Lately, I've been thinking about what "motherhood" is. The one thing I've confirmed is that it's a lifetime commitment. Motherhood is wonderful and painful. It starts with perhaps the joy or fear that came with becoming pregnant. Maybe, you weren't ready to be a mother or terrified that you wouldn't be able to provide. Perhaps you're so full of joy; a baby is something you've wanted for a long time maybe even undergoing IVF treatments. For me, it was not a joyous occasion. I was a teenager when I became a mother and it was terrifying. Endless questions ran through my mind. Will I be a good mother? How can I provide for my son? How will I know what to do when he's hurt? Although a novice at this whole parenting thing, who isn't? I'm lucky to be a mother of a wonderfully caring, compassionate, funny, intelligent boy. But being a mother means sacrificing a lot for your children. I had always wanted to become a doctor, but it felt impossible to pursue as a single mother. The cost of school while raising a child felt impossible. Let's not forget the school load would be so overwhelming that I feared I would miss many of my son's "firsts." I decided not to pursue healthcare. Now as my child is more independent as he gets older I wish to pursue my goal of working in healthcare. I want to get my nursing degree and eventually become a nurse practitioner. I have always felt a deep passion for medicine and a strong appreciation for the work healthcare professionals do. As a frequently sick child, I felt seen and heard during every hospital visit, and even my mother—who hadn’t studied beyond the sixth grade—was treated with respect by providers who took her concerns seriously. Although my mother was treated with compassion and respectful care I've come to realize that not everyone receives the care they deserve. A close friend of mine, who has been actively advocating for her health, has often felt dismissed by her providers. These experiences shaped my desire to pursue a career in healthcare, where I can offer the same compassionate and respectful care to others, especially to mothers from diverse backgrounds. The longest conversations I’ve had have been with nurses who took the time to talk to me, listen, and reassure me. I vividly remember a visit to urgent care when I felt like a terrible mother because I hadn’t noticed my son's 102-degree fever. But the nurse didn’t judge me—she reassured me that I was doing the right thing by being there and seeking help. It’s those small moments of empathy that stay with me and it’s the kind of care I hope to provide. These experiences have shaped my understanding of what compassionate inclusive healthcare should look like. I want to be the kind of provider who not only treats symptoms but also listens, validates, and empowers patients.

It was the summer, and I was 17 years old. I was working at a corner store when a customer came in. I had known this woman for about two years working at this little bodega, we talked and she asked me if I had plans to go to college. I had just had my son last year barely a year old. I said, “Yes but I’m not sure where to go. I really can’t go too far since I have to take care of my baby.” She then said something that shocked and upset me. “Well, this wouldn’t be such a hard decision if hadn’t opened your legs.” I was stunned, what could I even say? A knot formed in the back of my throat and tears formed in the corner of my eyes I managed to croak out a meek and low, “Yeah.” My mother who worked in the same corner store overheard our conversation. She yelled at that lady. I remember the words like it was just yesterday, and whenever I wish to cower they ring in my ear so loudly it's like she yelled them in my ear. “My daughter can do anything! She will go to school and she can study anything she wants. Just because she had her baby doesn't mean he's a roadblock. He is not a burden but a blessing." She then turned to me and said, “Don’t you ever let anyone disrespect you or your son like that. If you can’t defend him who will?” My mother was right that encounter struck me. It made me work harder and become more tenacious although at times I've had to put my goals on the sidelines to ensure my son has enough. Still, I've always wanted to work in healthcare and provide adequate and compassionate care. It's always been important to me to provide services and support my community. I thought that my dreams of becoming a doctor were impossible the cost became demoralizing. I made myself sick thinking about how I would make it work. I gave up on that dream and worked on finding other ways to help my community. After all these years, the yearning and wanting are still inside. The embers lie beneath the surface becoming aflame when I go to a doctor's visit or take my son to his check-ups. Working in a not-for-profit organization showed me that we have a severe need for healthcare providers, specialists, and dentists including pediatric and prenatal providers. I wish to return to school and get my nursing degree to become a registered nurse. Eventually, I hope to become a nurse practitioner specializing in women’s health. Becoming a registered nurse will help me finally achieve my dreams. Working as a nurse will give me flexible hours as the hours I work and the pay I receive is inadequate to raise my son the way I wish I could raise him. I wish he could experience the same things his friends can and unfortunately, because of our economic standing, he can't. Going back to school will demonstrate to my son that to achieve your dreams one must have perseverance, courage, tenacity, and initiative to work towards your goals. Regardless of time, it can still be possible to achieve your goals.