I wanted to run 6 miles today. I ran one.
I felt guilt on the treadmill. Awful, terrible, complex guilt at 1015am. I'd been awake since five AM. In that time, I pumped and produced about 12 ounces of milk, performed a surgery and I guess, run one mile.
My daughter, Maika, had been at daycare for about 2 1/2 hours and I didn't believe I deserved another half hour at the gym.

I know it's irrational, I know that in order to give and be a good wife, mother and doctor, I should feed myself first. Today, I can't do it. I pop off the treadmill, tell myself a few quick lies about how I will not eat carbs at dinner and run over to the daycare center a few blocks away. I take my daughter home.
I am not a bad person. I know this, in my core I know I am a good mother, an above average doctor and a warm, loving human. 
Being a working mom is impossibly hard. I want so desperately to be great at this. I want to be thin, fit, nurturing and incredibly quick-witted. Most days, I find myself with a muffin top, taking the elevator and falling asleep on the couch next to my husband. 
How does this work? Can I make organic baby food weekly for my daughter and still be a great surgeon, dutiful wife and skilled obstetrician...or does it all fall apart? Is it all or none...or just one of the above?