It's 11:35am, four years later. We're sitting at a nice Italian restaurant with my husband's classmates. It's fancy; my husband is in a tie, and my mom-in-law bought me a new dress. Everyone is a lovely combination of excited, nervous and sweaty. We make small talk. Girls ooh and ahh over Liam, and he flirts relentlessly. He has a thing for blond curled hair. This could be troublesome some day, but we are grateful that we brought Liam, as he is a good distraction for everyone.
11:45am. Last minute advice speech by one of the doctors. There's a lot of watch checking going on.
11:55am. Someone makes the announcement that the students should find their advisers to get their envelopes, then return to their seats.
11:57am. We are holding the envelope that tells us where we will spend the next three to seven to forever years of our life. We stare at the other people at our table, stare at the envelope, talk about what torture it is to still have to wait. Pose for pictures with our envelopes, because what the heck else are we going to do for the next three minutes?
11:59am. Wonder if the excuse "my baby opened my envelope" is good enough to hold up. Really, Liam would rather eat it. He tries.
11:59am and 50 seconds. A ten second countdown begins.
12:00pm. Envelopes tear. Letters are scanned to try to find the institution name (hey, NMRP, try making the hospital name a little bigger or in a bold font next time, ok?).
12:00pm and 2 seconds. Screams erupt around the room. Hugs are exchanged. Tears are shed. I did not think I would cry. Wrong. There was so much build up and emotions were crazy high.
They were happy tears. Very, very happy tears.
And then, just like that...
It was over.
We knew where we were going. My husband was placed in one of the top institutions for internal medicine. We are moving from our home, but we will be driving distance to family as opposed to flying distance. It's not North Carolina, but the weather should be negligibly better.
I literally could not be more proud of my husband. Four years of incredibly hard work and dedication, all boiling down to one single sheet of paper inside of an envelope. Countless hours of studying, of test taking, of procedure learning, of interviewing and of praying, all for this day.
It is surreal that it is over. We are so glad that we know!
|My husband is in every picture of the day. So I will awkwardly crop out his face and blur his name.|
|Obviously a momentous occasion: I baked.|