SPECIAL FEATURE

May-2026 1 Expression

The (im)perfect doctor mom

Behind the white coat lies a very real home life

Dr. Femitha Pournami

At the risk of sounding self-congratulatory, I must say that thriving as an intensivist in India is no small feat. Late nights, long hours, staying abreast of advances in medicine, counseling distressed families, managing administrative crises, and balancing our own responsibilities are all part of the daily routine.

Amid these duties, which cannot be overlooked even for an instant, we must also consider clinical research and teaching as essential responsibilities. Being part of a teaching unit often has a positive effect on work ethics, patient outcomes, and professional satisfaction. We hope that when a “teacher” leads by example, we help mold the next generation of clinicians and teachers. After all, practice, teaching to learn, and engaging in research are the three pillars that support doctors who desire to do their best.

On the flipside, intensivists are human too. Let me share a few honest confessions from the home of a middle-aged mother of two and full-time neonatal intensivist.

So here goes.: I am not ashamed to admit that:

1. I am vexed by house guests who overstay

Guests have no idea about the delicate balance that keeps my routine going. The thought of having to whip up a presentable, conventional breakfast instead of cold milk and cereal, keeping the house orderly long enough, planning for tea-time snacks, and bringing out matching crockery is enough to make me dizzy.

My own family eats when hungry, orders takeout often, and has probably not seen four matching dinner plates on the table in years. I trust you get my drift.

2. My kitchen sink is always full of dirty dishes

Where do they all come from? One omelet results in at least one dirty fork, one mixing bowl, one pan, and one spatula _ all of which need cleaning. And do not get me started on a cup of tea, or a simple meal of rice and dal.

But yes, I do cook for my family, and that will inevitably result in a delicately balanced, precariously leaning tower of soiled vessels in the sink. Judge me all you want, I could not care less.

3. Our furniture is covered with dust and grime

Damp-dusting and daily mopping do not feature on my daily _ or even weekly _ chore chart. You could trace your name on my coffee table as if it were a car parked for ages by a dusty roadside.

My mother would have been horrified. She spent much of her short life polishing every corner of the beautiful home I grew up in. Even the window grills gleamed. I may not have noticed it then, but I certainly heard guests complimenting her homemaking skills.

When she was terminally ill, one of the wisest things she told me was: “Molu, let the dust sit there. Do something more meaningful with your time. Make a difference on a larger scale. A spotless house can sometimes be a sign of wasted time.”

Those words have stayed with me.

4. I sigh in relief when my 20-year-old son decides to eat out with his friends.

He is a fitness freak who wants a precise amount of protein in his diet that is also tasty, low in fats, and low in carbs. He returns home from hostel once every 3 or 4 months, and the house is promptly swamped by his friends.

My heart swells with pride at his popularity, and I love his friends—but my joy ends there. I am neither willing nor able to prepare grilled chicken with quinoa salad and gluten-free bread in industrial quantities.

My heart swells with pride at his popularity, and I love his friends—but my joy ends there. I am not willing to, and much less capable of cooking up grilled chicken with quinoa salad and gluten-free baked bread in large portions.

I would much rather transfer him some money and let him treat his friends to whatever they want. I am entirely unapologetic about not being the mother who delights in watching her son relish home-cooked meals. As for festivals, I’d rather be on night duty than make biriyani and payasam.

5. My home carries a constant faint fragrance of ….cat pee

The odor hits you when you cross the front door and lingers until either your olfactory receptors surrender or your senses adapt. I have tried every trick in the book and on YouTube to eliminate this delicate perfume from our drapes and couch cushions, with only partial success.

That is the price one pays for having a pet around. Do I regret adopting Googa? No, not at all. A loving home with an elderly bedridden grandparent or a toddler would have that odor, too, right?

6. My 8-year-old spends several hours on her device

I try to play with her, act goofy, go on small outings, and organize play dates, but that does not occupy all her time. When I have no better alternative to offer, am I justified in restricting screen time or scolding her growing dependence on devices?

I take comfort in my father’s reassuring words: “You are doing your best. No one is perfect.”

I certainly am not. So, to all the doctor mothers—and fathers—out there: do not feel guilty if any of this sounds familiar.

And to everyone else who sees only the polished exterior of an intensivist seemingly in control of every aspect of life — well, now you know better.

[Dr. Femitha Pournami is a senior consultant and academic coordinator, Department of Neonatology, KIMSHEALTH, Trivandrum.]

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