Hi Friend!
I believe that humanizing medicine and physicians is essential. Our patients and peers need to remember that we are real people.
Not robots on autopilot.
Well, maybe some physicians are, but that’s not me.
It never has been. Never will be.
“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1-12
It has been six months since I last delivered a baby. It has been about fourteen months since I made an unexpected announcement about my retirement from obstetrics. That decision was not easy, but it was the first step towards prioritizing my well-being and learning to set boundaries.
i bet you miss it.
Many people have asked about the transition and whether I miss the world of obstetrics.
The short answer is that I’m doing well, and no, I do not miss obstetrics.
I know that may sting to hear.
BUT.
I want to be very clear about something: Just because I don’t miss obstetrics does not mean it didn’t mean anything to me.
Quite the opposite.
It meant a great deal to me. It still does.
These moments, when our patients bring their babies to the clinic to say hello and look at the footprint wall, are not just routine visits. They are cherished reminders of the personal relationships we’ve built. The most challenging part of walking away from obstetrics was realizing that my patients would need other providers to complete their families.
Coming to terms with that has not been easy because I am selfish and don’t like to share my patients. The relationship between a woman and her OB should be a bond built on mutual love and respect, with a shared goal of a safe and healthy delivery. Fostering that relationship with each one of my patients has always been a priority.
That is the part of obstetrics I miss.
I never took for granted being present for the best and worst days of my patients’ lives.
I still think about my patients daily. I wonder how they and their families are doing. I miss them. I pray over them. My staff and I love getting to know our patients on a deeper, more personal level, and that will never change.
like a sponge.
I am an empathetic person and a natural ‘people pleaser’. I constantly try to read and interpret the emotions of the people I care about. Which, on the surface, doesn’t sound problematic, right? Where problems arise is when the feelings of others significantly affect me. Like an emotional sponge, I unconsciously absorb the emotions and energy of every person around me.
Ironically, my staff would likely tell you that it often feels like the opposite is true.
If someone is sick, it’s not uncommon for me to say, “You’re fine.”
The truth of the matter, though, is that when someone is ill or upset, it affects me deeply. It shuts me down and has a profound impact on my ability to function. I take it personally, as if there’s something I should have done to prevent the situation from happening.
Any situation.
Every situation.
As a people pleaser, I genuinely want everyone to be happy and healthy, so my coping mechanism defaults to telling my inner circle, “You’re fine,” rather than processing the emotions and understanding how they affect me.
This isn’t just limited to my work life, either. I do the same thing with my husband.
When he doesn’t feel well or has a rough day, I take it personally, internalize guilt and/or shame, and assume it’s my fault. Logically, I know it isn’t. Logically, I know it likely has absolutely nothing to do with me.
But it feels like it does.
Obviously, this isn’t fair to any of my staff or my husband. We are all allowed to have emotions and feel things. We should feel things. No one else should be worried about how their emotions will affect mine.
This has been a lifelong struggle, but I recognize it now, and I am a work in progress.
it’s all in the head.
So, why am I sharing this with you? That’s a good question.
I’m sharing this with you because it’s essential to understand this dynamic on a macro level, as I experienced it, and how it shaped where I am today.
At any given time, I had between 200 and 300 pregnant patients. My brain was in constant overdrive.
“Are they OK?”
“Did they have the birth experience they wanted?”
“Could I have done anything differently?”
“Did I meet their expectations?”
Couple that with the information overload involved in working with nursing staff, running between the clinic and hospital, responding to emergencies while not neglecting regular patient appointments, covering call, rounding, charting, and the innumerable fires that would inevitably pop up from day to day, it’s easy to see why my brain was perpetually on.
My anxiety was through the roof. At all times.
And not a hyperbolic, dramatic ‘all the time’, I literally mean, every moment of every day, thoughts raced through my head like they were on a teleprompter.
“Am I making everyone happy while still practicing good and safe medicine?”
“Did I explain things well enough?”
“Did I actively listen so my patient feels heard and cared for?”
“Have I shown enough appreciation for the hospital staff? For my staff?”
“Did I make the best decision?”
All while habitually sleep deprived and absent from my family.
Being a people pleaser means constantly saying yes to new patients.
Saying yes to coming in for deliveries when I wasn’t on call.
Responding to text messages any time of day or night, every day of the week.
Saying yes to anything and everything while persistently blurring the boundary between my personal and professional life.
Yet again, the irony is that these are some of the things that gave me excellent ratings and led people to rave about how kind and caring I am.
However, I never quite figured out how to be everything for everyone, all the time, while maintaining appropriate boundaries.
Emerging from the haze, I now know that I was never going to be able to do all those things.
Ever.
No matter how much I tried. Not because I wasn’t invested enough or wasn’t willing to do the hard stuff. But, because being everything for everyone, all the time, does not leave room for any boundaries. Period.
“Daring to set boundaries is about having the courage to love ourselves even when we risk disappointing others,” and I was never able to set boundaries successfully with obstetrics.
how could they?
One recent weekend, I ran into a family that means a great deal to me. Their delivery was part of the reason I decided to leave my call group, which eventually contributed to my decision to leave obstetrics altogether.
Visiting with them, I could tell they felt the weight of responsibility for my ensuing decisions about my OB practice. Reflecting on that interaction, I have realized what I want to share with them: I have no regrets about any of it.
I want them to know that I am thankful for what happened, how it happened, and why it happened.
Because it gave me the courage to walk away from toxic relationships.
It gave me the courage to walk away from a hospital system that I loved deeply, but never quite felt like it loved and appreciated me back.
I remember driving to Integris Baptist to visit a critically ill family member and receiving word that my privileges at my hospital were at risk of being revoked.
I remember making phone calls from the Baptist ICU waiting room, only to be met with every door slammed in my face.
How could they do this? To me?
This is the hospital where I gave birth to my son.
The hospital where my father-in-law died, just two weeks before everything unraveled, and I left my call group.
It hurt. Badly.
My name was repeatedly dragged through the mud, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I contemplated what it would look like to deliver at other hospitals. And, truth be told, part of me wanted to pack up my busy, thriving OB practice and move it to another hospital just to “show them.”
How dare they not recognize what I bring to the table?!
As the busiest obstetrician in Norman, with the highest delivery volume, I knew it would be financially detrimental to them. Maybe that would send a message about what they lost and force them to see my worth.
But, deep down, I knew that’s not what I wanted. I knew it was that bottled-up anger, confusion, frustration, and betrayal spilling out.
Deep down, I still want that hospital system to succeed, for the betterment of our community. Despite how much they hurt me.
where do i go from here?
I started thinking about my world and life without obstetrics.
What would it look like?
Could I do it?
Did I want to do it?
I cared deeply about my patients, but the stress had taken a toll on my body, my mind, my heart, and my family that I was just beginning to comprehend fully.
I tried, in vain, to set boundaries for myself. But time and time again, those boundaries were broken.
I eventually recognized that my passion is for helping people and not necessarily the act of delivering a baby, even though that is a sacred privilege. Obstetrics is a beautiful calling, but it’s also a broken one. One that continually takes and rarely gives back.
It’s draining.
Emotionally.
Mentally.
Psychologically.
Physically.
Spiritually.
It takes everything and then some.
I’ve always found it interesting that pilots have such strict duty hours for flying, but there are hardly any regulations governing the number of hours physicians work per week.
Is it any coincidence, then, that physicians have one of the highest rates of suicide?
No.
It can’t be.
As a small business owner, the thought of quitting obstetrics was terrifying. Obstetrics generated approximately 70% of my clinic’s revenue. I spent nights lying awake at all hours, praying that I was making the right decision, desperate for even a small glimpse into the future to reassure me that everything would work out as planned.
I’m proud to say, six months later, here I am.
Living the life for which I desperately prayed.
For anyone feeling stuck in a job because of its seemingly guaranteed financial security, yet sacrificing their well-being, I implore you to listen: take the leap of faith. Make the change. Get creative about how you can positively impact the world while also living a more balanced, healthy, and personally fulfilling life.
LESSONS AFTER LOSS.
2024 began with my family surrounding my father-in-law’s hospital bed, as we waited for Jesus to welcome him home. It was the last place we expected to be for the new year. He had been fine just two days earlier.
And now we were here.
I learned two important lessons that day.
First, live your life in such a way that there is zero regret when the end comes. Because it will come, whether we are prepared or not.
Second, prioritize and nurture the relationships with those who will surround your bed as they wait for you to meet Jesus. Those are the people who matter.
The day we buried my father-in-law was the day I told my husband I was leaving my call group. My husband has always been my biggest supporter and constant anchor. If I tell him I want to fly, he helps me build wings. And he has done all of this while living with Multiple Sclerosis for the last 11 years. Leaving obstetrics has given me more time to be his support and anchor, and for that, I am eternally grateful.
Our two beautiful children are growing up before our eyes. Time with them is something I treasure and will never take for granted. During 2024, my sweet 3-year-old boy never wanted me to tuck him in at night. He never wanted me to take care of him during middle-of-the-night wakeups, and I can count the number of bedtimes he let me participate in on one hand.
Now, it’s an even 50/50 with my husband. Now, my little man wants me, needs me, and calls for me. Even at 2 a.m., as I wipe the sleep from my eyes, it’s the best feeling in the world.
I get to be present.
I get to be mama.
Fully and consistently.
the last time, i was enough.
December 31, 2024, was the last time I delivered a baby. There was no fanfare. No recognition. No breakroom snacks or announcements. I received a single text from a nurse, which I appreciated more than she likely realized, but otherwise, nothing. Not a card or thank you from the people and the hospital that took so much from me and my family.
I delivered my last baby. Then I left.
That was it.
At the time, I was incredibly hurt by the lack of gratitude. The silence confounded me.
However, I’ve come to understand that I don’t need others’ appreciation to prove my value. I don’t need the card or the acknowledgement to validate my worth.
I have also come to understand that I don’t need to be endlessly busy, with a twelve-month appointment waiting list, to be enough.
I don’t need to be the ‘best doctor in Norman’ (although I will be forever grateful for that distinction, it no longer defines who I am) to be enough.
I don’t need to be everything for everyone, all the time, to be enough.
Being ME is enough.
Me with boundaries is enough.
It’s more than enough.
And what I can do to help others and leave a lasting impact on the world, while still being a present wife and mom, is enough.
Please hear me when I say that I am not sharing any of this to garner sympathy. I’m not fishing for compliments. I don’t want apologies. I’m not looking for retribution. I don’t want pats on the back. There is no villain in this story. I am not the only physician who has given every part of themselves to others, only to be left standing alone.
The system is broken.
It’s the dirty little secret that everyone knows, but few will acknowledge.
As physicians, we owe it to our patients, our staff, ourselves, and our families to take a long, honest look in the mirror. When we take the oath to Do No Harm, it needs to be on our own behalf as much as it is our patients’.
finding joy in the journey.
As I sat in church recently, I found myself daydreaming about 2026. I made a mental list of what I wanted to accomplish:
A family vacation.
A medical mission trip.
Volunteering at VBS.
Volunteering at church camp.
It was beautiful to imagine helping others, not only as ‘Dr. Farris’, but simply as ‘Ronni.’
The last six months have been wonderful. In the messiest, most exhausting, yet fulfilling and life-giving ways.
They have been healing.
And, to everyone’s surprise, mine included, they have been successful.
I will always cherish the 6.5 years I spent delivering babies.
I am grateful for the hardships because they refined me.
I am moving forward with clarity, peace, and a more profound sense of purpose.
The future is bright. And limitless.
So, to answer the question, do I miss obstetrics?
No. Not anymore.
P.S.
Life lately has been pretty dang sweet.
With Love,
Dr. Ronni Farris
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