"You cannot have it all."
That's what this senior female faculty physician said to my colleague-friend, Tracey H., amidst the beeping IV pumps and background hustle bustle of the ICU one day. Tracey was a new medical faculty member at her institution struggling with what many of us struggle with: figuring out how to effectively love on your husband and seamlessly raise up your children all while simultaneously saving the world as a clinician-educator/clinician-investigator/clinician-leader. Oh, and figuring out how to do these things while being happy at the same time.
So that was the advice. It wasn't, "Girl, you can do this" or "Chile, you can do that." It was this simple truth, as mundane as it was cutting edge. "You cannot have it all."
That was the first time I'd heard someone say this. The second and only other time I heard these words hit me even harder than the first. I'd slipped into one of these "Women in Medicine" panel discussions at the ACP National Meeting a few years back, and this really wise looking woman grabbed the microphone sitting in front of her with her right hand to make sure we heard her clearly. A room full of earnest, young, early career female clinical faculty members sat with baited breath. We'd already heard that we needed to speak up for ourselves. That we should not be afraid to take on big tasks with the big boys. And to not fear a confrontation, but to always lace all interactions tightly with insurmountable poise and professionalism. This is how we'd get where they were. Chairpersons of Departments, Deans of Medical Schools, nationally recognized researchers and educators, well-respected Division Directors, and all-around bad-asses.
That's when this Jedi Master perched her scarlet reading glasses on the tip of her nose and tucked her graying hair behind her ears, cleared her throat and said,
"My advice? Work hard, and learn to be an effective leader. If you do that you can achieve anything. But know this: It comes at a cost. You cannot have it all. You cannot be on the vertical quest for Department Chair and make all of the soccer games at the same time. Something has to give. So, my advice? Decide what you want. And always know that the pinnacles of success in medicine comes at a personal cost--especially for women--so never trick yourself into thinking otherwise. Trust me, I know. You cannot have it all."
Wow. Everything I heard after that sounded like garbled background noise. I'd never seen or heard a woman care so little about saying what was popular as this senior faculty member. She broke it all the way down. Perhaps I felt so convicted by her statement because, like my friend Tracey H., I was juggling life with a husband and two small children with climbing up the clinician educator ladder. I'd often ask myself, "How can I possibly publish 4 papers per year, and teach, and write a book chapter without interrupting my family life? How? How can I reach my full potential professionally without feeling like a failure in my personal life, or vice versa?"
I'd never known even part of the answer until that day. This was the start of me achieving a new level of comfort in my personal and professional lives, all from five simple words.
"You cannot have it all."
Genius. Well, the truth is that many of the women there did not find it so genius. They made passive aggressive comments that negated what, in my opinion, had been the most profound thing I'd heard in a long time. They didn't like that word 'cannot.' But, me? I thought it was genius. Or as my friend, Tracey H., said about the woman who said the same thing to her that day in the ICU, "It was more than genius. It was dope." Yeah, dope.
They had these microphone stands in the aisles for people to get up and ask questions or make comments to the panelists. I think the majority of the women there had written off my new guru, directing all of their words to others on the panel. The ones who rah-rah-rahed and sis-boom-bahed them into believing that 36 hours could be jammed into 24, and that, forget what that eccentric old party-pooper said, you can so have it all. But me? I wasn't buying it. I stood squarely at the end of that line, inching my way up to the microphone to get more clarity on the gospel that had indeed reached me, if no one else.
"Hi. My name is Kimberly Manning and I'm an Assistant Professor in Atlanta, Georgia. My question is for Dr. (I still can't recall her name.)" She leaned into the mike again, her red readers still at the tip of her nose. "I was hoping you could give me more clarity on what you said. You said, 'You cannot have it all.' Does that mean not strive as hard? Say 'no' more often?"
She smiled and pulled the microphone down again. "Dr. Manning, thank you for your question," she started, "No. You should strive. But here's the thing: you have to redefine what it means to be successful. That is a very personal definition. For me, it is helping decorate my son's dorm room at Yale. Another time it's sitting here on this panel answering your question. Dr. Manning, the minute I realized that I could not have it all was the moment discovered that I'd had it all from the start."
"So in other words, you can have it all," I said, taking in every drop of her sage advice. I watched her carefully; I didn't want to miss a thing.
She raised one eyebrow and leaned her face into her propped up index finger. With a half-smile she continued, "You can have your all. Just not yours and everyone else's at the same time. Your all and someone else's all may be completely different. You got me?" I SO got you, Jedi Master.
This turned out to be one of the most memorable "Karate Kid/Mr. Miyagi moments" that I've ever had in my career. I felt like an enormous weight was lifted off of my shoulders. "I can have my all," I whispered to myself. "Just not everyone else's at the same time."
Me and kids enjoying the sunset on the Potomac, Independence Day 2010Today I am reflecting on what it means to have it all. Or better yet, what it means to have my all, and how I define success. My definition includes a deep and meaningful relationship with my husband, time to be physically and emotionally present to my children, family and friends, and professional growth that pushes me to my personal best but doesn't impinge upon the former two. This is my all. And now that I know what it is, I know that I can have it all indeed.
Glimpses of my all:
With Isaiah at the Georgia Aquarium 2008
With Isaiah at the Georgia Aquarium 2008
Isaiah, Christmas holidays 2009
Me and Zachary on the way to the Pentagon
Daddy and Harry with the boys, June 2010
Mommy with the boys, Mother's Day 2009
Harry and me, wedding anniversary May 1, 2010
Mommy and Zachy making Arthur character cookies
with my best friend, Lisa, May 2010 (expecting her first baby, yay!)
with nearly all of my student advisees (potluck at my place 2009) 
little sis/bff, Darlene, at Farmer's Market in L.A.Do you think a person can have it all?
What is your all?
