I’ve been traveling for a week. Please forgive the silences here. As you can imagine, I’ve been making lots of noise elsewhere. Since I left my little boys and husband early morning last Friday, I’ve been at the AAP national meeting in Boston where I met with many friends and peers, gave a talk at a big conference at Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN, had the honor to participate in the Mayo Clinic Center For Social Media board meeting, and today I’m speaking about immunizations at the Minnesota Dept of Health’s Got Your Shots conference in Minneapolis. All very exciting and this work and time feels productive on many levels but the leave-taking last Friday left me gutted.

O had been up all Thursday night last week vomiting and we spent the night in the frenzy of clean-up (how many back-up sheets do you have?) and comforting. As the sun rose, I knew I was leaving them for the longest stretch ever. I vividly remember the sound of the car door closing just as I drove away and it wasn’t until about North Dakota, mid-flight, that the ridiculous ache (heart) and nausea associated with leaving started to regress. It’s been busy since I left. The work serves as a very good distraction. But like many of you have heard, I often feel like I’m missing a limb or two when I’m away from my boys.

It was last night when I knew I needed to head home. The Husband mentioned that F had proclaimed it made no sense to travel to the farm (that we usually do) to get a pumpkin when he could simply get one at the grocery store. Clearly logical for a near 5 year-old. But the reason I knew it was time to head home was that my husband agreed.

I’m honored to work and entirely blessed to share my stories and my ideas about working as a pediatrician and writer and working to change health care. But it will never ever take away the role I cherish and hold most dear. That is, my commitment and love for my children and my family. The busier I get, the more clarity I hold. As I speak about striving for balance and making sense of the different hats we wear and batons we pass in our lives as parents and clinicians and children and community members, I must say that never once while away did I worry that I don’t understand priorities. The boys thrive as I do because I am surrounded by committed family and friends who share a similar vision. And they love and hold and care for the boys beautifully while I’m away. As I woke this morning across the street from The Mayo Clinic, what I knew was this: I can’t wait to get home to see those boys and travel to that farm for a beautiful pumpkin, but I really am thrilled to be here in Minnesota and just so happy to help.