It’s coming up on two years since my father died. There’s about a month to go. February (the anniversary of when he got sick) seems like a long time ago. I guess he was sick for a short time, but it was a long time, if that makes any sense. Meaning, February to September is a long time to deal with what we dealt with.
Some days I don’t think about it all. I’ve accepted life without my father. It’s hard that I’ve accepted that.
My husband is applying for fellowships. It wasn’t that long ago he applied for residency. It is a tiring, grueling process. He had five straight months of difficult rotations, because my son was born last July and we arranged his year so all the light rotations were early. When my husband is on duty, I’m on duty because I am doing solo childcare. I hear people talk about going back home when their spouses are done training to live near family. I wish I had more family to live near.
I kind of feel like I’ve been struggling my whole life. Every day is very hard. I go to sleep tired and seem to wake up more tired, because my son still wakes up now and then at night.
I don’t know if it’s better or worse for my husband. He has a rough job and a bad commute on top of it. If I had to trade, though, I’d probably rather be in his position…I’d rather have a long commute and a tough job but the feeling that I was making progress in my life, and a spouse who was reliably home.
Some days I just want to quit working and stay home with the kids. Ten years ago, I never thought I’d say that.