Wicked_tuba. As a seventh grader, that was my most clever idea for my brand new email address. Wicked, because I had just seen Wicked on Broadway in Chicago and I was absolutely obsessed, and tuba because I had just started playing the tuba. I have loved Wicked since the first time I heard the first track of the CD. (It was 2007.) If you couldn't already tell, I was a really awkward middle schooler. I was the girl who played the tuba, always had her nose in a book, and only wore baggy shirts and capri pants and purple crocs that were three sizes too big. I was not good at making friends, and I was not good at keeping friends. Wicked was a connection point for me. One of my only consistent friends was also Wicked-obsessed (they still are), and Wicked was something I knew how to talk about. I knew how to connect with them over the injustice of the plight of the talking animals, the enemies-to-friends progression of Glinda and Elphaba, and the depth of friendship and emotion in For Good. In seventh grade, you don't realize that your "BFF" is probably not going to actually be your best friend forever. As we grew up, I got (slightly) less awkward and made a couple new friends, they got into extracurriculars and made other friends, and we grew apart. Almost twenty years later, we each found that life had brought us to living in the same city. I'm flying solo and free; they trusted their instincts, closed their eyes, and leapt into a beautiful life with the love of their life. We've connected again, and it feels both like stepping back into a familiar rhythm and also meeting them for the first time. Adult Brittany is much different from middle-school Brittany. They, likewise, are a different person than they were in middle school. We've become new friends, and it's been amazing. I feel fortunate that we were able to meet again in this lifetime, because so much of me is made from what I learned from them. Wicked has changed me — for good.

"Did I hurt my baby?" Through translation, I found out that this Nepali grandmother was asking about her child with a disability. When she was pregnant with her son, she had still been breastfeeding her toddler daughter. When the boy was born, they knew there was something that wasn't right. His face showed the characteristics of Down syndrome. Living in rural Nepal, she turned to the older generation’s wisdom to navigate every aspect of life and relied on her elders’ counsel now. She did her best in raising her son, but as she saw the other children reach milestones that her son was not reaching, she wondered why her son had been born different. She concluded it was her fault — that if she hadn’t breastfed during pregnancy, her child would have been born ‘normal.' She spent 40 years carrying that guilt. Tears ran freely as I explained that she didn't do anything wrong. Her baby had an extra chromosome, which is something that he had from the moment that he started growing inside her. She hadn't hurt him by nursing her toddler when she was pregnant. This was one of many moments where I realized that health education can change lives. First as a birth attendant, now as a midwifery student, and soon as a Certified Professional Midwife, I value the empowerment that comes when women are given information and education about their bodies and their health. I have trained under community midwives in Uganda, India, Nepal, and Cambodia, delivering babies in small rural clinics and large government hospitals. My passion is to see women in low-resource areas of the world get comprehensive high-quality prenatal, birth, and postpartum care, because I believe that when the women of a community thrive, the whole community is strengthened. It is that passion that has shaped my education and career goals. After becoming a Certified Professional Midwife, I plan to serve in the U.S. for several years before applying to join Doctors Without Borders overseas. As a midwifery student, I am on call to attend births 24/7. With the exception of attending class, I am always ready to drop everything and go to a birth. While this calling is deeply fulfilling, the unpredictable schedule and demands of on-call life make it financially challenging to stay in school. With this scholarship, I will be better equipped to continue serving women during one of life’s most vulnerable and powerful moments — birth — and to bring compassionate, evidence-based care to communities that need it most. Thank you for reading my application.