Staying Strong When your Spouse has a Demanding Job

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KATHERINE FINNEY

 

My husband is in his 28th year of school this year. Yes, you read that correctly. He is 32-years-old and is currently a fellow at Vanderbilt University Medical Center, which puts him in his 28th year of receiving some sort of formal education. 

When we got married, I thought the idea of being married to someone in residency would be like a fun adventure. I knew his schedule would be crazy, but I figured the challenges of this state of life would be something we could have fun tackling together. Reality has turned out to be quite different from my expectation. 

I am no expert in being married to someone in training. I’m really no expert in marriage either. But I have been married for five years, and in every one of those five years my husband has been in medical training; my only experience of marriage has been as a wife of a resident (and now a fellow). Goals have been accomplished, but we’re still struggling through training. The light is getting brighter and closer, but the darkness behind us can still be a little hard to reflect on.

If I could give myself advice before entering into marriage with someone just starting residency (or any transient stage of training, continued education, etc), I’d say the following:

Pray. 

This is a Catholic blog, so it may seem necessary to include prayer. But here’s what I mean. There will be times when you will wonder when will be the next time you can sit down and have a meal together. There will be times when you feel like you don’t even know who the person sleeping next to you is anymore, because you never see him/her. In these times, you may feel numb and want to give up. I beg you to pray. Pray in a particular way to tangibly receive the graces of the Sacrament of Marriage. This prayer will be answered, and you will know it when it does. Praise God in those moments.

Make sacramental prayer a priority and habit. 

Again, an obvious recommendation for a Catholic blog. But again, without the grace of the Eucharist and the healing power of Confession, how do you expect to be able to receive the graces of your Sacrament of Marriage? Go to Jesus in the Eucharist, because he will be the one to get you through the hardest patches of this trying time.

Let go of expectations, and let go of comparisons. 

You may know a couple or couples in similar situations as you. They may even be Catholic, prayerful people. Do not live your life by comparing your relationship to theirs. Do not expect yourself to keep up with their timelines (of having kids, buying a house, achieving goals within residency/training).

Every couple is different and is called uniquely to their specific vocation. Every couple has different emotional, mental, physical struggles and strengths. Your way of doing things can be different than couples in similar situations to you. The only people who should be involved in a couple’s decisions should be the husband, wife, and God--and helpful spiritual directors/advisors as you see fit. Residency is hard enough to get through without the pressures of expectations you place on yourself to keep up with what others are doing.

Find a support system. 

Surrounding yourself with a community of support, especially if you’re away from family or are having children, is vital. Being away from family with small kids is no joke. When your village is far away, find people who can be your village. Be a village for them too. If possible, find couples in similar situations who are also far from home, so that you can support each other during holidays, postpartum recovery time, or extended periods away from family.

Remember your mission. 

You have been called to serve or to heal. Remember you’ve been called to something greater than yourself. I find that when I view the challenges of being a resident’s wife as part of my missionary call, I’m more inclined to embrace the challenges rather than to run from or resent them. The challenges don’t get easier, but they have purpose when I look at them as part of a greater call.

I asked my husband if he had anything to add to this, from the perspective of both the husband and the trainee/doctor in the situation. Here’s what he had to say:

Go on dates, at least once a month!

Residency (and parenthood) are roles that demand tremendous amounts from an individual; the external pressures can make it all too easy to neglect your marriage. Don’t let that happen! Initially, I tried to connect with my wife while I was also doing something else (preparing for the next day, cleaning the dishes, changing a diaper). But there is something about undivided attention and unquestionable intention that is so much better.

When we started going on dates more consistently, I noticed a huge improvement in our relationship together as well as an improvement in our interactions with the kids. If you are a parent, find some other parents that are looking to go on dates, and do a parent swap to save money on babysitters.

Take time to pray daily. 

During training, I found this to be very effective on the way to and from work. I pray on the way to work every day, which allows me to center myself and be committed to providing the best care possible for my patients before seeing them. Praying in my car after work also provided a timely transition to recap the day—what went well, what didn’t go so well, and what can be done to improve things--before being present to my family.

About the Author: Katherine (Schluter) Finney is proudly from New Orleans, Louisiana, currently living in Nashville, Tennessee while her husband Jonathan finishes fellowship training. She and Jonathan have two daughters, Miriam (3) and Joan (18 months). Kat taught high school religion for four years and has worked for Catholic high schools for six years. She currently stays at home with her two daughters, and she spends most of her time styling hamster play-doh hair and cooking some kind of creole dish for dinner.

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Struggling to Balance Work, Vocation, and New Motherhood? You Aren't Alone.

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EILEEN MARINO

 

On my wedding day, it was easy for me to look at the man I loved, excited to create a home and family with him. To shepherd him to heaven and let him do that for me. When I looked at our friends joining the priesthood or struggling in single life, I was even more overcome with gratitude. How lucky was I to have found my vocation so young, and to have a partner who would help make things easy and joyful!

I was right in how blessed I was, but easy is now the last word I would use to describe my vocation.

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I hear love is a verb. It’s much easier to choose sacrifice when you’re on a honeymoon high and want only to dote than it is to let your spouse sleep in the middle of the night when your baby starts screaming.

I knew marriage--and the Catholic faith at its core--is to lay down your entire life and will for Christ. Doing it joyfully has been the most humbling lesson of my life, one I could only learn through the throes of marriage.

When I got pregnant earlier than I anticipated, I didn’t expect my joy to mingle with sadness. We had talked about children and thought my staying at home with them would be best for our family. Yet my career was such a huge piece of my vocation that leaving it earlier than expected felt a lot like dying.

So here I was at twenty four, trying not to blame my husband for this position while feeling like it was his fault, trying to put on a good face through an incredibly painful pregnancy, and trying desperately to let go of the sadness I felt to be having a child. I felt like a terrible person for sharing love with guilt.

And then our son was born. My world exploded and our marriage crashed into an entirely new dimension. We had just learned how to live together, communicate, and give things up to make the other happy, only to make room for another even needier human. The baby needed so much attention we literally had no time for our relationship as husband and wife.

I worked for seven months more, thinking if I worked while my baby was young, I could still have that time to chip away at this non-mother piece of me before my son got too big. In every moment I wasn’t caring for my son, I was struggling: to hit deadlines, to make us food, to clean the house. To take a shower once every few days. Ultimately, I realized it wasn’t possible anymore and drove to work sobbing as I prepared to give my notice.

It’s a story I’ve hashed out many times in the months since. And I’m home now, which makes me both terribly sad and indescribably happy. It’s only recently that I’ve had enough perspective to reflect on what this all has done to me--to the three of us--and the what now? piece I had been desperately searching for.

Why is this admittedly self-centered tangent even relevant to marriage? Because marriage, as I’m learning, is not about me. And it is not easy.

Being a wife, a mother, a Catholic--and hopefully someday, a saint--means taking on a cross and laying down my life. I’m not trying to be heroic about this, and it is not something I do only with grace every day.

But in the months since letting go of my job, my son has grown so much more full, happy, and joyful. He is leaping across the expectations we had for him; bringing joy to everyone we see, everywhere we go; he is flourishing, in large part, because of the new attention I’ve been able to love him with. He needed me.

My husband and I have, for the first time since I gave birth, had time together. Because I’ve had some time to get chores done I no longer need to work until midnight, I’ve been able to get our son down for bed at the same time every night. We have our nights back to heal, take time together, talk about where we are struggling, and date each other again.

My husband saw how sad and scared I was and has been able to love and comfort me; I was finally able to be vulnerable with him. And I was able to see how I was stretching us all too thin, and in making a decision to give something up for him, he is flourishing too now. There is a peace and a calm in our house that had been missing when everything felt desperate and urgent.

Being a partner--being in it this deep with my husband--is the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. I don’t have all the answers yet, and I may never have them.

I am not advocating that women give their identities up for their families. That’s not a vocation.

But seeing the fruits of my particular call in this season have reminded me my life is bigger than me, for more than me. And so is marriage. Leaving my job, for this season, was a decision best for my particular family, and maybe not for yours, which is alright and good. Perhaps I will find a more flexible job outside of nine to five that lets me work again in the future. For now, I will grow a little boy’s soul and be a balm to his father’s. Being a Catholic, being a Christian, being a spouse, means dying every day for something greater. And eventually, it will mean wanting to.

When we were dating, my husband and I frequently read the writings of John of the Cross--He read to me from The Living Flame of Love a few minutes before proposing! I’ll leave you with a piece of these words. This is marriage, and this is our joy:

O sweet cautery, O delightful wound! O gentle hand! O delicate touch that tastes of eternal life and pays every debt! In killing you changed death to life.

Sacrifice When One of You Works in Ministry

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AMANDA SLOAN

 

Sacrifice.

Sacrifice is probably one of the last words I think of when I think about marriage. In reality, however, sacrifice and marriage are fused together; impossible to separate.

My husband and I are a missionary family with FOCUS. As such, our life involves a fair amount of sacrifice. In the four years we've been married, we've lived in three different states. Moving is a sacrifice. Fundraising your salary is a sacrifice. Solo parenting weekends while my husband is on retreat are a cross to bear. Late nights without him home, because a student is in crisis, are a sacrifice. There are many beautiful moments involved in being in ministry together, but there is also much sacrifice.

The thing about sacrifice is that it can go one of two ways: for a purpose, giving it dignity and meaning, or begrudgingly, making one bitter and resentful. In our time in ministry I've experienced both when these trials have been asked of us.

What I've found, time and again, is that life is more beautiful, our marriage grows deeper, and ministry is more fruitful when we understand and remember the meaning of our sacrifices.

No one forced my husband and I into ministry together, just as no one forced us into marriage. Whether your marriage involves active ministry or not, it will certainly involve sacrifice. When the dirty laundry piles up or the kids are acting like animals at the zoo, I remind myself to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. Seeing it reminds me that these trials and inconveniences aren't just about me--rather, they are for the Kingdom.

At any given moment, my husband is on campus with a student because that student needs a listening ear or an invitation to know and be loved by Jesus. We move around the country because we trust in the guidance of the Holy Spirit and our superiors to place us on the campus where we--with our own unique gifts and shortcomings--are most needed, where our great passion for what we do will touch the hearts and souls of those we come in contact with.

That isn't to say that it is all hearts and rainbows when I look at the bigger picture. The laundry still piles up; the budget gets out of whack; the kids still act like animals. But instead of being bitter about my own frustrations or unmet desires, I see the purpose, the reason, behind it all. I ask myself hard questions instead of just throwing myself a pity-party about the still-unwashed dishes.

Would I rather have my husband home to help me with bedtime, or on campus sharing Jesus with someone who has literally never heard about him before? Would I rather be caught up on the laundry, or take that time to teach my toddler the alphabet? When I can put my sacrifices in context it helps me "offer it up," as the old saying goes.

Not only does this practice make my days easier; it makes my marriage better, too. Rather than being bitter about when my husband does finally come home, I'm excited for his arrival, eager to hear about the work he's done, the students he's befriended and the friendships he is forming.

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus asked His Father to let the cup pass from Him, to not have to endure the struggles and sacrifices of the crucifixion. But ultimately He prayed, "still, not my will but yours be done" (Luke 22:42).

Following His example, we can take the hardships of our marriages to the Father and ask Him to remove them from us, but we must also cede control to His will. If He doesn't remove the struggles we can choose to offer them back to Him, to toil for the Kingdom, making a sweet aroma out of married life's trying sacrifices.

About the Author: Amanda Sloan is a missionary spouse serving alongside her husband, Anthony, with the Fellowship of Catholic University Students (FOCUS). Amanda is also the author of Worthy: See Yourself as God Sees You and the blog Worthy of Agape. In between tea parties and jumping jacks with her two daughters, Amanda enjoys hiking, exploring the outdoors, or stealing away with the computer to write. 

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