Peacemaking

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God."

~Matthew 5:9

When I was in college, I wanted to help save the world.  Scenes from foreign wars, homeland strife, global human suffering made my heart pound with frustration.  These days, I still shake my head in disbelief and frustration when I hear or read about the calamitous things people bring on one another.  But I am now the mother of three young children.  Helping to save the world would be nice, I sigh.  But there just doesn't seem to be enough time to fit that in between diaper changes and story time.  *Double sigh.*  After all, what do the day-in-and-day-out duties of mothering young children have in common with bring about world peace?  Precious little, I disparagingly critique.  

On the other hand, as I read the Beatitudes I wonder, how hard can peacemaking be, really?  Peace seems to be everyone's bumper sticker. It is certainly in vogue to proclaim it, so much so that the word sounds almost cliche at times.  I'm certainly not waging any wars, am I?  That makes me a peacemaker, right?  This peace thing sounds simple enough to me.

~~~

Today was a tremendously difficult day of parenting for me.  There has been a string of whining, talking back and pouting running its course through our house.  I have yet to figure out how to deal with this behavior effectively.   As a result, the poor behavior seems to be building on itself rather than receding.  Fellow parents likely know the feeling, as well as where this is going.  

This afternoon I boldly took all three children out for an errand.  G-Bear and E-Bear need new sock-less summer shoes, as they have outgrown last year's pairs.  Because of our small budget for new material goods, or any non-consumable good for that matter, this shopping trip was a special treat in my mind.  T and I had picked out a particularly cute and practical style to get for them. I was excited to bless my kids with new shoes as we arrived at the shoe store.  E-Bear and I quickly found a pair we both loved.

I was quite put off when instead of sharing in my excitement, my eldest responded with a string of whining and pouting.  I had one type of shoes in mind and she, another.  To my dismay, there was no end to her objections to my shoe suggestions.  There were refusals to try on pairs I presented and even dramatic tripping and falling acts when I asked her how the shoes fit on her feet.   

The armies were facing off on opposing hills.  An epic battle was building.

I took a deep breath.  

"G-Bear, it sounds like these shoes don't fit your feet.  I don't want to get you shoes you don't like, and I won't get you shoes that hurt your feet.  Maybe we will find you a pair another time."  

Arrrrhhhh, I wanted to scream!  You have no summer shoes!  These are adorable, functional, sturdy and reasonably priced!  We are sooooo fortunate to get to be buying new shoes!  It has taken so much energy, planning and perfect timing for me to get everyone out of the house by myself!  There are millions of children in this world who don't get new shoes when they need them! 

Another deep breath.

We stopped at one more store.  The scene was similar.  But then G-Bear saw the style of shoes she had in mind.  They were available in her size and very inexpensive.  Naturally, when she tried them on, she could walk perfectly.

ARRRRRRHHHHH, I wanted to scream!  You don't need shoes like these!  These are not the kind we should be getting for you!  You have not cooperated!  You do not deserve to get these shoes!

My army's arsenal was poised, ready to strike and crush the resistance.

I took a deep breath.

I lowered my arsenal and spoke gently to my daughter.

"G-Bear, I am glad we have found a pair of shoes that fit and you like so well.  Unfortunately, these are not they everyday summer shoes that we need to get you.  You can use these shoes to play at school in the sandbox tomorrow.  I hope you can cooperate another day to find everyday summer shoes to wear."

~~~

On our way to the car, I suddenly realized why peacemakers are blessed and called children of God.  Peacemaking is not easy work, it is no cliche, no bumper sticker does it justice.  Totalitarians and toddlers are both masters of crossing boundaries and testing limits; justice and formation cannot simply be cast aside.  I realized that the peacemaking of the Beatitudes, and the blessing of pursuing it, applies just as much to parenting toddlers as it does to nation building.  And somedays, whether parent or president, it feels easier to wage war than peace.  Peacemaking takes patience, selflessness, humility, mercy, forgiveness, and wisdom.  I have a lot of of growing to do in those areas.  Heaven help me.  

Motherhood has more to do with saving the world than I thought.  

May Flowers

Spring is here, there is much to do.

Papa wants plants and pretty flowers too!

G-Bear and E-Bear think planting is fun.

Little hands help Papa's job get done!

Thanks for letting us help you, Papa.  Your garden is looking great!

Grocery Bag, Postpartum Edition

There has been a conspicuous absence of Grocery Bag posts for the past 3 weeks since Baby Bear's arrival.  This week will be no exception -- no Grocery Bag meal planning again for me.  But, that is not to say that we are starving or that we have no dinner plan for the week!

I have to dedicate this Monday's Grocery Bag to all of our family and friends who have blessed us with meals since we came home with Baby Bear.  I have no Grocery Bag posts because I have prepared so few meals myself!  We have received beautiful homemade dishes, restaurant take-out, meal gift certificates, grocery store deliveries, my favorite chocolate hazelnut torte dessert, and even a cooler of Dean & Deluca frozen food via express mail from friends in Seattle.   And let me tell you, the next day leftovers have been delicious!

Before I had G-Bear, I would have never thought to bring a meal to new parents.  Thank goodness that others knew what an amazing blessing it would be to us!  Now a more experienced momma, I think there may be no better gift for new parents (especially a new mom with other kids at home!) than a meal delivered.  We are especially grateful for the people who have organized multiple meal deliveries with several friends, keeping our tummies full for weeks on end.  What a gift!

From all of us in Happily Ever Johnson Land, thank you for our happy tummies!

Happy Five Year Anniversary, My Love

My dear Prince T,

Five years ago,

I promised to be true to you.

May 13th, 2006

In good times and in bad,

in sickness and in health,

I will love and honor you,

all the days of my life.

Reading Colossians 3, one of our favorites.

 "In Him, for her,"

you love me as you promised.

You love me as you love yourself.

With you I find myself closer to the Lord,

because holiness, not just happiness, is our calling together.

When others look at our life together,

may they see the Lord at the center,

may they see our love for each other and know Him,

for He is the lamp that guides our feet.

 Happy fifth anniversary, T.

I love you.

Countdown to Graduation, The Finale

Continued from Countdown to Graduation, Parts One, Two, Three, and Four.

Last Friday, I graduated from medical school.  I spent most of last week reflecting on the past four and a half years and the memories I hope to someday share with G-Bear, E-Bear and Baby Bear.  Here is the Finale.

The Finale

As my friends blazed through their final 10 month of rotations, residency applications, interviews, the Match, and graduation, I plodded along taking 4 weeks off in between 6 week rotation blocks.  As a result, I would graduate a year later than my class, but I would be able to be home for substantial periods with G-Bear and E-Bear.  This certainly presented challenges, as I have often felt like I have a foot in one of two worlds without belonging fully to either one.  The benefits that I received have been undoubtedly family-related:  my routine and relationship with the G-Bear and E-Bear continued to flourish, I was able to accomplish potty training with G-Bear over a winter break from work, not to mention all the little moments during nap time, playtime, wake up and bed time that I was able to share with them.  Despite my periodic steps away from medicine, God continued to bless my efforts and learning at work, above what I thought was possible and certainly beyond what I deserved.  At times His blessings at home and at work seemed to be accomplished in spite of my efforts, and for that I remain humbled and eternally grateful.  

Family medicine, OB/Gyn electives, pathology, ICU and cardiology, pediatrics, gyn oncology, and a summer of maternal fetal medicine research all passed by quickly.  Before I knew it, T had matched to a post-residency fellowship program across the country and it was once again time for me to prepare for the Match.  I visited the city where we would be moving after graduation and even met with the OB/Gyn program to introduce myself and our situation.  It was a great visit and I received a welcoming response.  But something didn't feel quite right.  Perhaps I know too much about how hard residency can be; perhaps I didn't want to keep us in a city without family for 4 more years; perhaps I wasn't ready to commit to a program before T had job offers;  perhaps I wasn't ready to give up the daily moments with G-Bear and E-Bear; perhaps, for some unexplainable reason, it wasn't the right time.  

After weeks of sleepless nights and agonizing in prayer, I withdrew from the Match in August of my final year.  A week later, I found out that I was pregnant with Baby Bear.  I will always consider this God's way of blessing me with the confirmation that I had made the right decision to defer the Match for yet another year.  I needed that confirmation, because I received mixed responses from others, and that often shook my confidence.  I didn't want to let down my parents, my mentors, or my advisors, even as I made a choice that I felt was better for our family.  As I wrote to one of my advisors:

"I realize that each time I decelerate from the process of traditional medical education I give myself hurdles of knowledge retention and loose part of my competitive edge as a residency candidate, both of which I worked very hard in medical school to accomplish.  These were difficult realities for me to accept as I made my decision to withdraw from the Match.  Ultimately, however, I have had to weigh advice like yours against the personal cost of starting residency next year.  That cost was too great for me to accept.  Perhaps I have reached the limits of my ability to push the envelope when it comes to medical training and personal life balance.  Then again, perhaps my medical path isn't finished and this is the next step toward my ultimate success in serving others as a wife, mother and doctor."

My final 9 months of medical school have been full of growth.  I have grown in my love for patient care.  I have felt myself grow uncomfortable in the role of the medical student, feeling ready for the new challenges and responsibilities that come with graduation and residency.  I have watched T grow out of his junior resident roles and assume the role of the senior chief.  I felt and watched as Baby Bear grew inside me, and now our love for him grows daily.  I have grown in my appreciation of how wonderful and challenging it can be to be a wife, mother and working woman.  I have grown in my opinion that doing it all is an illusion and hard choices have to be made.

As graduation arrives, I realize that this both an end and a beginning.  I have come a long way (a veeeeery long way, as I look at my bookshelf of medical school books), but we have many more adventures ahead.  When people ask me what I plan to do next, the simplest answer is the honest but unconventional one: I don't know!  Unlike most graduates, my decisions about residency, specialty, location and the Match are still ahead, not behind me.  Yet, I know that the Lord is the one who has brought me this far, and I am ready to trust His plan for our future.  

Countdown to Graduation, Part Four

Continued from Countdown to Graduation, Parts One, Two and Three.

Last Friday, I graduated from medical school.  I spent most of last week reflecting on the past four and a half years and the memories I hope to someday share with G-Bear, E-Bear and Baby Bear.  Here is Part Four, to be followed tomorrow by The Finale.

Year Four

I had three weeks of vacation between my my third and fourth year of medical school.  T and I used the first week to vacation back to Alabama for T's younger sister's wedding.  We returned home after an incredible weekend of family fun to resume our routine, as the promised land of fourth year was in our sights.  

A few days before I was to return to rotations, I missed a call from Nana as I was getting the kids up from their naps.  She was trying to get in touch with T.  T's dad had been brought to an emergency room by ambulance.  Everything was sudden and unexpected.  His condition was critical, they were trying to save his life.  I frantically paged T and called him.  When he answered, I had to tell him that his dad was in the ER, they were trying to save his life.  T came home almost immediately.  We were both speechless when he walked in our door.  His dad had just passed away.  We were on a plane back to Alabama the next day.

Nothing that I learned in medical school prepared me for what it would be like to loose T's dad or for what it would be like to support my husband and his family through that loss.  As a medical student, I had learned how good it feels to triumph over death and disease.  I could understand medical minutia about what had happened, yet in spite of all that knowledge, medicine had lost the battle against death for T's father's life.  But, as T reminded the crowd at his father's funeral later that week, what really mattered was that Jesus has won the battle for our souls against death, and his father trusted God for that.  

The day after we returned home from the funeral, I started my ER rotation.  It was rather haunting at times, being in the same environment where my father-in-law had died just days before.  I worked tremendously hard on the rotation, and even toyed with the idea of emergency medicine as a career.  I wanted to become so good at beating death that I could protect myself and my loved ones from being overcome by it and taken from me again.  I was weeks into my rotation before I realized, in great emotional panic at the time, that no amount of training would give me the ability to beat death every time I encountered it.  At some point, death will overcome each of us.  I thank God that, in that moment, I did not remain in the despair and sadness that I had been feeling for several weeks.  I was reminded of what I knew but had lost sight of in sadness: that Jesus is the Lord of both life and death.

"If we live we live to the Lord, and if we die we die to the Lord.

So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.

For this very reason Christ died and returned to life 

so that he might be the Lord of both the dead and the living."

~Romans 14:7-12

I finished my ER rotation having relearned a very important lesson from my father-in-law the physician: death has no sting for us not because of modern medicine, but because of our trust in Christ's death and resurrection.

The summer of hurdles and contemplation wasn't over yet, as there was more reflecting to be done.   As my ER rotation ended, I had to face the fact that, quite intentionally, I had used nearly all of my allowable third and fourth year vacation during the previous winter around the time of E-Bear's birth.  It was coming time to pay the piper.  As I stared into the meat of fourth year, I realized that I would have to work straight through the next 52 weeks without any breaks if I wanted to graduate on time.  What was more, T had two years of residency left, compared to my one year of medical school.  Our schedules were out of sync.  I needed to decide if I would graduate before him, and if I did, what I would do afterwards with him committed to his program for an additional year.  

Once again, I headed to the administration floor of the medical school to speak with a dean.  I explained my situation, and they offered me a solution:  decelerate out of my class and complete my remaining rotations in a more spaced out schedule, allowing me to be home periodically with our young family as well as graduate at the same time as T.  This accommodating plan was phenomenal, and I am certainly not the first or the last medical student to be offered such a fabulous schedule by my medical school.  It seemed to solve many of my misgivings and dilemmas.  

Even so, I struggled with my decision to decelerate, and it took me most of the summer to finally apply for approval.  In all honesty, I was held back by a fear of losing professional esteem, disappointment at the thought of falling behind my friends, and perhaps even a bit of professional pride.  In the end, these doubts gave way to trust that the Lord's plan for me would overcome any setbacks I faced if I decelerated.  What I would gain by decelerating was just too valuable to pass up.  I have never regretted the decision.


Next, Countdown to Graduation, The Finale.

Medical School Graduation

The Countdown to Graduation Finale is in the works, but right now it is time to reminisce about the amazing graduation weekend.

Friday May 7th was a fabulous day.  

It was the day that I graduated from medical school!

The crew in attendance, including Nana who took the picture.

I expected the day to be special, but I had no idea how wonderful it would feel to walk in the graduation procession and look up to see my loved ones waving and cheering.

Can you spot the happy momma?

I also had someone to keep me company during the 2 hour ceremony.  Can you spot the little blue bundle in my lap?  That's right, it's Baby Bear!  MoMo brought him down to the aisle for me once I had processed.  Thankfully, he slept through  the whole thing until the end.

Can you spot the stowaway? 

I couldn't resist carrying Baby Bear with me as I went up the stage to be hooded.  He was there to represent T, G-Bear and E-Bear, because all four have shared in so much of my medical school experience.

Getting my hood, Baby Bear in tow.

Meanwhile, the Bears were behaving beautifully in the audience for the extended program, aided only slightly by rare juice box and animal cracker treats.

A few celebrities even gave me high fives as I processed out!

Afterwards, we enjoyed reception treats in the seats so that Baby Bear could get a snack.  After all, he had been so patient.

G-Bear and I share a moment after the ceremony.

Multitasking...

Pretty easy going kid, that Baby Bear.

Then the kids and I practiced our heart sounds with the new stethoscope that MoMo had given them as a present:

We got to see the Amazing Miss R and thank her for all her help in getting me through medical school:

Miss R holding Baby Bear for the first time.

And then there were the two people whose hard work over the years has made so much of my life and work possible:

How does one express inexpressible thanks to the amazing parents who have given so much?

And then, there was the moment that I took this picture with G-Bear, knowing that she has been with me every single day of medical school, even though she will never remember most of it.  What a special day for both of us.

We relaxed at home for a bit after the ceremony.  Then the adults (and one Baby Bear) headed out to celebrate with a fabulous dinner at Forepaugh's.

When the waitstaff heard about the special occasion we were celebrating, they generously seated us in the spectacular wine cellar.

We laughed, reminisced, reveled, enjoyed.  The food was amazing.  The company was priceless.  We couldn't have asked for a more special evening.

Seven years ago, I sat with my parents over dinner and shared with them the crazy idea that I wanted to quit my law school track and try to go to medical school.  When I told them all the reasons why it was an impossible fantasy, they refused to let me believe my doubts rather than my dreams.  My mom even said, "Queen B, you are going to be 30 someday anyway.  You might as well be 30 having pursued your dream than look back and only wish you had tried."   From that very first moment, my parents encouraged my aspirations, led by example, and sacrificed their time, treasure and energy to help me achieve my goal.  It was so fitting that my medical school career would end with us all sitting together over dinner once again.

 Thanks to all our family and friends, who helped make this big day possible!  Thank you, Lord!

From a Mom to a Daughter

Happy Mother's Day!

Today, I couldn't be more thankful for my mother, my mother-in-law, and the chance to be a mother myself.  The poem below is a recent favorite of ours, and a great interpretation of the power of motherly love.  Thanks to GrandMo and Nana for always being Point B for T and me, to whom we can go no matter what Point A we find ourselves.  And Lord, help me be the woman about whom my daughter says to the harshness of the world, "you really ought to meet my mother," if only because I am one who taught her to trust in You.

"If I Should Have a Daughter"

by Sarah Kay

If I should have a daughter, instead of Mom, she's gonna call me Point B, because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. And I'm going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands, so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, "Oh, I know that like the back of my hand." And she's going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you is the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air. There is hurt here that cannot be fixed by Band-Aids or poetry. So the first time she realizes that Wonder Woman isn't coming, I'll make sure she knows she doesn't have to wear the cape all by herself. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. Believe me, I've tried. "And, baby," I'll tell her, don't keep your nose up in the air like that. I know that trick; I've done it a million times. You're just smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house, so you can find the boy who lost everything in the fire to see if you can save him. Or else find the boy who lit the fire in the first place, to see if you can change him." But I know she will anyway, so instead I'll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can't fix. Okay, there's a few heartbreaks that chocolate can't fix. But that's what the rain boots are for. Because rain will wash away everything, if you let it. I want her to look at the world through the underside of a glass-bottom boat, to look through a microscope at the galaxies that exist on the pinpoint of a human mind, because that's the way my mom taught me. That there'll be days like this. ♫ There'll be days like this, my momma said. ♫ When you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when your boots will fill with rain, and you'll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's swept away. You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life. And yes, on a scale from one to over-trusting, I am pretty damn naive. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don't be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it. "Baby," I'll tell her, "remember, your momma is a worrier, and your poppa is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more." Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you've done something wrong. But don't you ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don't ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.

T recently found this piece for me as featured at the 2011 TED Conference.  It is intended as a spoken poetry piece, and you can watch the 23 author perform it here.  

Countdown to Graduation, Part Three

Continued from Countdown to Graduation, Part Two.


Tomorrow I will finally graduate from medical school.  As I have been reflecting on the past four and a half years, these are some of the memories I want to be able to share someday with G-Bear, E-Bear and Baby Bear.

Year Three

I took a long weekend off after taking my Board exam to celebrate with T, G-Bear and my parents.  The following Monday I began my third year rotations.   I started with pediatric orthopaedic surgery.  One of the residents on the service was so cute that it was distracting :)  It was T!  For two weeks we got to drive to work together.  In the interest of being above reproach, we didn't actually work together during the day, and I made sure to work under other residents.  But, it was wonderful to drive in together, sit together at the conferences, and talk about the day as we headed home.  When my OR ran later into the evening than his did, he would go home and bring G-Bear back to the hospital so that we could all eat dinner on his card when I finished.  The nurses would ask T how he liked having me on the service.   He joked that he enjoyed being the boss.....but it only lasted until we got home :)

I blazed a trail through the first half of third year.  With E-Bear growing bigger in my belly everyday, I was intent on finishing as many hard rotations as I could before he arrived.  I powered through 5 months of medicine, surgery and OB/Gyn.  While I was on pediatric surgery, I watched surgeries performed on babies that were younger than sweet baby E-Bear who was still growing inside me.  On those days, I could barely hold back my tears in the OR.  Despite the early mornings and late nights, I loved working with patients and the hands-on learning style.  I missed T and G-Bear like crazy, especially on my call nights.  

A "Good morning, Mommy!" picture of G-Bear that T sent me one morning when I was on call.
Pics like this kept me going when I was missing them so much.

While I enjoyed all my rotations, OB/Gyn was really special for me.  I rotated on the service during my 30th-36th week pregnant with E-Bear.  I loved everything about caring for pregnant women, gyn patients and delivering babies on labor & delivery.  I soaked up everything I was learning both for my own benefit and for my patients.  When I failed my glucose challenge test during one of my prenatal appointments and had to have a three hour glucose tolerance test, I had it done while I was working in the OB clinic, and I ran down the hall every hour to have my blood drawn at the lab.  It gave me new appreciation for how annoying and uncomfortable some of the tests we ordered could be for patients.  Having had G-Bear before the rotation gave me a special love and perspective that I could share with my patients.  Completing the rotation before E-Bear was born gave me lots of time to reflect and prepare for the miracle of his birth.

Halloween on L&D.  T brought G-Bear to see me because I was on call.

E-Bear was born a few weeks after I finished my OB rotation, just before Christmas.  Thanks to the flexibility of my medical school's curriculum, I was able to schedule nearly all of my vacation time for the weeks after he was born, giving me just over 2 months to be home full time with the Bears.  E-Bear was so easy on his momma, and I treasured the time I had to enjoy the transition from one Bear to two. When I did start back, I scheduled easier, non-call rotations so that I could ease back into the routine.  When I was at work, the kids remained in the able care of the Amazing Miss R, who continued to love them to pieces.  

I finished out the year with radiology and psychiatry.  I was the proud momma of two amazing Bears.  T was rounding the corner of his dreaded third year.  Fourth year was in our sights!  Just before I started fourth year, we vacationed back to Alabama for Aunt A's spectacular wedding.   We returned home, ready to resume the routine.  But there were several more challenges waiting for us in the months ahead.

Countdown to Graduation, Part Two

Continued from Countdown to Graduation, Part One.

Tomorrow I will finally graduate from medical school.  As I have been reflecting on the past four and a half years, these are some of the memories I want to be able to share someday with G-Bear, E-Bear and Baby Bear.

Year Two

I took the summer off between first and second year of medical school.  Students feel a great deal of pressure to land a resume-packing internship, research position or clinical experience for the last summer of medical school.  I, on the other hand, was determined to spend as much time as possible with baby G-Bear.  We did all the things we hadn't yet done together:  we took long late morning naps together on the couch, explored the zoo, went on long walks without flashcards and even took a trip to visit family in Alabama with T.  

GranMo offered to care for G-Bear several days a week when I returned to school in the fall.  I studied and watched lectures from home when I could, and GranMo took G-Bear on days when my presence was required in small groups or lab sessions.  I pumped plenty of bottles at school, but whenever possible I would run home after a small group session or over lunch so that I could nurse G-Bear myself.  

We took final exams every 4-6 weeks during second year.  The material was interesting and challenging, but I had no idea how much harder the year would suddenly become in mid-fall.  In the middle of October, in the midst of neuropathology and sleep training with G-Bear, I came down with mono.  T was getting annihilated on his first trauma rotation and would routinely fall asleep moments after arriving home from the hospital.  Sleep deprived and overly exhausted, I asked Nana to come stay with us for a few weeks.  GranMo had been an amazing help, but she was starting to feel sick herself, and we needed back-up.  Nana got us through two grueling weeks.  It was almost time for her to head home.

Then came the Wednesday night that GranMo called.  She had been seeing a doctor for several weeks. He had run lots of tests, and the results were back.  My mom wasn't just sick.  She had multiple myeloma, a cancer of a cell in her bone marrow.  T and I brought pizza over to my parents.  We sat in the living room, and we all cried.  Multiple myeloma isn't a curable cancer.  Nana cancelled her flight home so that she could stay another two weeks.  Before T and I left my parents' house, mom said, "I just don't want this to affect your year at school."

For the second time in medical school, I was ready to meet with the dean to withdraw from my class.  My mom had cancer.  My daughter was only 6 months old, and I had no backup childcare plan.  My husband was getting obliterated at work.  My mom had incurable cancer.  She and G-Bear were best friends.  G-Bear would be too young to remember all the time they had spent together.

My three best friends met me at the door of our lab session the next morning.  Someone, either T or Nana, had called them to tell them the news.  I sobbed in the hallway and told them my plans to stop.  

"You are not dropping out," they said to me, "we are going to get through this together."

So as GranMo started chemotherapy the next week, I trudged back to school.  Every week I had to arrange a different group of babysitters to stay with G-Bear during my required small group sessions.  I did everything else from home while caring for her.  My study group friends made good on their promise.  They would come over in the afternoons after lectures.   We would sit on the floor with G-Bear and do flashcards or quiz each other.  I watched lectures as G-Bear napped, while we played, when we ate, as I did her laundry, and late into the night.  Just as I would start to fall behind, the study group would come over for dinner and spend all evening reviewing in our one bedroom condo.  They were ruthless in their commitment to get me through the year.   "We are all going to take Boards together on the same day this spring," we promised each other.  I wasn't so sure I would make it.

In January we received our first miracle.  Two wonderful women came into our lives to take care of G-Bear full time while I was at school.  In the nick of time, I was able to go back to class for the marathon spring semester before Boards.  G-Bear flourished with her new routine, and while I was far less thrilled with mine, I could see a light at the end of the tunnel.   A week before G-Bear's first birthday, I found out I was pregnant with E-Bear.  Like I said, there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

But, we also received another set back.  GranMo's chemotherapy had done all it could.  A stem cell transplant was the best treatment her doctors could offer.  As I began to prepare for spring finals, GranMo was preparing for her transplant.  We drove the hour-long trip to her doctor together one day so that I could be with her for one of her planning sessions.  I was in the middle of my hematology oncology unit at school.  I didn't miss a single question about multiple myeloma on my final.

GranMo received her transplant as I started studying for Boards.  As sick as I felt, studying for Boards in my first trimester with E-Bear, I knew MoMo felt sicker.  I got to see her only one day during the process, when we drove down to see her for Mother's Day.   She had lost her beautiful hair.  GranMo is a fighter, and even though she was feeling awful, she had her best smile on for us.  G-Bear paused only for a moment when she saw MoMo;  even without hair, she knew the twinkle in the smile.  

Early in the morning on May 23rd, as promised, my study group friends picked me up and we went together to take our Boards.  That evening we had dinner together with our families.  MoMo and Papa called.  MoMo had been cleared to come home the next day.   As we celebrated together that weekend, we announced our news about E-Bear.  

It seemed as though we had been walking through parted waters.   Surrounded and threatened on every side, with God's help, His Name be praised, we had walked on dry land.