The Entrepreneurial MD for Women

Finding the balance between medicine and business

A working physician mom touches the texture of her days

I’m one month into my redesigned life as a physician mom and simultaneous physician business owner who traded in a nanny for an online business manager. As each day passes, I feel myself reaching out more and more to touch and stroke the textures of my life.

There is the start to the morning – a brief lie-in as I catch the news headlines and drink the welcome cup of tea brought to my bedside by my dear husband who knows I can’t open my eyes until that first sip. As I lie enshrouded in semi-sleep and the warmth of the winter sheets, I keep hoping my eight-year-old daughter will join me, as she used to. But her re-energized body is eager for the day and she has bounded downstairs to raid the pantry, hoping I won’t notice the Oreo crumbs later.

A quick scan of my e-mail lets me know if any of the day’s plans have changed, or if there’s pending excitement – a new introduction? A potential new client? A new networking opportunity?

Downstairs, as I prepare breakfast, I glance at the cat stretched out in the small patch of sunshine that spills through the sliding door. I hear the crinkle of the newspaper and the tap of my husband’s spoon in his cereal bowl as he multitasks, both eating and reading. My Energizer Bunny is practicing cartwheels or trying on the new blond wig that came in the mail yesterday.

Suddenly, my house is quiet. The office stands at the ready with its papers, scheduler, multicolored calendar, folders and glowing computer screen. My glasses rest quietly by my keyboard, waiting for me – I’m darned if I can recall the moment when they became indispensable!

Many hours later, a notice pops up on my screen letting me know it’s that time – time to pick my daughter up from school. Time for that moment I’ve been yearning for, for the last year, and am now privileged to enjoy. And there’s no wiggle room. No last-minute quick phone call or dashed-off e-mail. She’ll be standing outside, hopping on one leg or swinging her school bag, waiting for me 15 minutes from now.

As the early wintry dusk closes in, and the heater thumps into life, I stand at the kitchen island preparing evening salads, listening to my daughter’s tuneless humming and watching her tongue angle its way across her lips as she bestows her fierce concentration on homework.

Oops - there goes a cartwheel between subjects. And then I hear the magic words “Mommy, did I tell you about …?”

This precious moment is why I no longer desire outside help!
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