MOTHERS IN MEDICINE
EVERYWHERE, ALWAYS
AUTHOR Natalie Henderson, MD
“We have great news!
You have a date
in Addis Ababa,
Ethiopia to pick
up your son, Tedi.
It’s earlier than we
expected. You have
to be there on July
1!” I met what should have been the most exciting news with a deafening,
defeated silence. July 1 is the day I had been working towards
for years in my professional life. It was the day I would become an
actual doctor and begin pediatric residency. It was not the day I
envisioned becoming a mother for the first time. In a cruel twist of
fate, my two biggest dreams were coming to fruition—on the same
day. And on opposite sides of the globe! Our son Tedi was waiting
for us in Ethiopia, and my internship awaited me in Louisville.
We made the difficult decision for my husband to travel solo
to Ethiopia while I started my internship in pediatrics. I became a
mom on July 3 of my intern year in the B Concourse of Louisville
International Airport after a Saturday of rounding with cardiology.
Our second son, Chernet, was adopted two years later. Not
dissimilar, I spent the day rounding in the pediatric intensive care
unit (PICU) as a third-year resident and later headed to the airport
to become a mother for the second time. Less than 48 hours later,
I was scheduled to return to work in the PICU (no one ever said
being a working mom would be easy). When my attending heard
this, she graciously volunteered to cover half my shift in the resident
role. I was able to participate in bedtime routines with our
new son. This show of selflessness solidified my decision to pursue
a career in PICU medicine in Louisville. That attending is now a
colleague and friend.
The fall after starting my PICU fellowship, I was excited to learn
I was pregnant. You should not be surprised to know it was another
boy. Joseph was born in August of my second year of fellowship.
The birth of our biological son and meeting our adopted sons were
very different. I met our third son at the hospital rather than the
airport (I have the C-section scar to prove it). Also, I did not have
to round on the day I gave birth! That is where the differences cease.
Many say, “Oh this always happens after people adopt” or, “You
finally had one of your own.” I still find these to be thoughtless and
insulting phrases, even from “well-meaning” people, in that they
insinuate our biological son is more ours or more important than
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