I became a mom in medical school. I became a mom at a time when many people told me I shouldn't (or couldn't) do it.
They said, "Just going for the medical degree, but not the career then?" As if being a mother would somehow make me incapable of the clinical practice of medicine. Another person told me, "You should choose an easier specialty." One even said, "You can't be a good doctor and a good mother."
This messaging didn't stop when medical school was over. About 2 years into my internal medicine residency, one of my family members even told me to quit.
As a woman in medicine, there's a challenging paradox: Embryology is one of our first courses in school. We learn early on that our eggs are aging right along with us, and that the risk of pregnancy complications and congenital anomalies increase dramatically with age. We are made highly aware our ticking biological clock.
Yet, in the same breath, we are given subtle (and not so subtle) messages to delay pregnancy until an unknown later, if that later ever comes. We are told the work comes first -- before our health and before our families. Anything that pulls us away from that work is a distraction that can deter our learning and burden our colleagues. And more than anything, we do not want to burden our colleagues who are already carrying enough.
It is within this paradox that we learn and train, within this framework of dichotomies that we attempt to decipher how and when to have children. It's a complex path to navigate, and it's different for each person.
I started medical school 3 years later than my peers, and I had my daughter when I was a fourth-year student, at age 28. I was fortunate to have an uncomplicated pregnancy and a healthy child. If I had waited until training was done, I would've been 35, in the category of advanced maternal age. There's no way to know if I would've faced infertility or pregnancy complications at that time, but the data is clear: the chances of those things would've been higher.
Being a mom and medical student (then resident, then fellow) wasn't easy, by any means. There were days in my early pregnancy as a third-year student when I had significant nausea and had to step away from rounds to find a bathroom. My team on the liver wards found out I was pregnant much sooner than I had planned, when I stopped outside a patient's room with a sign on the door reading, Cytomegalovirus infection. NO PREGNANT CAREGIVERS.
I was lucky to be given respect and kindness by the doctors I encountered, in almost all cases, with the exception of one surgical resident.
I took my USMLE Step 2 exams when I was 7 months pregnant. I completed my surgical rotations between months 6 and 8, and the female attending surgeons supported me in endless ways and told me stories of their own pregnancies. When I did my sub-internship from 8 to 9 months of my pregnancy, I was met with professionalism and support.
When I gave birth to my daughter, I was able to use up the vacation time I had saved, and I also took advantage of multiple online elective courses. In all, I was able to stay at home with my daughter for 8 months during my fourth year of school and I still graduated on time. I started my intern year when she was 11 months old, and my daughter is now almost 7 years old, and thriving.
Becoming a parent in medical training isn't easy, by any means, but women in medicine need to hear that it's possible. We need to hear that we can still have fulfilling, successful careers even if we have children during training. We need to hear that we don't have to wait until our training is over to start our families.
To anyone being told they have to put their life -- and plans to be a parent -- on hold until training is done, don't listen. This narrative is not helpful. People will have all sorts of opinions about your decisions. Even so, make the choices that are right for you and your family anyway. We need more representation of parents in training and more support.
is a gastrointestinal oncologist at the Indiana University Simon Comprehensive Cancer Center. She is also a writer, TEDx and commencement speaker, and advocate for humanism in medicine, for both patients and clinicians.