The Delightful Paradox

The decision to have a child was not a hard one for me. I love kids. I went into pediatrics because of the patients, not the medicine. But I have to admit, there was some serious trepidation on my part about having a second child. What would it do to my relationship with Grace? What would it mean for us as a family? Underlying it all, the nagging question: can I love two kids equally? Or would I then be splitting the love I have for Grace between two kids?

The answer to this is that I don't have to worry so much. There is a model readily established for dealing with dividing your love between two people... your first kid. Grace, too young to be stymied by logical arguments and mutual exclusivity, when professing her love for her parents will often say to me: "I love you better. I love Mommy the most." Yeah. I can't really say it much better than that, so thank you not-yet-four-year-old. I will always treasure Grace as my first child, the first one to evoke such deep rooted sensations of love and protection in me. I love Violet the same way, and yet differently. She didn't cause such a sea change in the makeup of our family as Grace did. But in her own way she has dramatically altered who we are as a family, and how I view myself as a dad. Now I am the father of kids, not just a kid. She looks (I think) more like me than Grace does. She sleeps differently, she babbles differently, and in many ways I have no idea yet what kind of little person she'll become. The excitement/uncertainty that was present with Grace is still very much there, I just have a bit more experience now.

So it's with this in mind that I have to approach the daunting task of preparing to adopt, which is how we've elected to expand our family to five. There is a whole new realm of murkiness and doubt in this. Will I be able to love my nonbiological child as much as my biological kids? Will I deal well with all the complexities and loss this child will face as he/she ages with me as a parent instead of the person who gave them life? Two worked out all right, but will I be able to split my love between three children?

But I know now that there is no splitting involved. The love you have for your kids is not a bag of candy, at constant risk of being emptied the more you dip into it. It's a living and growing thing, perhaps a fruit tree that's never out of season. And very large. And the fruit grows really fast. And you can't pick it all, because more will replace it. And... yeah, it's like that. I'm not so good at analogies. Maybe it's just a bettermost tree.

Why So Contrary?

So after a considerable hiatus I've dusted off the blog.  I've imported most of the old posts here. It seemed a good idea at the time, but maybe I'm just furthering Google's takeover of all digital information in the world.  Who can say?

The last year has been interesting to say the least.  New job, new city, new baby, and along with it all a new year, a new president, and some new outlooks on life.  Living back in Dallas has reminded me of a lot of things I don't particularly like: consumerism, selfishness, insincerity of faith, disdain for honest thought or debate.  That's not to say I'm above those things.  In fact, what I think bugs me about them is that I see them in myself quite readily, either lurking at various depths beneath the surface, or bobbing merrily along on the waves and soaking up the sun.  But being back here has also made me very aware of something else.  I'm not sure I play well with others.  In Connecticut I rolled my eyes at all the liberal elitism and self-righteous political leanings.  Now that we're back in Dallas I can't stomach what seems like conservative greed, lack of concern for others, and self-righteous political leanings.  No matter where we go I think I'll be going against the dominant culture.

It's not helped by the fact that we live in a society where the majority opinion has little incentive to pay any attention whatsoever to the minority opinion.  Chances are that's just who I am; it could be that I just like to stir up trouble.  I probably should have been a lawyer after all.  (But I am rather fond of the fact that my dad speaks to me, and I can't guarantee that would be the case had professional arguer been my career choice.)  So while it normally seems to apply to contrary financial investment strategies, The Contrarian seems an appropriate enough title for this thing.  I'll try to periodically update with what's bouncing around in my head.

The Last Last

Things are winding down here in New Haven. Actually, that’s not quite true. Winding down implies a slow and steady decrease in pace. This was more like a frenetic dash through calendar days until suddenly... there’s nothing left to do.

We sold our house. We went to Texas and bought a new one. I gathered multiple documents and applied for my for-real-grown-up-doctor medical license. We packed up and moved our belongings. I went to the Pediatric Academic Society meeting in Hawaii to interview for the Pediatric Scientist Development Program. I studied for (and passed) the Texas Medical Jurisprudence exam. I worked long into the night making and editing our final residency class skit. I went to my graduation dinner (skit a huge success, thank you very much). I found out that I was awarded a PSDP grant.

Now I find myself vaguely blue, or at the least sentimental. It’s not that I’m not ready to move on with life. I most assuredly am, and will be glad to be done with residency. It’s just that our time here has been so filled with change and intensity. Despite how ready I am to be done there’s this angle of bitter-sweetness or melancholy that I can’t seem to shake.

I’ve been ticking lasts off of a mental list. Last call night. Last day on the wards. Last ED shift. Last night in the first house we owned. Last visit to restaurants we like. Last time I’ll see this friend or that attending. Last end of the year dinner. Last night with Julia and Grace in New Haven. Soon last continuity clinic and last night of pager call. After that, last day of residency. Then... what? I get in a car with the dog and drive out of town. And somewhere in there is the last last. At some point I have to stop counting lasts and start counting firsts.