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Dr. Dad
A Time for Family
By Edward R. Rosick
"I told them about a month," I said. She countered with eight weeks. I offered six. We ended up agreeing on seven. Seven weeks of staying at home, doing laundry, cooking dinner and changing diapers. Seven weeks of being away from my work and routine, away from my patients and my co-workers.
The huge change that it would be really didn't sink in until the second week at home. It was then that I began to realize just how much time and energy I put into work, and, conversely, just how much time and energy my wife put into raising our daughter and keeping our house running smoothly.
By the third week I was starting to really get into the swing of things, or as much as I could with three or four hours sleep a night. Being two weeks premature, Edward's digestive system really wasn't ready for any type of food, be it breastmilk or formula. He cried to eat and then cried after he ate. He was adamant about not burping for at least 20 minutes after he ate, but we learned that we would all pay the price if we didn't put in those 20 minutes to burp him.
Trying to get by on that little sleep and remain at least semi-lucid brought back memories of my medical internship, when 36-hour shifts were the norm and black coffee was my food of choice. Then and now, I believe it's a stupid, if not dangerous, way to train young physicians. Having trouble putting on a diaper or remembering where a formula bottle was last placed is annoying, but it certainly didn't put anyone's life at risk.
On the Friday of the fourth week I decided to go into work. I wasn't going to see any patients of course, but I did want to show off the first set of baby pictures and get caught up with my mail. I still had some lingering feelings of guilt about taking time off, especially since I had heard that it had been extremely hectic since I left. Those feelings of guilt were quickly replaced with feelings of anxiety when I got to my office and saw another doctor's name taped over mine.
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