I was recently surprised to learn that I had lost my desire to move back to New York. As recently as a few months ago, when people would ask me whether I envisioned myself staying in California forever, I used to respond with “Probably, because I don’t think I can convince my husband to live anywhere else.” Now I pause, because the answer is that I can’t quite imagine living anywhere else.
When and how did this drastic shift occur? I left New York when I was 18 years old. To be honest, I was thrilled to do so. I lived in the suburbs outside of NYC, had moved during my freshman year of high school (NOT a good situation), and was excited to “discover the world”. I floated around New England for college and medical school, and spent a requisite year living and working in NYC. When it was time for residency selection, my husband (also an East Coaster) and I were adamant that we needed to get out of the cold. He wanted to work in California and I was game to live in California and so I applied and was accepted.
We flew to the West Coast with one suitcase. (I can imagine myself telling this story to my children one day, at which point they’ll roll their eyes at this particular sentence.) We had less than $5,000 combined in our bank accounts. My husband was unemployed (“between jobs”) and I was days shy of starting my intern year. We rented a small unit in a house of four units total and decked it out in IKEA furniture. My husband bought a Samsung flat screen TV which we still own 8 years later. We weren’t married yet but reasoned that we needed to move in together because the rent was too expensive to swing two apartments. When he proposed to me, the engagement ring was the most expensive thing we owned. We didn’t have much but we were so happy.
In the past 8 years, we’ve spent 5 of them living together (we were apart for 3 years while I completed my residency), got jobs, got married, bought a house, tucked away money for retirement, had 3 kids, tucked away money for college education, and created the life we always wanted – one we could have never quite imagined when we landed in California in 2010.
Yet there were bumps in the road. I started my first job out of residency in 2014 and had a baby 3 months later. I’ve had 2 additional children since. I had no idea how difficult it would be to raise a family away from our families. It often felt impossible. I vividly remember those first colic-filled weeks with our oldest. We had help for a few of them but were on our own most of the time and I cried constantly. When I went back to work I was convinced there was no way I could juggle motherhood and my career without help. Most of our acquaintances at the time were my husband’s friends and, although mostly good people, they just weren’t my people. Is that a terrible thing to say? I hope not. You know that feeling when you just click with someone? When you can tell them anything – lay all your cards on the table, be completely vulnerable – and they will accept you wholeheartedly? Let’s just say I didn’t get that vibe from his people. And that’s what I struggled with the most – not having someone I could text frantically when our first was up at all hours of the night, not having someone I could ask to watch him for an hour while I took a breather, not having a tribe to commiserate with.
So I put myself out there. I met a group of women I now call “The Mommies”. My first mom friends! Now, the group has changed dramatically these past 4 years as moms move away and group dynamics shift, but we have each other’s backs, an ongoing calendar of events, never-ending birthday parties, and most importantly the knowledge that we have known each other since our little ones were just months old. I rekindled friendships with people from my intern year and became closer to co-workers with young children. I met more moms through preschool and subsequent “new mom” groups as more children joined our family. We acquired a network of people who have helped us out in some capacity around the house – gardeners, painters, nannies, cleaning crews, etc. Today, our nanny saw that I was clearing out our shed for some upcoming work and (unsolicited) called her husband to see if he would be willing to pick up all of the items we were throwing out to save us the hassle. He came by an hour later and I was so happy I could have cried. With such distance between ourselves and our families, these random acts of kindness mean everything.
I also have to admit that there are serious perks to living in California: great weather, tons of diversity, generally liberal politics. It’s also true that we both love our jobs and our house. But the game-changer for me was truly the evolution of our community and little village. We’ll see how we feel as the kids get older and schedules become more demanding but, for now, I am truly loving where we live, and this is the first time since 2014 that I’ve been truly able to say that.
Stories of a Life... 