Dr. Mom
The truth about "the mommy track."
by Tara Bishop, M.D.
May 21, 2007
Exhausted at the end of a day spent chasing my two-year-old son around the park and nursing my three-month-old baby every two hours, I collapsed into bed. Just as I was drifting off, I heard the sound of dishes being shifted on the table. My eyes shot open and my head jerked up. "Honey, I'll do it," I called out to my husband, home from his thirteen-hour work day.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll just stick 'em in the dishwasher and crawl into bed with you."
I should have felt grateful, but what I felt was guilt bordering on panic: I should be doing those dishes. That sinking feeling has become a common one in my new life as a doctor turned stay-at-home mother on what the New York Times and several recent books dismissively refer to as the "mommy track."
Several months ago, I was working full time — actually, more than full time. I had an eighteen-month-old son and was slowly rising in the ranks of doctor-hood. I worked sixty-hour weeks, often evenings and weekends. I wasn't happy. In fact, I was miserable. I felt extremely guilty for not being home more with my son (even though he seemed happy spending his days swinging in the park with a very loving nanny). I was stressed — constantly struggling to keep my home life afloat. But I was on a secure path to a high-flying career and had figured out ways to keep my life organized: order groceries on Tuesday to be delivered on Friday morning, work on my research project at night after everyone else had gone to sleep.
Nine months into my first year of fellowship,
I was embarrassed to be wasting an undergraduate degree from M.I.T. in chemical engineering and a medical degree from Cornell.I unexpectedly got pregnant again. Instead of being overjoyed, I felt overwhelmed. With the pregnancy test in hand, I turned to my husband, tears blurring my vision, and asked how I could keep doing what I was doing with another baby at home.
He wrapped his arms around me, and said, "You don't have to."
On that cloudy April evening, I decided to quit my job. There wasn't even a debate over who should stay home. My husband made more money than me in his finance job, loved going to work and never felt guilty leaving our son.
I wasn't completely comfortable quitting my job, so I told people that I was "taking a break." In fact, I was embarrassed to be wasting an undergraduate degree from M.I.T. in chemical engineering and a medical degree from Cornell. Before my son was born, I read the "Opt-Out Revolution" in the New York Times and saw a Sixty Minutes segment about highly educated and successful women who gave up their work to be home with their kids. At the time, I vowed never to sacrifice my career.
©2007 Tara Bishop and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Tara Bishop a physician with degrees from MIT and Cornell. Her writing has appeared in the Annals of Internal Medicine and Clinical Geriatrics. She lives in New York with her husband and two sons and is at work on a novel.
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