He comes home excited, hugs all the children, plays with the baby, then lies down with me for a few moments of uninterrupted silence. To most people, four children aren't considered "silent," but compared with the clamor of a busy hospital, they are. He soaks up the noises of our house like other people soak up the rays of the sun. And we exchange the happenings of our day.
My husband is a physician, a resident who sometimes works 90 hours a week. Yet he is a husband and father first. I often listen to the spouses of other physicians complain of their mates who study behind closed doors or go straight to sleep on their arrival home. In our home my husband opens all the doors, as the family gathers to present the experiences of the day. It is wonderfully obvious that the people in his life—his family and