A New Chapter: The Conclusion of Residency & Heading West

Many, many suns ago I started dating a freakishly tall man named Brad… summer of 2008, to be exact. He began med school a few months later. That was 8.5 years and a full head of non-grey hairs ago. Also the days of wearing a push up bra and stilettos on a Tuesday.


While he was in medical school I remember months where I didn’t see him at all. There were also months he spent sleeping in my parents basement. There were also months where I simply saw him for dinner once a week to make sure he didn’t forget what I looked like.

1912230_10101657126806560_537600563_nAnd then 3.5 years ago we got married and started a new chapter in our lives. We packed up our entire life to head to Illinois for residency. I drove myself and I remember crying like a baby for the first 2 hours. I didn’t want to move away. I didn’t want to leave my life. I liked my life. I had friends… and family… and adorable little nieces I got to see almost every day.

The day I left my two favorite blondes.

But as a good woman would, I followed my man. I’m kinda joking here but mostly not… sometimes being married to a resident has been similar to what I imagine being married in the 1950’s was like. Due to his ungodly schedule I am forced to be the cook, cleaner, shopper (and not the fun kind)… all while not having a domestic bone in my body. Poor Brad stuck eating frozen dinners like there’s no tomorrow.

Our first place in Illinois

Bless that man though, he’s never complained. Never about my cooking. Never about the way I always am wearing sweatpants and over sized sweatshirts when he gets home. Never about the fact that he has just finished working a 90 hour week and hasn’t seen the baby in 4 days… never complains, ever.

And you won’t hear anymore complaining from me (no promises for the next 8 days though) because we only have 8 days left of residency left! 8 days. 8 DAYS. 


This is the time we’ve both been dreaming about for years! So why am I kind of… sad?

I’m reflecting on this chapter of our lives that is coming to a close. The chapter that talks about the sacrifice, the getting creative to pay our bills, the o on each other, the infertility, the birth of our son, and the raising our first baby until he was 7 months old… all of this is over. You could even throw in that I learned to cook a meal or two #LikeAGoodWomanWould #AndItWasntFrozen

When I look back all I can think of is that I am so proud of him. Of us. I am proud to tell Kent one day how the first few years of his parents marriage started with not a dollar to our name, a plea to my parents to help with rent until I found a job, and eventually a stranger in our guest room to pay for my fertility drugs. I can’t wait to tell Kent how him and I celebrated Thanksgiving by going to Old Navy for the 50% off sale because we had nothing else to do while his dad was at work. I can’t wait to tell Kent how his dad sacrificed vacations, weddings, holidays, weekends and oh, so many hours of sleep, to be a good role model and provider for him. And most of all I can’t wait to tell Kent how his parents spent the first few years learning how to rely on each other (and my mom #PersonalThearpist) for comfort and support.

I am really proud to tell him these things. We have worked really hard (and I say we because although I wasn’t putting in the 80 hour work weeks on the regular it was really hard complaining about it all the time…) and now, with 8 days to go, we are stronger than ever, poorer than ever, happier than ever, and with our entire lives ahead.


Congratulations, Brad. You have a few early grey hairs. A couple years off your life. And a family that is so proud. Now let’s get the F outta here!


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