the last 9 yards... I mean, 9 weeks...

Everyone told us this would be the hardest year.

Well, that's not exactly true. Everyone said that the last year of residency would be the hardest. Apparently we made it through that year fine though. Well... that was actually a very trying year that I have mostly tried to forget... but somehow we dug deep enough to invite another year of training. Maybe we wanted to prolong that last year of training? - or double it? Revel in it? Whatever our reasons - or lack of reasoning - we added another year. and my husband is doing a fellowship. And right now, only nine weeks until he is completely finished, things are getting interesting.

We had no idea it could be this challenging.

Mentally. Financially. Emotionally. Physically. Intellectually.

Ok, let's start with the financial aspect of it, (because we all know that financial stress messes with and exacerbates all of the other things listed above).

This is an expensive year. Extremely expensive. We, (well, I - my husband does not agree) should have applied to at least two credit cards last year, when our credit scores were awesome.

We should have sat down and looked at all of the projected expenses for the year. The interview costs (ohmygoodness!), the expenses of the Boards (books, travel, $2,000 exam fee, etc.), moving costs, attorneys fees, licensing fees (how many of these are there??), etc. etc. etc.

Somehow we should have foreseen that our van would need over $5,000 in repairs this year. We also should have predicted that our family would require over $2,500 in dental treatments - (what??? - I know!) We should not have put our two older kids in ski school.

It feels like we are on a roller coaster, but not a very fun one. This roller coaster just continues going down a steep drop. And while we know there is a bottom to our reckless and exhilarating drop, it is not an enjoyable feeling as we now keep waiting and anticipating to hit a curve or a bend... or something - just so that we can take a breath and recoup.

But it doesn't come.

Nine weeks.

So that is my advice. Get an extra line of credit before the last year of training. One with no fees for a year. Or something. Just in case. Maybe you won't have to use it. It'll just be there for you - in case.

The other night my husband said, What are we going to do? I said, Let's just try to be nice to each other.

So we are being nice. And that is good advice too for the last year of training. I think. There is so much going on inside, so many worries, thoughts, expectations, etc. Yes... just be nice to each other.

switching perspectives with a jolt

It started raining recently.  It had been dry for so long, I had forgotten completely how the rain makes me feel, that I live in the Northwest.  As I watched the heavy rain fall, the reverberations of the fellowship results, the extended year of training, suddenly came creeping inside me again.  I felt trapped inside... and just a little bit sad.  I quickly reminded myself that wallowing in those feelings would not get me anywhere.  I pushed them aside and pulled out my raincoat.  But since that moment, those feelings have crept back twice more.  I started to wonder if I will ever fully embrace and be happy for another year of training, or if I will continually struggle emotionally until my husband is actually done. 

Then, on Monday, I read the novel, Sarah's Key.  The tragic life - particularly the childhood - of the main character is unimaginable.  As I kneeled to pray after finishing the book, I cried and cried as I thanked Heavenly Father for all of the blessings my children and our family receive each day.  I thought about all of the people preparing for Hurricane Sandy, and then about all of the people living in countries where there is violence and fear.  I felt so, so grateful that we are not constantly surrounded by dangers and stricken with fear.  That we are together, laughing, eating, learning, and enjoying life.  The experience aroused deep feelings of gratitude and peace.

Hopefully this brief yet powerful experience of switching perspectives will allow me to more acutely enjoy this time of my life - especially the extra year of training - while living in the Northwest's endless rain.

and the results are in...

My husband received the results, the ones that we had been anxiously waiting for... he was offered a fellowship spot in the only program he applied to... which means... he will train for an additional year.

Another year.

I wept silently for two days, and a few times found myself sobbing while driving in my minivan, sunglasses covering my eyes.

But, I had planned for this!  I had hoped for this!  An additional year of specialization?  A huge addition to his resume?  A more attractive candidate for openings in his field?  Yes, of course!  We had both thought this would be wise, reasonable, and just a tiny bit easy... I mean, what is one more year after we have dedicated the last twelve years (including this year, which just began in July) to my husband's career...?  Really.  I was even praying that he would be offered the fellowship - if it was the best thing for our family, that is.

Unfortunately, during the past several weeks I began to realize often that without the fellowship my husband would be finished... and I allowed myself to daydream possible, brief, lovely glimpses into what (I thought) life might be like if my husband actually completed his training and began practicing medicine in nine months.

Was this a mistake?

Oh yes.

My advice?

Don't do that.

And just be happy in the moment, and don't live (spend money) like you think you will be living (or can spend money) beyond the moment that you are in.

And don't use a credit card.  Just don't.

(Oh yes, I began to think - quite regularly - "Nine months?  I can pay all this off in nine months!")

Yes, don't do that.

I guess, it's all a process.  And hopefully we learn from our mistakes.  And I am happy about the fellowship now.  I have wrapped my head around it, I guess.

anticipation is... not one of my strengths

A normal day.  But full of anxiety.  Waiting.  Wondering.  Anticipating a change.  But not sure if one will come.  Will these moments always be present?  I recall feeling like we had "made it" once my husband was accepted into medical school.  I didn't know the following eight years would be full of additional applications, matches, ranking, decisions... yes, it's the decisions that weigh on and gnaw at our peace and happiness.  Sometimes I feel it would be nice if someone would just tell us what to do... which specialty, which fellowship, which job, which city, which neighborhood... which path will be the best for our family, for our growth, for our happiness.  But... then I am so grateful for the opportunity to choose for ourselves.  My husband's decision to apply for a fellowship was a difficult one, up until the last moment that he could withdraw his name from the system.  He felt good inside about leaving his name on the rank list... though his head tells him it is time to get a job and start paying back on loans.

I read in a National Geographic Travel magazine the other day the following statement: "Worrying is praying for something that you don't want." I like that idea, but it is difficult to incorporate into my genetically programmed being that is 98% of the time completely indecisive and while making decisions worries endlessly - even about decisions already made (some, even years ago).

Sometimes I wish I could climb a tree like my kids do, to momentarily avoid making "big" decisions, to be forced to make small but important decisions as I climb, to feel the challenge, the rush, the calmness, the reward as I reach the top and settle down on the perfect branch, to be renewed by the feeling of having escaped from the world below.  (My older brother and I grew up mostly high up in trees.)  But, I'm a little old for that now, and the neighbors might worry about me (that is, if they aren't already quite worried).

My husband will find out the results of the match in a couple of weeks, but the anticipation is thick already.  It feels like our lives are on hold.  Neither my husband nor I handle anticipation well.  But... we are being nice to each other and this is normally when we fight - which we rarely do because this level of anticipation is rare - but because we are both awful at waiting patiently - and calmly - for life-changing information.