Becoming a mother of two daughters born just eleven months apart, my Irish twins, taught me what selflessness truly means. Overnight, my world shifted from my own needs to theirs. When one baby cried, the other stirred. When exhaustion hit, love pushed me forward. I learned to give even when I had nothing left to give, to nurture, to sacrifice, and to keep showing up with tenderness when all I wanted was sleep. That season of life redefined who I was. It did not just make me a mother; it made me selfless. That same instinct to comfort, protect, and serve is what drives me as a nurse. I have seen how a calm voice and steady presence can transform fear into peace. I once cared for a stroke patient who had no family to visit him. Every night before I left, I made sure his water, Bible, and call light were within reach. It was not part of my job description, but it mattered. Dignity, kindness, and small acts of compassion are often the most healing medicine we can give. Beyond the hospital, I have carried that same heart into my community. I organized donation drives for women’s shelters, gathering hygiene products and baby supplies for mothers starting over with nothing. I stayed late helping them fill out insurance forms, find pediatricians, and navigate systems that can feel impossible when you are scared and alone. I recognized their exhaustion because I had lived it, and I wanted them to know they were not forgotten. Being a mom of two under one taught me how to lead with empathy, patience, and strength under pressure. Those lessons mirror everything nursing requires. I have studied after midnight with one baby on my lap and another tugging at my scrubs. I have shown up to clinicals on two hours of sleep because giving up was never an option. Selflessness became not just something I did, but who I am. These experiences have shaped my purpose. I do not just want to be a nurse who treats illness; I want to be the nurse who restores hope. My goal is to specialize in critical care, where compassion and precision meet, and where every moment, every decision, and every human connection matters. For me, as a mother, going back to school for my girls is the greatest act of selflessness I can offer. I am not doing it for recognition or a title. I am doing it to build a better future for them. I want to show my daughters that strength and compassion can coexist, that perseverance has purpose, and that the most powerful way to care for others is to never stop growing yourself. Selflessness is not a single act. It is a way of life. It is what drives me to keep learning, keep caring, and keep showing up for my patients, my daughters, and myself. Because in every person I care for, I see the same truth reflected back: real strength is found in serving others.

When I was thirteen, my little brother, Chance, was born with a rare condition called arthrogryposis multiplex congenita. His joints were stiff, his muscles were weak, and from the moment he arrived, hospitals became a second home for our family. I watched my mom learn how to advocate for him, and I watched nurses care for him in ways that went far beyond medicine. They were calm when my family was scared, they explained things we didn’t understand, and they treated Chance with a kind of compassion that made sterile hospital rooms feel safe. That experience changed how I saw the world—and it planted a seed in me that never went away. From a young age, I learned the value of patience, empathy, and advocacy. I saw how small acts of kindness could change someone’s entire outlook on a hard day. Those nurses didn’t just care for my brother—they cared for our family. I realized that real healing isn’t just physical; it’s emotional too. That realization shaped the values I carry today. I believe deeply in compassion, respect, and human connection. Those experiences with Chance are what made me passionate about health and wellness, because I’ve seen firsthand how powerful genuine care can be. After high school, I began my journey as a Licensed Vocational Nurse. Working at the bedside has been humbling and transformative. I’ve cared for patients in pain, comforted families through loss, and celebrated small victories—like a patient taking their first steps after surgery or finally getting a good night’s sleep. Every shift reminds me why I chose this field: because nursing is about humanity. It’s about being present when life feels overwhelming and providing reassurance when someone needs it most. Nursing isn’t just a job—it’s a commitment to show up, even on the hard days, with compassion and purpose. Now, as I work toward becoming a Registered Nurse, I see how much more I can offer my patients with advanced education and training. My time as an LVN has given me perspective and humility. I’ve learned to listen before I act, to lead with empathy, and to balance compassion with clinical judgment. The RN role will allow me to advocate for patients on a larger scale—not just in individual care moments, but through education and collaboration that improve outcomes for entire families and communities. To me, empathy is the foundation of nursing. It means seeing beyond a chart or diagnosis and recognizing the person behind it. Empathy is listening when a patient says they’re scared, understanding what that fear feels like, and responding in a way that builds trust. When patients feel seen and heard, they’re more likely to communicate openly and participate in their own recovery. Empathy is what transforms routine care into meaningful care. Practicing through a human-centered lens means remembering that the people we care for aren’t just patients—they’re parents, children, siblings, and friends. I make it a point to slow down, make eye contact, and call people by name. Even when time is short, I believe those small gestures show patients that they matter. Being a mother has deepened my perspective on empathy. Having children of my own has taught me patience, adaptability, and a different kind of strength. It’s reminded me that every patient I meet is someone’s loved one—and that each family carries their own worries and hopes. When I comfort a patient or reassure a parent, I think back to the nurses who once comforted my mother. That memory guides how I show up for others. Nursing is more than a profession; it’s a way of life grounded in empathy, advocacy, and service. Every day, I strive to live up to the example of the nurses who cared for my brother. They showed me that medicine may treat the body, but empathy heals the soul. Chance’s journey taught me what true care looks like—and my career in nursing is my way of continuing that legacy. Through every patient I care for and every family I meet, I hope to pass on the same compassion that once changed my own family’s life.

When I was thirteen, my family’s world changed forever. My little brother, Chance, was born with a rare condition called arthrogryposis multiplex congenita. His joints were stiff, his muscles were weak, and from the moment he arrived, hospitals became a second home for us. I watched my mom learn how to advocate for him, and I watched nurses care for him in ways that went far beyond medicine. They were calm when my family was scared, they explained things we didn’t understand, and they treated Chance with a kind of compassion that made the sterile hospital rooms feel safe. That experience planted a seed in me that never went away. As I grew older, I realized I wanted to be that person for someone else—the person who brings comfort during chaos and turns fear into understanding. Nursing wasn’t just a career choice for me; it felt like a calling that started the day I first saw a nurse gently adjust my brother’s IV while explaining each step to my worried mother. It was the kind of quiet strength that left a lasting impression. After high school, I decided to start my journey as a Licensed Vocational Nurse. Working at the bedside has shown me both the beauty and the weight of this profession. I’ve cared for patients in pain, comforted families through loss, and celebrated small victories that most people might overlook—like a patient sitting up after surgery or taking their first meal again. Every shift reminds me why I chose this field: because nursing is human. It’s messy, emotional, exhausting, and yet it’s one of the most meaningful things I can imagine doing. Now, as I work toward becoming a Registered Nurse, I see how much more I can do for my patients with a deeper education and stronger clinical foundation. My time as an LVN has given me perspective and humility. I’ve learned to listen, to lead with empathy, and to find balance between compassion and critical thinking. The RN role will allow me to expand my skills and advocate on a larger scale—not just for individual patients, but for their families and communities too. I’m also a mother now, and that role has added another layer to my passion for nursing. Being a mom has taught me patience, adaptability, and a different kind of strength. It’s reminded me that every patient is someone’s child, someone’s parent, or someone’s sibling. When I hold a patient’s hand or comfort a worried family, I think about my own family and the nurses who once did the same for us. Nursing is more than a job to me—it’s a way to give back what was once given to my brother and my family. It’s about using knowledge and compassion together to make a difference, one patient at a time. Chance’s journey showed me what true care looks like, and every day since, I’ve tried to live up to the example those nurses set for us all.

When my little brother Chance was born, I was thirteen years old — old enough to understand that something was different, but too young to fully grasp what “arthrogryposis multiplex congenita” meant. What I did understand was that my baby brother would spend his early life in and out of hospitals, surrounded by nurses who seemed to move mountains with their calm confidence and gentle hands. Watching them care for him — and teach our family how to care for him — was the first time I realized what true compassion and purpose looked like. Chance’s condition meant his joints were stiff and his mobility was limited. There were casts, braces, therapy appointments, and endless doctor visits. But through it all, I remember the nurses most — the ones who made him smile through the pain, who explained things to me in a way I could understand, and who treated our family as if we were their own. Their kindness left a mark on me that never faded. I didn’t know it then, but those experiences were planting the seeds for the nurse I would one day become. As I grew older, that early exposure to healthcare turned into curiosity, and then into determination. I became a Licensed Vocational Nurse and began my journey caring for others the way those nurses cared for Chance. Every patient I’ve met since has reminded me of him in some way — the resilience, the fear, the hope. Nursing allows me to meet people at their most vulnerable and give them the reassurance and support that once meant the world to my family. Now, as a mother myself and a student in the LVN-to-ADN program at Lamar State College–Port Arthur, I see nursing through an even deeper lens. Balancing motherhood, work, and school has not been easy, but it’s strengthened my compassion, patience, and grit — the same qualities I saw in the nurses who once cared for my brother. My daughters have watched me chase this dream while caring for others, and I hope they grow up knowing that perseverance and empathy can change lives. My goal as a future Registered Nurse is to work in maternal and neonatal care, supporting families the way nurses supported mine. I want to be the steady presence in a family’s most uncertain moment — the voice that says, “You’re not alone, and we’ll get through this together.” Every experience in my life — from Chance’s diagnosis to my years as an LVN to becoming a mom — has shaped my understanding of what it truly means to care. Nursing isn’t just a profession for me; it’s a calling born from love, experience, and the desire to give back what was once given to my family. This scholarship will help me continue that journey and grow into the kind of nurse who changes lives — one patient, one family, and one moment at a time.