Sunday, May 19, 2013
I started my master's degree four years ago.
In that time:
I got engaged,
planned a wedding,
learned how to be married,
moved to another state,
applied to finish my degree at a new university,
became a landlord,
lived at four different addresses,
worked full time,
had a husband also in grad school,
had a baby,
pumped on class breaks,
learned to be a parent to a toddler,
found a new part-time job and two freelance jobs working more hours than before,
got pregnant again,
had a miscarriage,
I am officially done with attending night classes, cramming in reading and paper-writing during nap time and trying to convince myself that it's all worth it. That's at least 10-12 hours of my life back each week.
There was a semester when Shea and I met in the parking lot to switch baby duty between my class and his. The semester Henry was born I had an iron infusion in the afternoon and a class in the evening. This last semester was a blur of juggling Shea's travel and babysitters.
I will use my degree eventually I'm sure.
For me, though, the skills of juggling real adult life and attending class in person is what made me tear up as we processed across campus behind bagpipes.
But now I am done. DONE!