you!

    the bean, hubby and me

Note: I’ve thought long and hard about sharing my family’s life and mine with you. I wouldn’t say I’m an especially private person; but I’ve also never shared like this in a public arena. I’m going to reveal as much as I can. But there are some things I’ll do to protect the privacy of my family. I’ll refer to our daughter as “the bean”. It’s what we’ve called her since she was a little jumping bean on my 19-week ultrasound. And I’ll refer to my husband as “hubby” or “the doctor”. I hope that's okay with you.