I cannot recall ever being asked this question before becoming a mother. I heard the question here and there after having Skylar and it seemed as though the more pregnant I was and the more babies I birthed, the more frequent the reaction, “I don’t know how you do it.” The tone and the intention would vary, but the phrase remained the same. At first, I would ask myself. “Do what?” I didn’t get it. I’m just here at work when I’m supposed to be and doing the job I’m supposed to do. Sometimes, I would look around and double check that they were talking to me and that the comment wasn’t meant for someone nearby. For a short period, that response started to make me feel slightly insecure. What was it that all of these people thought I was doing? I would wonder, nodding my head as I walked through the hospital hallways. I hoped that I wasn’t somehow mistakenly putting on a facade, but I guess I could have been. Because they couldn’t tell that my hair hadn’t been washed in almost a week under my scrub cap, or that I had a dirty pacifier in my work bag, or that I had bribed them all with lollipops to get into the car to daycare this morning so I could get here on time, or that hidden beneath this white coat was spit up on my blouse and under my makeup was darkness below my eyes. If by asking, “How do you do it?” was a gesture of admiration or a compliment in the slightest, I had to shatter this image.

“I don’t do it,” I started responding. Then remind them that it just seems that way. Probably because I post the one photo out of hundreds taken, a snapshot of a moment that would otherwise be lost in the chaos of our 24-hour day, that makes it seem like I’m graciously juggling everything. Or because no one here has ever spent a day in our house. Perhaps they think the way I put patients to sleep under anesthesia is similar to how I put 4 little ones down for bedtime. Maybe they think my tolerance and patience with co-workers, families, and learners is how I handle every fussy baby. Or that my composure during medical emergencies is the way I deal with tantrums and melt-downs. A nurse once commented that she can’t imagine that I have a “mom voice.” She had never heard me raise my tone in all of the years she had worked with me. It felt funny. My children are at home, why would anyone here at the hospital ever hear my “mom voice”?

After some reflection, it may be more accurate if I said, “I don’t do it. At least not all of the time. I do my best and I am able to do my best most of the time because I use all of the help I can get.” For everyone that is curious as to “how” I do it. “It” meaning raise 4 children under 4, work full-time as a physician, accept leadership positions, actively promote my book, blog on a regular basis, and create instagram content as an influencer. Below is my recipe for how:

• Wake up early. Go to bed early.

• Work out. Meditate.

• Drink a lot of water. Drink a lot of caffeine.

• Read.

• Acknowledge that I need help. Balance that with how much help that I want. Then create a village around that dynamic. My village consists of, but is not limited to:

  • My incredibly supportive husband

  • Daycare

  • Au Pair (live-in Nanny)

  • Weekend babysitter

  • Grandma

  • Delivery team: Shipt, Insta-cart, Door Dash

  • House cleaning service

It takes a village. We hear that all of the time when it comes to raising children. This “village” that is spoken of used to consist of nearby immediate family, extended family, other mothers, cousins, neighbors, friends, etc. They brought over meals, watched the kids, ran an errand, kept you company, helped you clean up the kitchen, etc. This was feasible when mothers stayed at home and actually lived in a village.

Now let’s fast forward to modern day. My husband and I both work demanding full-time jobs. His family is 5 hours away. My mother is closer to 6 hours. Between both of our families, my sister is the closest at over 3 hours. We moved onto our street right before the Covid pandemic. We don’t know our neighbors and all of our friends are living busy schedules that are similar to ours. Most of the working mothers I know got about 3-4 months of maternity leave, barely enough time to get situated to a newborn and the newborn situated to their family, let alone help another mother at any length, before getting back to their careers. Villages no longer exist.

However, there is a stigma around mothers getting and having help with their day to day obligations. Some describe it as guilt, others feel judged. I don’t understand it at all. Whether working or stay-at-home, if villages don’t exists, are we expected to do it all? For too many women, the answer is yes. Society’s answer is yes as well- yes, she is. She is expected to work, do the chores, raise decent humans, lose the baby weight, cook dinner, get a shower in, keep her husband happy, fold the laundry, and so on and so forth. With the transformation of women over the decades, it only makes sense that the village transforms with her. You can call it help or you can call it your village, but the purpose remains the same. For me, my village is “how” many of my needs and therefore, many of my family’s needs are met. Sure, I could step back or scale down, but why should I have to if that isn’t what I want right now?

I want to be a doctor. I went through a lot of school and training to earn the privilege of saving lives. I take pride in what I do and I love my career. I want to be a successful author. Ever since I published, I discovered a newfound purpose I am serving by sharing my story with others. Becoming a mother shouldn’t mean I have to sacrifice the things that fulfill me in life because these are the same things that keep me fulfilling my family. In the same breadth, I also need to be proactive and disciplined in doing the things that keep my spark lit and my energy positive. Therefore, my alarm is set at 430am and it is my intention to get my workout in and my endorphins flowing. Then I try to meditate right before I welcome the peacefulness that only exists just before the sun meets the horizon and everyone starts to stir. By walking in my purpose and prioritizing less than one hour of the day, I am given perspective and gratitude, which manifests as presence and patience.

Being a selfless mom isn’t trendy. Don’t glamorize it. The world needs more moms that focus on themselves. My village allows me a sense of freedom. If I don’t want to spend an entire day cleaning our house because I rather spend the entire day running around with the kids at a waterpark then I have the freedom to do that. If I don’t feel like doing bath time every evening because I would rather do the dishes in peace or vice versa then I have the freedom to do that. I traded the time it used to take me to go grocery shopping, stop at Costco and at target with time that I get to read and blog. These are luxuries that I have earned and it is nothing to be ashamed of. I am wildly fortunate. So when the person in the elevator turns to me, her eyebrows bent in confusion, and says, “You seem so happy!” It’s because I am happy. For me, doing my best does not mean I made a healthy home-cooked meal or successfully washed crayons off our walls. Sometimes, it means I got Chinese delivered on my way home from an awesome day at work and ignored the scribbles so I could enjoy really big hugs from really tiny arms as soon as I step into the house. My village allows me to create space for more meaningful moments with my husband and 4 children. By not only accepting help, but proactively seeking it, and letting go of some of those duties and expectations, I continue my pursuit of happiness.

The how becomes obsolete when we remind ourselves of why we do the things we do. The importance of why magnified when I became a mother, and although not always obvious, by keeping myself fulfilled is how I put my family first. So, for those who are genuinely interested in how I do it, just ask me why…

Not how, but why.