The Marathon Runner

My PI is a marathon runner. I've often said that I would never run a marathon because it's so bad for so many parts of one's body, and that half marathons are better, and the fun would be about improving your time. The picture is not my PI- it is Joan Benoit, one of the greatest marathoners of all time.

I said "I love the part at the very beginning when you can hear everyone's shoes against the pavement. It's so exciting and it pushes me along."

"Oh, I hate that part- it makes me nervous and I lose my pace by starting too fast."

I can learn from this woman. Not that enjoying the excitement is bad, or that I shouldn't enjoy every part of a race (read "life"), but that I should be watchful of the things that might make me lose my pace. I should find a comfortable- even invigorating pace and defend it vigilantly.

Torin and Tula

My Daughter!

When Tula came home for the first time, Torin was taking a nap. When he woke up, we went to the crib to introduce her to him. Torin didn't want to acknowledge Tula at all--he turned his back immediately after he laid eyes on her. We tried to take a picture of them both on my lap, but when Tula was given to me, he pushed us away and climbed onto his Daddy right away. He's always grumpy after a nap, so I wasn't surprised... until he saw her getting a bottle!

He opened his mouth in a silent scream, with his hands as claws in front of him. He slowly melted to the floor, with tears sprinkling from his eyes- coming so fast they bounced from his eyes instead of rolling down his cheeks. He frunped to the ground and only then did he look at us with greater disappointment any adult would bother to feel about me. He felt betrayed.

But! After a meal he was a different boy. Suddenly, he couldn't stop touching her cheek with his index finger. He wanted to touch her all the time. Lucky for us all, he's gentle. He kept repeating "Baby girl! Baby girl!" "Baby Sister!" "Tula!"

Getting some lovin', whether she likes it or not!
True DiStéfano fashion!


He started daycare again on Monday, and the teachers told me that he kept on telling them all about Baby Girl. He felt proud of her, and proud of himself for being a big brother.

I'm proud of him too!

Pictures!

Two long blogs and no pictures! Has my sister taught me nothing?

This is Torin in Tehama helping Lola with her garden. We spent a while up there, as it provided peace, quiet and daycare so I could study for boards.

This is Cowboy Torin wearing his "Woo-ee" (Woody, ala Toy Story) hat after a hard day on the ranch. He was wearing it outside, mostly, and not inside, mostly, I swear.


And two more from Tehama. These pictures are making me want to go spend some time there! Torin absolutely loves being outside and walking around the fruit trees and helping with the garden. And I love the early mornings with the crisp air and huge birds (eagles!) flying overhead. The evenings are amazing too- with sunsets ablaze and from their house, the views go on and on.

One day, maybe one of my children with get married there. Right now, it's just weedy and the grass grows tall. We'll put grapes in terraces, and the trees will start to provide enough shade to grow more plants underneath. With the love and the care of my mother and father in law, it will turn into a lush garden with many places to sit and just be, or make art and write letters-even books. It will be like the family's own private Sundance resort, Buddhist retreat, and luxury spa, all at the same time. I'm glad my in-laws had the vision to make this investment when they did. I'm swelling with gratitude for them right now. The place is absolutely magical!

Next time I go, I'll have a daughter in tow. She'll meet a place that she can really connect to and that will be a constant for her whole life. I can only imagine that that would be important for her.

Waiting and waiting

I'm 41 weeks pregnant today. I have a scheduled induction tomorrow morning. When I made that appointment, I was pretty sure that I wouldn't go that late, as I wanted to start things naturally- just to know what it was like. (Torin was induced because I had gestational diabetes.) A week ago, I was really preparing for labor. I was resting a lot because I didn't want to go into labor tired. I was timing even the smallest contraction. Now, I've set the date out so far that I forget that I'm still pregnant- until I want to, say, get up or something.

I'm not the only one who feels that way either! Last week, Bubs was arranging elaborate schedules to ensure that I was never alone. Now I'm all alone (and enjoying it, actually- last time in a while, I suppose) while he's out at the park with Torin on his last day of being our only child.

Wishful thinking has pulled me into the ob triage room more than once. Both times, I called first and the nurses reluctantly but clearly told me that it was okay to come in.

The first time, I passed green mucus ball. My ob had stripped my membranes a couple of days earlier. I was shocked by how green it was. It was not greenish yellow, it was like avocado green--but toward the peel, not the seed. (That's pretty green!) Dr. Google said that it could be an infection, but uterine infections are very serious.

The nurse said it could be meconium, but I really doubted that because my water hadn't broken. Plus, it was rubbery, not dark and tarry. They looked at my amiotic fliud index- nope, not leaking at all.

They performed a speculum exam to look for anymore green rubbery mucus. The doc said "well this is sort of green" refering to something that was not green at all- beige with a little gray at best. The did a non stress test. She was perfectly healthy, not distressed at all. They took my urine- no infection. Despite this mystery, they callously sent me home. In truth, I just wanted to be in labor. Why couldn't they just help me along a little! I'm pretty sure they didn't believe me. (Medical school has not cured me of this sort of pouting.)

My sister found the best explanation for the color. One website suggested was that it was old blood- and it was like the color of a deep green bruise, so that's the story that I'm sticking to. However, if anyone else experiences this, take a picture!

The second time I went to ob triage hoping for labor, I was having contractions that were 4-5 minutes apart but not so strong that I had to vocalize- breathing through them was fine. It was this way for hours, so I called to come in, and after checking my cervix and doing a non stress test, they sent me home again. My reason for pouting this time was that my cervix didn't change until after I got the epidural last time (then it went from 2-10 in 15 miniutes). But really, those contractions, though regular, were not the gripping ones that take your smile away. They've continued but haven't gotten stronger since then.

Now I don't even mention my contractions unless I'm asked to get up in the middle of one. I'm resigned to this waiting, and resigned to not knowing what it feels like to go into labor naturally. I'm a bit sad about it, but after learning that my mom was 19, 3, 9, and 12 days late with her four children, I'll be glad to accept the induction and finally meet my little girl.

Some Purpose

Frankly, this blog is a little embarrassing. It's self-indulgent and pure stream-of-consciousness. When I was having a hard time as a mother, medical student, and being separated from my family, I looked for blogs that would provide insight. I didn't find anything. Other mother/medical students didn't have time to blog (maybe I should have learned from that!) and the few that did had completely different issues. I looked for mothers who were separated from their families, and I resonated emotionally with them, I didn't gain insight into my situation. I started this blog because I wanted to be there for myself- or, obviously, someone like myself--or maybe to keep looking for insight that would help me through the most challenging times.

The most challenging times were NOT the times that I was incredibly busy, like, right before a test. It was when I wasn't busy and Torin and Bubs were not here to enjoy. Finding circumstantial solutions to emotional problems took a long time. I did learn, but as I'm having another baby (tomorrow) I need to reinforce what I learned, so here I go.

Lesson Learned #1) The importance of routine.
School is fast-paced. Child-raising is slow-paced. The only way to do both is to be able to prepare for both. School (fast!) during the day and child (s l o w) in the evening. By limiting time at school, I set higher, faster expectations. I enjoy this time very much, and even more when I feel "on it" like I'm doing everything I can to set myself up for success. Then I can feel happy and proud and present for my child.

The other advantage of routine is that it sets up expectations that I'll see my child again, and he'll see me again. It builds trust/eliminates insecurity and expands horizons.

Lesson Learned #2) Good childcare is a Godsend.
I have a pretty traditional husband along these lines, and I myself was raised at home until kindergarten, so the thought of leaving my little baby with strangers, who might not even remember my precious package years down the road felt a lot like a double loss; it felt like paying to not keep those priceless memories!
Since we don't have a car, I needed a daycare that was close by and that Torin would love. Luckily, the closest one to us is also the best one I've found. The only downside is expense, but I am glad to pay so that Torin's teachers can have healthcare, etc. There are a lot of subsidized programs out there too, but they either don't take kids as young, they don't offer the schedule or flexibility, or they are far away.
I need to add here: As all things that are Godsends, don't try to get it for less than it's worth. It's a terrible thing when dogwalkers make more money than the people that love and nurture your children. Find a way for child care to really work for the people caring for your children!
Another day, I'll write about the invaluable things that good daycares are designed to provide.

Lesson Learned (but really already known) #3) Keep perspective
I love going to grab a beer with my friends. But even more that that, I love feeling that my life is going somewhere, that I'm in control, and that I'm excited and I know I'm prepared for the challenges that I signed up for. Feeling this way and having a routine makes me better at every part of my routine. When I know what I'm gaining it doens't seem like a sacrifice at all.

I'll stop there but add to it later, as I learn more. These are concrete things that I learned in the last two years. It's been a steep learning curve.

My Lovelies

I'll let the pic speak for itself...

Separation and family stress

Three more days until my boys leave and I weep while looking at this picture. My brother Steve just left his family for six months. This isn't him, though. I found it on line while searching for ways that families cope with separation.
I can't imagine what it would be like to be away for that long. I only leave my boys for a couple of weeks, at a time. There's no time to create a routine that I enjoy, which is actually both bad and good.
I become paranoid. I begin to think about all the what-ifs: "What if Torin becomes sick and I'm not there to take him to the hospital right away?" "What if there's an earthquake in California- how would I get a hold of them?" "What if something happens to them on the way to the airport? I'll never see them again." "What if there's a problem with the plane, would they notice in time?" What if I just don't hear from them- they are just missing. I couldn't go on with my life." "What if the last time I saw his will be the last time I ever see him?" Security issues become disproportionately important. Being safe is what I do to assure myself that I will see them again. So I can do anything at all. I don't feel like talking on the telephone much. I just want to be held in suspended animation until they return. I'm great about studying for the first week or ten days after they leave, but then I fall into a TV-watching depression.
I'd be drinking a lot if I weren't sharing blood with my next new best friend... who will also break my heart every time she leaves. Now's my time to take her everywhere I go. She's allowed to be with me during tests, in the lab, in meetings...
Torin holds me closer than ever these days. He sees my belly grow and he knows something is changing. Or, he knows that he's been in Chicago about the amount of time it takes for him to be taken back to SF. I have my final med school finals all next week and when Bubs takes him to the playground he cries and cries, wrapping his arm around my arm, and Bubs picks him up and takes him away. I don't cry until after they leave. Two year olds have a way of crying that makes it seem like their world is crumbling. He convinces me that he needs me more than ever. Really, I'm convinced that I need him more than anything.
Sacrificing the hugs and talks and book-readings now for... what? I do feel a sense of purpose about being a doctor, and not just for patients and community health, but for my family as well. I'll get to show my children that people can do something to help other people, to alleviate suffering. (Yes, I do still feel that way even considering the ugliness of the "Culture of Medicine." It can be done and a lot of people do it.)
That being said, next time we rearrange things for my family, we'll arrange them so that we can have a daily routine, that our lives are centralized around a common home. Being a doctor to avoid "Empty Nest"? I have an "Empty Nest" already.
When they go, I'll cry for an hour or so, I'll force myself to write a list of all the things I don't want to have to do while they're here. I'll get though most of the list in a few days and then start buying plane tickets, looking closely at my schedule, calling daycare centers to see if there's space for Torin, going to financial aide to see if there's any way we can afford it... I'll become depressed and less functional... getting by, but not doing much. I'll try to shake myself out of it, and before I slump over and give up- they're back. Then I want to spend all of my time with them, but I'll have energy to do all the things I should have been doing.
Is there any way to deal with this? How do other people deal with seraration from their families? Why was it so easy when I was the daughter? Is this just a result of residual guilt from being a bad daughter? Is it because I worry about being as absent as my mom was? How can I stop feeling this way!

My friend Andy and ZZ

Steve, you asked why I call her Z. Well, there's a story to that, and here it is:

As you know, I was desperately sick during the first trimester. I threw up eight times a day and that was the easy part. I felt absolutely miserable- like every cell was revolting against being pregnant. I normally feel split between school and family, but I became so sick that nothing else mattered. In and out of the hospital, on three different medications, nothing helped- except IV fluids that the nurses were so reluctant to give me.

One day I felt well enough to drag myself in to a path review. (I threw up three times between the train station and class.) There was no seat, so I sat on the stairs next to my friend Andy. He was excited to see me, because he hadn't in a while, and because he's just a nice person. He understood (as much as he could) that I was miserable, and despite having planned the pregnancy, I felt lost and like my life was completely out of control.

Here's a pic of Andy:


Oh wait, no, that's not him. Here's Andy's facebook profile picture. Here's Andy's facebook page, so you can befriend him.


So during this pathology review session, I had to run out of the room to puke and/or splash cold water on my face. I returned to the session only to grab my things and to say goodbye to Andy. I noticed that the zipper on one of the pockets of the back pack was open, and I reached in to find the most amazing, perfectly timed homemade cards ever.

On the front there was a drawing of a sperm with arm buds and a bow in its hair and a caption that said:

Thank You for letting me...

Then you flipped it over and on the back it had a picture of my uterus with a little sperm bouncing from one side to the other, doing spins and flips and having a great time. It just said, in big letters:

ZIG ZAG!

I felt warmed! For a good two minutes, I forgot about my misery and felt happy! Around that same time, Andy said "She doesn't know how sick she's making you! She can't know, because she only has two neurons! One is for cutie and the other for fun!" I told Quelly about it, and she loved it too. Since then we've been calling her ZeeZee!

Andy's a great friend. He's the class punster. He is willing to laugh and very light-hearted. He has a unique perspective at all times. I'm sure I'll write more about him. And did you know that he was the valedictorian of his high school?!

Balance, and other fairy tales

Balance? What? A couple of months before boards? HA!

This, right now, is what I signed up to sacrifice. I have to learn everything all over again, in even more detail, and all I want to do it play with TORIN!

I have to sleep to grow a human. She needs me to be healthy. How on EARTH am I going to review everything I have to review, keep going to lab a few times a week, work in the clinic every Tuesday morning, play with my son, wink at my husband, and get a healthy 8 hours of sleep every night. Prenatal yoga? HA!

It kills me that he's only here for less than another couple of weeks, and I have to study the whole time, and then I won't see him for another three weeks after that. I would cry, but after I'm done complaining (here) I have to study another lecture and then sleep, so there's no time for crying.


There's Mr. T. in his suit that he wore to the Free Clinic fundraiser.

Maybe I should think of balance as a lifetime thing, not as a lifestyle thing.

I swear, it will be easier as a grad student, right? Hosanna, I hope so!

Okay, I guess there is time to cry.

Keeping in Touch

On video skype with my brother Steve, g-chatting with my sister Raquel, texting my dear Chris and my other brother Marcos, while Steve has Mom on speaker phone as we try to convince her that I'm really there with Steve in Hawaii. This is how we bid our Major Brother farewell the night before he goes to Afghanistan, leaving his wife and two children at home in Hawaii for six months. We'll be able to do the Skype when he is in Afghanistan, and in this sense, it will be comforting to feel that the world is small.

Times, they are changing. Nations trying to fight wars with terrorists, like a fist trying to punch an idea. I don't understand our strategy in Afghanistan, mostly because I don't see the benefit of an endless occupation. Afghanistan is a gorgeous country, and is undoubtedly worth saving, but is that what we're doing there? In the 90's, I received letters from Amnesty International asking me to urge our politicians to take a stand on the treatment of women, saying that Afghani women used to be professors and lawyers, but they were being brutalized by the fundamentalist Taliban. This was ongoing for 20 years before 9-11, well before we were sold the war in Iraq partially because of their treatment of women. Skepticism of war policy is my nature and remains so even my with my big brother headed over there.

This is me trying to make sense of a new foreign policy. Struggling.

I know that the US has real and powerful enemies, and I understand that it is the job of the military to stay vigilant. I've learned about the Clash of Civilizations, and that our civilization, despite what our voting demographics or protest placards tell you, stands in favor of free speech, free press, civil liberties, freedom of and from (!) religion, free enterprise, equal rights, etc. ( I feel silly writing this, because as I do, I can think of a million ways in which our freedoms have been violated.) I'm not addressing individual motions or events. I mean, in general, these things are valued in our civilization, so much that for some people, they are deemed self-evident truths. But it's a mistake and simply incorrect to think that they are basic principles for all of humanity. Some civilizations do not value these things, and this is where the CLASH part comes in.

Our world is getting smaller, and the notion of "live and let live" seems to be unrealistic and maybe as immoral as cultural relativism.

One more plea: Maybe we need to slow down. Maybe we need to allow civilizations to merge, to educate each other, to show each other the benefits of different ways of doing things. Maybe, just maybe, we can slow this clash down, and as confusing as life can be, we can always invest in what we know is good, what's important to us- family, community, environment, good will, charitable acts, education, health, personal peace, expression of ideas... Is there any chance that our very real, very powerful, imperfect enemies would do the same? While I'm here, my brother is at war, and all I can do is live a life rooted in these principles.

DISCLAIMER: This is what I'm thinking now. I reserve the right to change my mind at any time, I just know it's not as simple as I thought things were when I was 19. I'll freely challenge all of these thoughts, until I feel as though I've grasped some larger truth. I only have very small truths right now, one of which is that I love my brother with all my heart, that I support him in every breath that he takes, where ever he takes it, that I have deeply mixed feelings about where he's going, I feel one way only about him.

19 weeks down, 21 to go, Boards, Torin

I'm past the brutal parts of the pregnancy. It was so awful I can't do it again, which saddens me greatly, but I just need to focus on the two children that I do have. Today I felt her kicks on the outside for the first time!

Looking at pictures of my first child makes me long for an infinite number of children. The last day of my trip to SF, we went for a forty-five minute walk... around the block. For Torin, a walk isn't about getting your heart rate up. It's about being in a new place, that just so happens to be right next to the place where he just was. The sun was blindingly bright. We had to choose what we looked at carefully. My eyes were glued on him. He focused on new beautiful things. We both saw the world as though it was the first time. We sat on the sidewalk and counted blooms on flower bushes. He ran his little finger over the stucco siding on the corner house.

It's all a practice of being "present". In violation of that:


This is Torin playing outside Nona's yard last summer. We found five or six of those rocks a few days later in his diaper. He slept well after that!

I miss him terribly. On the other front, I have been able to get a lot of school work done. It's nice to study early and take my time with the material. I think that missing Torin keeps me on track now, whereas before it made it impossible to focus. I'm not sure what's changed. He's a little older and so am I. Last year I decided to accept the sadness, and by doing so, I decided to not let it interfere with the rest of my life. Of course I'm sad. I'd be inhuman if I weren't. But I'm also grateful that I can study and enhance my life in other ways.

I take boards in just fourteen weeks! The countdown has begun.