As a vascular surgery resident, our training emphasizes anticipating and planning for complications. This mindset is undoubtably critical clinically but can be less beneficial in settings outside of hospital confines. It certainly was my first reaction to the positive pregnancy test halfway through my second year of clinical training.
To be clear, the timing didn’t help. I had just started my pediatric surgery rotation, where my waking hours were spent with babies crashing onto extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (ECMO), undergoing exploratory laparotomies in the neonatal intensive care unit (ICU), or screeching through during trauma activations. My subsequent months in the surgical ICU presented a fresh set of challenges. I was inundated with a wave of post-partum patients that demonstrated all the ways childbirth would try to kill you. I was thoroughly convinced that one of these worst-case scenarios would become my reality, and I carried out my daily life with a simmering sense of unease.
While I certainly received my fair share of off hand comments and physical struggles, these mental hurdles proved to be the most taxing experience. With family on the opposite coast and close friends scattered throughout the country, my primary goal was to simply get through my pregnancy. And, I somehow only did because the community in the hospital reached out in ways I could never have dreamed of.
Operating room staff would sneak stools behind me for all cases and refused to let me move patients. Our advanced practice providers would stock their mini-fridge with ginger ale and regularly allowed me to raid their personal snack stash. My attendings were willing to cover call shifts when the morning sickness extended far past the morning and felt much stronger than just “sickness.”
My co-residents threw the most incredible, well-fed baby shower, complete with themes, a balloon arch, charcuterie and a custom cake. They all pitched in to buy me a stroller, the first thing I let my husband assemble. I am especially grateful for the food and designer adult diapers they brought to the hospital.
This generosity extended far beyond just the pregnancy period. I came home from the hospital to flowers, food delivered personally to my home, and even had people come over to cook food within my home. I received bags of clothes, extra bassinets and baby swings, all materializing through a support network I previously did not fully appreciate. Even as I reflect on the experience, I am struck by just how invested and kind every individual was. I made it through the nine months in large part because of every single person who took time and energy out of their busy schedule to care for me.
While my narrative is one of gratitude and community support, I am acutely aware that not all share this experience. As a cisgender, heterosexual, Asian female who did not face significant medical complications or the challenges of alternative paths to parenthood, my experience was in many ways very straightforward. I was fortunate to spend the latter part of my pregnancy in my research year, which provided a degree of flexibility many do not have.
There remains a multitude of reasons that better cultural, structural and institutional support is needed for family-building alongside surgical careers. There has been an incredible influx of literature discussing pregnancy complications, leave policies, post-partum support, discrimination, among other topics. These discussions are crucial as they pave the way for a more inclusive and supportive environment for those who come after us.
Christina L. Cui, MD, is an integrated vascular surgery resident at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina.
