Super, Special Day

Last week, I was repeatedly catching puke in a large plastic bowl and comforting my distraught, panicked daughter while simultaneously trying to stifle my own nausea after having just recovered from the same stomach plague. It wasn’t pretty. With three kids ages 7, 5 and 2, I’m in the trenches of parenting. It gets straight up cray-cray down here, but at this point in my career, I’m able to roll with the punches pretty damn well. But as I’ve grown and matured into motherhood, I’ve had to make sacrifices along the way. Like dignity. Cause after every med student this side of the Flint Hills has seen your hoohoo during childbirth, you’re just less inclined to care about putting it all out there. And let’s not forget cervical checks. Like a damn cow I tell …

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