Sorry for the late post. A million little things happened this morning, so I didn’t get to it. I have been toying with this idea of answering the odd questions that come up because of Travis’ job. People have inquired what it is like to be married to an ob/gyn. Let me first mention that I didn’t actually marry an ob/gyn. I married a strapping young medical student who told me that he was going into orthopedics. In his third year of medical school, he sat in on a hip replacement and nearly vomited. That was the end of orthopedics. But it was okay because he specifically told me that, “The only thing I would never be is an ob/gyn.” To which I responded, “Good thing, because it would be so awkward to be married to one of those.” Ah, the fates laughed. 

So, now that I am married to one of those, I thought I would clear the air about being the other half. I have compiled a list of things that are my normal. 

Whenever I am in his car and put down the sun visor, an avalanche of paper and an IUD falls on my head. Every time. The paper above the visor is his filing system for mail. The IUD is there because he brought it home to show Tayden last year, when Tayden was in vocational school, to see if the two of them could design and 3D print a different insertion tool than the one commonly used. The tool didn’t happen, but the IUD stayed in the car. The kids will have to write a blog about being the child of an ob/gyn. What high school senior boy even knows what an IUD is? Mine do. I simply untangled the IUD string from my hair and sighed. 

Whenever we go to a party, Travis knows all the ladies. He usually knows a fair amount of the guys too (if he delivered their babies). This part has become far less awkward than I ever thought it would be. I meet a couple of them, then move along to a group I already know, leaving Travis to discuss more personal matters. Also, another tidbit, when Travis introduces me, he will say, “This is my wife Joanne.” At this que, I reach out my hand and say that it’s so nice to meet you. He will not tell me your name because he knows you as a patient and he questions whether that is appropriate. You will have to give me your name. And no, I do not size anyone up or compare them to me. At this point, most of the women are far younger than me, so I can’t compete anyway. Besides, I don’t think ob’s have the best angle. And Travis is looking at them far too clinically anyway, so there is really no need for weirdness. 

There have been a couple weird party moments in the past. At one hospital work party, I stepped into the bathroom as we were on our way out, leaving Travis to wait. As I was finishing up in the stall, two women came in and occupied two other stalls. While washing my hands, I listened to their conversation, which went like this:

Woman 1: Did you see Dr. Haldeman is here?

Woman 2: Yeah, but I don’t think he recognized me.

Woman 1: Maybe you should drop your drawers and lift your leg. Maybe

 he would recognize you then. 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Woman 2: That could work!

I waited a while, then I added to the conversation, “Wouldn’t it be so

awkward if his wife was in the bathroom too?” Then I laughed as I

walked out, listening to their mortified silence. I told Travis that we better

get moving along.

I overheard another odd conversation much earlier in his career, at a hospital fundraiser, again, in the bathroom. 

Woman 1: Dr. Haldeman is here. He’s one of the only guys here. But I bet he’s used to that.

Woman 2: Ha Ha! Yeah, right. He’s kinda good looking. 

Woman 1: Definitely the best looking guy here. Not that there’s much competition. 

Woman 2: I wonder what his status is. Docs get divorced all the time. 

Woman 1: Right!

At this point, I was washing my hands. I waited until they came out of their stalls, looked right at them and said, “Living the dream right here.” Then, I turned and walked out. I plastered myself to Travis’ side (which is not usually like me) until I saw them again. I hooked my arm through Trav’s and waved. Their faces turned shades of red not previously seen in humans. Only then did I release Travis to move about the room freely. He’s STILL not divorced, ladies. 

I never know when he is coming home. And he frequently doesn’t answer his phone (surgery, patients, etc). I have gotten used to this uncertainty. All of our friends are pretty understanding. Turns out, I am pretty self sufficient. In fact, I have adjusted so well that I find myself irritated when he is home too much. It’s not that I don’t want him around. It’s just that our marriage has forced me to handle issues on my own, so the change can be startling. 

It’s normal to wake up in the middle of the night to find that Travis is gone. When our kids were little, I would wake up at everything. Now, he can actually get up, dress, and leave the house without me waking. My secret fear is that he gets in an accident and gets hurt and I didn’t even know that he was gone, so how could I even be looking for him.  Everyone would wonder why I didn’t notice he was missing. Because he is always missing. And he is frequently a man of few words, so he doesn’t offer any explanation before leaving, whether it’s to work or Home Depot. 

Never trust Travis’ ability to keep track of time. I think that he is so used to running late that he now considers late on time. It is the curse of the ob. They get hung up in a delivery or a surgery and run late on a daily basis. They get so used to it that their internal clocks permanently change, making late normal. If we are late arriving somewhere, it is not usually my fault. Unless Travis isn’t with me. Then, it is definitely my fault. 

There is so much to add to this, but the blog is getting too long already! Perhaps a follow up another time. Have a great week everyone!