itchy

Being diagnosed with post-partum depression is a lot like being told you have head lice.

Even though you know it's common and treatable, it's still pretty embarrassing, and you wouldn't be in this position if you didn't have a kid.

That said, it's also a relief.

It's nice to know that you're not just an incompetent mother. Or that your feelings of failure are pathologically disproportionate. It's nice to know that feeling out of sync with all the other mothers at Baby Time isn't just your personality.

Of course, much like head lice, acknowledging the problem is only the first step. Now we get out the medicated shampoo, the gloves and the teeny tiny comb, and start working the problem out. With time, you'll be able to show your face in public again, confident that you're going to be ok.

Bring on the permethrin.

whoopsadaisy

My post-secondary education has been a meandering journey. It's taken 14 in 8 different cities across two continents. You would think that somewhere in that time, I would have had a real job interview. Nope.

The last time I sat in front of someone and answered questions about my "greatest weakness" and "communication skills", I ended up wearing a green apron and making extra-hot lattes for Gordon Campbell. It's been a while.

The medical interview should, theoretically, be a highly structured process. I envisioned walking into a room with a long table, 2-3 suit-clad members of the team facing me. They ask me about my experience with critically ill patients. They ask me how I feel about the latest BMJ on tranexamic acid in trauma. They ask if I've ever sexually harassed the nurses, or how I would handle interpersonal conflict.

In reality, my phone rings at 10am. I am still in bed, in pajamas, feeding Bub. She's latched on and I'm fumbling to answer the phone without dislodging her, which would result in screaming.

I answer the unidentified number and the friendly voice on the other end says, "I know you were going to call tomorrow, but I'm going on vacation and wanted to make sure we caught you - what do you want to know about our ER?"

The chief of this community hospital is excited and engaging, promising me solid billings and access to a CT scanner overnight (luxury!) plus a good relationship with nursing staff and "tons of support during the early days".

At the end of his spiel, I say, "It sounds great - I'd love to apply for the position..."
He says, "Oh, ok. Send me your references - if there are no surprises we'll get your paperwork started!"

Just like that?
Just like that.

Now I'm nervous. Was it too easy? Am I missing something?

The larger sister hospital to this one has also asked me to come in for a tour and "chat" where they would suss me out. Do I wear my interview suit? Can I bring the baby? Is this an assessment of my suitability or are they trying to sell me on the joint?

Despite all the education, all the planning and all possible signs pointing towards this day, I am still in shock.

I think I have a job.