life – The Grieving Doctor Mom

For the last years I have seen Facebook posts on various community pages asking if I was retiring. On July 15 I will celebrate my 30th anniversary of practicing pediatrics. I came right out of residency to join three great pediatricians at a group known then as North Point Pediatrics, affiliated with St. Anthony Medical Center in Crown Point, Indiana.

On August 28, 2026, I will see my last patients, chart my last note, hand in my ID, and end a career that I dedicated just a bit over half of my life to. I make this announcement more than six months from the date, as my employer informed the nursery staff and referring OB/Gyns of my retirement a few days ago. I know word travels fast in our great and growing community. Juicy rumors can be put to rest now.

Two years ago I almost left my current practice for another location. I had the contract in my hand (more like document in my email) and just had to sign. With a great deal of prayer and family input, I decided to stay and finish my medical career with Franciscan Health. I was questioning – was the grass greener on the other side? Thankfully I found out less than a year later that the other health care system had problems, and I may not have been in a better place, but instead with more headaches and uncertainty.

I am often told I am a strong woman. Now I have no problem agreeing with this, since any parent that has lost a child, especially a loss due to suicide, is strong. The life path parents take after they lose a child to suicide is varied. Some go back to their same career full-time, some part-time, or change careers. Some never work again. My employer, partners and staff were so supportive in the first months and year. The first year of loss from suicide is so hard. But the second year – that was worse.

I remember hearing a grieving parent at a support group say the second year was harder. I remember thinking “NO %Y@$*@ way!!!” The first year I was numb with my pain and loss. Work was time where I could not grieve. Driving home from work and on my days off I could not avoid it. The second Christmas without Nolan I was at my lowest.

I had my double life of competent working pediatrician and my home life of complete raw emotional grief. Anyone who has read my posts knows how tiring it was for me to live with my grief still part of my life and continue being me. This September will be ten years since Nolan’s passing.

Grief has been described as the loss of an “assumptive world,” in that the generalized sense of predictability and stability of the world has been challenged . Accordingly, clinical approaches have emphasized the need to help the survivor find meaning and a sense of purpose for both the deceased’s life and his or her own life in order to regain a sense of well-being .- C.Rogers, J Fam Psychol. 2008 Apr;22(2):203–211.

My life purpose since Nolan passed was to be a good general pediatrician, and to practice with my heart-felt concern: I cannot be a psychiatrist or therapist, but I can help address the growing issue that was and still is pushing our pediatric population to crisis – rising rates of anxiety, depression and behavioral issues. I think most of you would agree OUR “assumptive world” has changed. Things are not stable nor secure. Yet this is the life I have lived, “my after” for almost ten years. I have been living in bizzarro world already – so none of our world changes is shocking to me.

You may ask —- What am I going to do when I retire?

I need to take care of myself and my family. We are not a big family. Some of us are functioning and others are needing more attention. When you lose a loved one to suicide your life is on a completely different course: you have the before and the after. The after is really hard. You never can go back to the before life. And the after life brings a great amount of stress, anxiety and loneliness. Yes, even many years later it can be difficult. I am smart that I learned from others and allowed myself to feel the depth of my loss.

I don’t know what will be my next career. I know it will not involve medicine. I am not going to another practice and sorry to say, I will not be giving medical care via FB, Messenger or any way you try and reach me. Please don’t try. I need to have some time where I can be a wife, mother, sister, aunt, and friend first and only. Starting August 29 it will be me-time, full time. Maybe I will relearn classical guitar. I WILL spend more time with the people I love. I will breathe deep while I play with my potted plants and flowers this summer. Read more. Walk outside. Write. Travel. Dream.

I won’t leave my community. Look for me at the Y, on the bike path, at the store. But if you show me your kid’s rash in aisle 4 at Strack’s, I will hug you, wish only the best for you and your family, and gently tell you to contact their medical provider for advice.

What I might have been soon be next.