I Realized Just How Far I’d Go Today

There are moments in life where you step back and think:

“This is either incredibly resourceful or completely insane.”

Today felt like one of those moments.

As many of you know, my husband is finishing up a six-month rotation at another hospital that’s about an hour away from where my daughter and I live.

The residency program provides him with temporary housing while he’s there, which is an incredible blessing because otherwise we simply couldn’t afford it.

The downside?

He needs our only car.

He needs it to get to the hospital.

He needs it for call.

He needs it to get home when he actually gets a chance to see us.

And because of that, most days I am completely carless.

Usually, it’s manageable.

Not ideal.

But manageable.

I’ve learned how to adapt.

I’ve become surprisingly good at calculating stroller storage space, figuring out what groceries can fit underneath a toddler seat, and deciding what absolutely must be purchased today versus what can wait another week.

When you’re trying to stretch every dollar, you get very creative.

Most days, I can walk to the grocery store.

Most days, I can make things work.

Today was not one of those days.

Today I needed to get my dog’s medication from the veterinarian.

Normally, this would be a five-minute drive.

Maybe less.

Instead, it became an eight-mile round trip.

On foot.

With a toddler strapped to my back.

And two giant dogs.

I wish I were exaggerating.

I left at 7:30 in the morning because I knew the heat would become unbearable later.

The forecast wasn’t awful, but summer has arrived, and anyone with giant fluffy dogs knows that heat becomes the enemy very quickly.

So we set out early.

My daughter happily rode along on my back.

The girls trotted beside me.

And off we went.

The funny thing is that our normal walk is already three to four miles.

So part of me thought this wasn’t that unreasonable.

The other part of me quickly realized I might have lost my mind.

Because getting to the vet wasn’t as simple as following a straight line.

I had to avoid the major roads.

There was absolutely no way I was walking alongside heavy traffic with my daughter strapped to me.

Maybe I’m overly cautious.

Maybe I’m not.

But the thought alone made my stomach turn.

So I started piecing together a route through side streets.

Neighborhoods.

Back roads.

Anywhere I could safely navigate with a toddler and two dogs.

At one point, we ended up walking through a construction zone.

And I have to admit, even I looked at myself and thought:

“This is ridiculous.”

There I was.

A toddler on my back.

Two giant dogs.

Construction workers.

Dump trucks.

Orange cones.

Dust everywhere.

People were kind.

Incredibly kind, actually.

But I couldn’t help wondering what they were thinking.

Was I inspiring?

Was I concerning?

Did I look determined?

Or did I look completely overwhelmed?

Maybe all of the above.

Eventually we found quieter roads.

Then a shortcut through a massive cemetery.

Which sounds morbid until you’re a mother trying to safely cross town with two dogs and a baby.

Then it feels like a gift.

The cemetery was peaceful.

Quiet.

Beautiful, even.

The girls slowed down.

My daughter pointed at birds.

And for a moment it didn’t feel like we were struggling.

It felt like an adventure.

The reason for all of this was simple.

One of my dogs desperately needed her medication.

She’s currently on a steroid to help control a severe inflammatory flare-up caused by allergies.

For weeks, she was scratching constantly.

The kind of scratching that keeps you awake at night because you know your dog is miserable.

The kind of scratching that breaks your heart because they can’t tell you what’s wrong.

Thankfully she’s finally finding relief.

But she couldn’t miss a dose.

So off we went.

Because sometimes motherhood isn’t just taking care of children.

It’s taking care of everyone.

The babies.

The dogs.

The house.

The bills.

The groceries.

The appointments.

The invisible labor nobody sees.

And today was one of those days where I felt every ounce of it.

By the time we got to the vet, everyone was tired.

By the time we got home, everyone was exhausted.

Especially me.

My daughter remained surprisingly cheerful through most of it.

The dogs gave everything they had.

And I honestly think all three of us collapsed when we got home.

The ridiculous part?

The entire reason I did this was to avoid a $30 shipping fee.

Thirty dollars.

If I had a car, I could have driven there and back in less time than it takes me to unload groceries.

But thirty dollars is thirty dollars.

And when you’re trying to make residency finances work.

When you’re paying off debt.

When you’re buying diapers.

When you’re raising a child.

When every dollar already has a purpose before it arrives in your bank account.

Thirty dollars matters.

So we walked.

Eight miles.

For medication.

And honestly?

I’d probably do it again.

Not because it was fun.

Not because it was easy.

But because that’s what this season of life has taught me.

You figure it out.

You adapt.

You become stronger than you realized.

And then you do it again tomorrow.

Before I end this, I just want to thank everyone who continues to read these pieces.

And especially those who have helped us recently.

The diapers.

The wipes.

The kind messages.

The encouragement.

It means more than you know.

There are days when I feel like I’m carrying the weight of our entire household.

And then a small act of kindness reminds me that maybe I’m not carrying it completely alone.

If you’ve purchased diapers or wipes for my daughter recently, thank you.

Truly.

And if you’re considering helping, please know it would mean more than I can properly express.

I’m doing everything I can.

Working multiple jobs from home.

Selling things on Poshmark.

Picking up side work whenever I can find it.

Trying to stretch every dollar until it practically begs for mercy.

We’re making it work.

We always do.

But kindness has a way of making the journey feel a little less heavy.

Today reminded me of that.

It also reminded me that apparently I will walk eight miles before I pay thirty dollars for shipping.
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UPDATED BIO:

Hi, I’m Fiona — a writer in the midst of an unexpected chapter.

In April 2024, I lost my job. Since then, my husband and I have been getting by on his modest income as a medical resident. After stepping away from IVF, we were shocked — and overjoyed — to find out we were pregnant naturally. While it was the happiest surprise, it also brought new financial stress as we prepared for our growing family.

Then, our baby arrived early — on April 29th, 2025, instead of the expected due date in late May. With no paid maternity leave and no room in our budget for childcare, I’ve returned to part-time jobs and writing just a week after giving birth to help cover essentials like groceries, bills, and a few things for our 🌈 miracle baby.

If you’d like to support my writing — and by extension, our little family — your kindness would mean the world. Every bit helps: $1, $2, whatever you can give.

💸 Donate here — Venmo

🍼 Baby Registry — Or if you’d prefer to help more directly, we’re also gratefully accepting support through our baby registry — every burp cloth, diaper and/or bottle goes a long way.

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