Rankled

It is 10:18 at night, and I am very tired but cannot sleep, a little due to active baby, but primarily because I have felt rankled ever since we drove home from a very pleasant dinner at a friends' house.  The male in this very egalitarian couple is also a resident, and Kirk made some passing comment when we were leaving about how he and other residents were joking that it would be great if wives (even though the majority of residents in the program are female...) could shadow the residents to see how hard their work really is. 

Of course, Kirk is snoring blissfully away, and I know he really was up all night long last night and that he works very long hours and often does not sleep at all 1 out of every 4 nights and is coming up on a two week stretch in which he is up every second night. 

The thing is, I know this.  I know he works hard and is tired.  I hear enough to know it is often very stressful and that awful things happen regulary.  Trust me, I know he is not around a lot.

I also know, from a conversation we had the other day, that if he had a chance to change careers at this point, he would not do it because he loves what he does.

I know that if he doesn't sleep all night, he gets to come home and nap.

I know that he gets to learn and think critically every day.

I know that he gets told if he does a good job.

I know patients and parents appreciate him.

I know that he gets to have "Dr." in front of his name.

I know that I do his laundry, his grocery shopping, his dishes, his endless tidying, his bill paying (even though I forgot to pay the hydro bill last month and almost got our power cut off, which caused a sobbing fit on my part, which no one acknowledged but the dog), his worrying and squirrelling away for increased interest rates, most of his cooking, make sure extra-curriculars, childcare, birthday parties and presents and the Easter Bunny are arranged for Anja, walk the dog, deal with endless errands, do not get to be the "hero-daddy-fun-guy" everytime I swoop home, and hey, have to work (don't get me wrong, I am grateful I have a job that works so well with children and above chores) but as no-one wants to take English, no-one appreciates it, and I certainly don't get any prestige, and why not balance that out with trying endlessly to get the goddamn dog pee smell out of the carpets, only to be told I am not housetraining her right, and I need to get the steamcleaner fixed and the carpets done, and by the way I yell at Anja too much.  And if we are both sick and barfing, even though I am pregnant, I'm the one who does not get to nap and moan all day and by the way, if I have a miscarriage, I cannot expect a phone call to check to see I am not hemmoraging because the ICU is too busy, and oh, and when he finally starts practicing, it is a lot of pressure on him if I decide not to work and actually want help with the 4 children required for a busy, bustling household. 

Hmmm.  I seem quite bitter, don't I?  And clearly I can't seem to rid myself of past resentments. Well maybe it's time to admit that I AM bitter and jealous, and I have no idea how not to be. And he really is a decent person.  I know this too.  I guess I'm just upset at the implication that it is all gravy for me, and that I don't appreciate what he does.

And people say "it will all be worth it in the end," but can't they see that all of his rewards are not necessarily my rewards?  So what if one day in 4 or 5 years we have money and expensive kitchen appliances?  Where have I gone in this process?  I seem to remember about five years ago I was in graduate school and was accepted into the Banff Writers Studio and had a book accepted for publication.  I seem to recall completing 4 university degrees, and being invited to apply to graduate programs.  I seem to recall once having goals beyond getting the towels folded (which I failed to do today).

It is a wierd place to be - knowing I have a strong and healthy daughter, a new baby on the way, a house over my head and food on the table - and for these I am truly grateful.  Most days, I wake up in the morning and remind myself to try to enjoy it.  I truly WANT to give in to being totally engrossed in and satisfied by this.  Why can't I just do all this for the love in my heart, beyond the fact that I seem naturally to be a grinchy person? 

But always are the other thoughts:  who am I now, and how will this end?  I've heard lots of couples get divorced throughout this med school/residency process, and these are the kinds of days I certainly know why.  And a huge part of me thinks we should go to some kind of counselling, but, stubbornly and idiotically, I refuse to do it because that means another thing I'd have to be invested in all by myself and organize it, of course, around his all-important, ever-changing schedule to boot.

And so, stuck in the mud. Or, to use a visual reference, imagine me as Holly Hunter in The Piano (the musical score I played endlessly when pregnant with Anja) with one foot tied to the sinking piano, her skirts billowing up around her.  Will She Struggle Herself Free?

PS.  Any one know any good books about four-year-olds out there?