The winter sunset cast a dim, golden glow through the rain-streaked windows, creating a quiet contrast against the cold outside. I held my youngest cousin in my arms, feeling like a superhero if superheroes wore mismatched socks and had tiny hands tugging at their shirts. There she was, her little hand reaching up to rub my chest, a comforting habit that’s become our little routine. It’s her way of reassuring herself that I’m within reach, and I like to think it’s her way of saying, “You’ve got this, big cousin,” while also signaling it’s snack time. At 18 months old, she’s in full exploration mode. I’m learning new things every day, like how crayons end up on the walls, tables, and occasionally the dog. Her meals are an adventure, especially when rice ends up all over her face, and half of it mysteriously disappears into her hair. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s “accidentally” ripped up my homework, all while grinning like she knows exactly what she’s doing. But no matter the mess, it’s hard not to laugh when she suddenly bursts into song, her favorite being “Mẹ ơi có biết, con thương mẹ nhiều…” a traditional Vietnamese lullaby. She sings it at the top of her lungs, twirling around with all the grace of a windmill, as if the world is her stage. Her energy is contagious, especially when she screams with excitement, then flashes a smile that could light up an entire room. When she looks at me with those big eyes, it feels like the whole universe is reflected in them, as if she’s trying to say, “Chị Hai ơi , em thương chị Hai”, which means “Hey big sis, I love you”. Through all the chaos, whether it’s diaper changes that end with me covered in baby powder or her dance performances involving kitchen chairs and my bed, I’ve learned so much about patience, care, and nurturing. I’ve picked up the basics of pediatric care, managing first aid and learning the importance of keeping up with vaccinations and healthy routines. Despite the mess, I wouldn’t trade these moments for anything, because they’ve strengthened my desire to care for others, especially vulnerable babies who need that same sense of security and love. At Oklahoma City University’s Kramer School of Nursing, I’m excited to dive into pediatric care, where I’ll not only learn advanced nursing techniques but also get hands-on experience with the latest medical technology. The way the BSN program at OCU is set up: two years of college followed by two years of focused nursing courses will give me more time to gain real-world experience through internships and clinical placements. This structure is a huge benefit because it means I’ll have plenty of opportunities to apply what I learn in the classroom to actual patient care. I’m looking forward to working with a diverse range of patients, and I know these experiences will help me grow both as a nurse and as a person. I can’t wait to learn from the dedicated professionals at OCU, whose guidance will shape the way I care for patients. With this strong foundation, I’m confident I’ll be well on my way to becoming a pediatric nurse practitioner, ready to make a difference in the lives of children and their families. My ultimate goal is to specialize in neonatal care, providing vulnerable babies and their mothers with the care and comfort they need.

“My dearest daughter, you are the miracle of countless prayers.” I grew up in Vietnam surrounded by a culture that deeply cherishes family and caregiving. Yet, despite being raised in an environment filled with love and devotion, I never fully understood what it meant to be a miracle in a mother’s eyes. Everyone in my family says I was a blessing because I was born against all odds. But it wasn’t until later that I truly grasped the weight of those words. During my mother’s pregnancy, a massive tumor grew in her uterus, threatening both our lives. It was so large it nearly consumed the space meant for me, and doctors feared it would crush me before I took my first breath. The choice seemed inevitable: one life had to be sacrificed for the other. But in that hopelessness, one doctor stepped forward, not with a choice, but with a promise: “I could save both.” The day of the surgery arrived, a day that would decide both of our fates. My mother sat in the labor ward, whispering prayers. She was terrified yet unwavering. She refused anesthesia or any desensitization, afraid it might harm me, choosing instead to endure the pain for hours. One hour passed. Then two. Then three. The room was filled with hurried footsteps, the steady beeping of monitors, and the hushed voices of surgeons working against time. The tumor had wrapped around the space where I grew, threatening to take me with it. Every incision was a battle, every moment a test of whether we would both make it through. After what felt like eternity, the doors opened. Miracles happened, the surgery was successful. The tumor has been removed. Mom and baby both survived. I had survived. However, the consequences of the surgery were that she cannot give birth as vaginal like other moms, instead, a C-section was required, as the contractions of her uterus would have torn the incision made during the tumor removal surgery. Again, she refused to use any desensitization. It was a delicate procedure, but it was the only way to ensure my safe arrival. After all the struggles, countless prayers and sacrifices, I was born beautiful and healthy. I came into the world as a symbol of hope and resilience, a miracle in my mother’s eyes. Fifteen years later, I am now studying abroad in the US and living with my four younger cousins. I was constantly reminded of the miracle of birth, knowing that each child is a treasure to their parents. I love them deeply, seeing them as my own siblings. Despite dirty diapers or messy clothes, I embraced the responsibility with dedication, gaining valuable pediatric skills in toddler care, first aid, and understanding healthcare needs, becoming confident in the childcare. Through these experiences, I developed practical knowledge and deepened my appreciation for motherhood. In the womb, a tiny being is carefully formed, heartbeat by heartbeat, as if the universe stitches together a masterpiece. It is where miracles unfold in silence, where the soul takes its first breath, and life begins full of infinite possibilities. The women in my family, whose strength and sacrifices shaped me, have always nurtured life with unmatched devotion. All children in my life are not just the future, but a testament to that legacy. With their hopes placed in caregivers, I am pursuing a BSN with a focus on pediatrics, committed to offering the care every child deserves. As a future pediatric nurse, I aim to honor the strength of women and the boundless potential of every child.

“My dearest daughter, you are the miracle of countless prayers.” For the first 15 years of my life, I grew up in Vietnam surrounded by a culture that deeply cherishes family and caregiving. Yet, despite being raised in an environment filled with love and devotion, I never fully understood what it meant to be a miracle in a mother’s eyes. Everyone in my family says I was a blessing because I was born against all odds. But it wasn’t until later that I truly grasped the weight of those words. During my mother’s pregnancy, a massive tumor grew in her uterus, threatening both our lives. It was so large it nearly consumed the space meant for me, and doctors feared it would crush me before I took my first breath. The choice seemed inevitable: one life had to be sacrificed for the other. But in that hopelessness, one doctor stepped forward, not with a choice, but with a promise: “I could save both.” The day of the surgery arrived, a day that would decide both of our fates. My mother sat in the labor ward, whispering prayers. She was terrified yet unwavering. She refused anesthesia or any desensitization, afraid it might harm me, choosing instead to endure the pain for hours. One hour passed. Then two. Then three. The room was filled with hurried footsteps, the steady beeping of monitors, and the hushed voices of surgeons working against time. The tumor had wrapped around the space where I grew, threatening to take me with it. Every incision was a battle, every moment a test of whether we would both make it through. After what felt like eternity, the doors opened. Miracles happened, the surgery was successful. The tumor has been removed. Mom and baby both survived. I had survived. However, the consequences of the surgery were that she cannot give birth as vaginal like other moms, instead, a C-section was required, as the contractions of her uterus would have torn the incision made during the tumor removal surgery. Again, she refused to use any desensitization. It was a delicate procedure, but it was the only way to ensure my safe arrival. After all the struggles, countless prayers and sacrifices, I was born beautiful and healthy. I came into the world as a symbol of hope and resilience, a miracle in my mother’s eyes. Fifteen years later, I am now studying abroad in the US and living with my four younger cousins. I was constantly reminded of the miracle of birth, knowing that each child is a treasure to their parents. I love them deeply, seeing them as my own siblings. Despite dirty diapers or messy clothes, I embraced the responsibility with dedication, gaining valuable pediatric skills in toddler care, first aid, and understanding healthcare needs, becoming confident in the childcare. Through these experiences, I developed practical knowledge and deepened my appreciation for motherhood. In the womb, a tiny being is carefully formed, heartbeat by heartbeat, as if the universe stitches together a masterpiece. It is where miracles unfold in silence, where the soul takes its first breath, and life begins full of infinite possibilities. The women in my family, whose strength and sacrifices shaped me, have always nurtured life with unmatched devotion. All children in my life are not just the future, but a testament to that legacy. With their hopes placed in caregivers, I am pursuing a BSN with a focus on pediatrics, committed to offering the care every child deserves and honoring the strength of women and the boundless potential of every child.

“My dearest daughter, you are the miracle of countless prayers.” For the first 15 years of my life, I grew up in Vietnam surrounded by a culture that deeply cherishes family and caregiving. Yet, despite being raised in an environment filled with love and devotion, I never fully understood what it meant to be a miracle in a mother’s eyes. Everyone in my family says I was a blessing because I was born against all odds. But it wasn’t until later that I truly grasped the weight of those words. During my mother’s pregnancy, a massive tumor grew in her uterus, threatening both our lives. It was so large it nearly consumed the space meant for me, and doctors feared it would crush me before I took my first breath. The choice seemed inevitable: one life had to be sacrificed for the other. But in that hopelessness, one doctor stepped forward, not with a choice, but with a promise: “I could save both.” The day of the surgery arrived, a day that would decide both of our fates. My mother sat in the labor ward, whispering prayers. She was terrified yet unwavering. She refused anesthesia or any desensitization, afraid it might harm me, choosing instead to endure the pain for hours. One hour passed. Then two. Then three. The room was filled with hurried footsteps, the steady beeping of monitors, and the hushed voices of surgeons working against time. The tumor had wrapped around the space where I grew, threatening to take me with it. Every incision was a battle, every moment a test of whether we would both make it through. After what felt like eternity, the doors opened. Miracles happened, the surgery was successful. The tumor has been removed. Mom and baby both survived. I had survived. However, the consequences of the surgery were that she cannot give birth as vaginal like other moms, instead, a C-section was required, as the contractions of her uterus would have torn the incision made during the tumor removal surgery. Again, she refused to use any desensitization. It was a delicate procedure, but it was the only way to ensure my safe arrival. After all the struggles, countless prayers and sacrifices, I was born beautiful and healthy. I came into the world as a symbol of hope and resilience, a miracle in my mother’s eyes. Fifteen years later, I am now studying abroad in the US and living with my four younger cousins. I was constantly reminded of the miracle of birth, knowing that each child is a treasure to their parents. I love them deeply, seeing them as my own siblings. Despite dirty diapers or messy clothes, I embraced the responsibility with dedication, gaining valuable pediatric skills in toddler care, first aid, and understanding healthcare needs, becoming confident in the childcare. Through these experiences, I developed practical knowledge and deepened my appreciation for motherhood. In the womb, a tiny being is carefully formed, heartbeat by heartbeat, as if the universe stitches together a masterpiece. It is where miracles unfold in silence, where the soul takes its first breath, and life begins full of infinite possibilities. The women in my family, whose strength and sacrifices shaped me, have always nurtured life with unmatched devotion. All children in my life are not just the future, but a testament to that legacy. With their hopes placed in caregivers, I am pursuing a BSN with a focus on pediatrics, committed to offering the care every child deserves and honoring the strength of women and the boundless potential of every child.

“My dearest daughter, you are the miracle of countless prayers.” For the first 15 years of my life, I grew up in Vietnam surrounded by a culture that deeply cherishes family and caregiving. Yet, despite being raised in an environment filled with love and devotion, I never fully understood what it meant to be a miracle in a mother’s eyes. Everyone in my family says I was a blessing because I was born against all odds. But it wasn’t until later that I truly grasped the weight of those words. During my mother’s pregnancy, a massive tumor grew in her uterus, threatening both our lives. It was so large it nearly consumed the space meant for me, and doctors feared it would crush me before I took my first breath. The choice seemed inevitable: one life had to be sacrificed for the other. But in that hopelessness, one doctor stepped forward, not with a choice, but with a promise: “I could save both.” The day of the surgery arrived, a day that would decide both of our fates. My mother sat in the labor ward, whispering prayers. She was terrified yet unwavering. She refused anesthesia or any desensitization, afraid it might harm me, choosing instead to endure the pain for hours. One hour passed. Then two. Then three. The room was filled with hurried footsteps, the steady beeping of monitors, and the hushed voices of surgeons working against time. The tumor had wrapped around the space where I grew, threatening to take me with it. Every incision was a battle, every moment a test of whether we would both make it through. After what felt like eternity, the doors opened. Miracles happened, the surgery was successful. The tumor has been removed. Mom and baby both survived. I had survived. However, the consequences of the surgery were that she cannot give birth as vaginal like other moms, instead, a C-section was required, as the contractions of her uterus would have torn the incision made during the tumor removal surgery. Again, she refused to use any desensitization. It was a delicate procedure, but it was the only way to ensure my safe arrival. After all the struggles, countless prayers and sacrifices, I was born beautiful and healthy. I came into the world as a symbol of hope and resilience, a miracle in my mother’s eyes. Fifteen years later, I am now studying abroad in the US and living with my four younger cousins. I was constantly reminded of the miracle of birth, knowing that each child is a treasure to their parents. I love them deeply, seeing them as my own siblings. Despite dirty diapers or messy clothes, I embraced the responsibility with dedication, gaining valuable pediatric skills in toddler care, first aid, and understanding healthcare needs, becoming confident in the childcare. Through these experiences, I developed practical knowledge and deepened my appreciation for motherhood. In the womb, a tiny being is carefully formed, heartbeat by heartbeat, as if the universe stitches together a masterpiece. It is where miracles unfold in silence, where the soul takes its first breath, and life begins full of infinite possibilities. The women in my family, whose strength and sacrifices shaped me, have always nurtured life with unmatched devotion. All children in my life are not just the future, but a testament to that legacy. With their hopes placed in caregivers, I am pursuing a BSN with a focus on pediatrics, committed to offering the care every child deserves and honoring the strength of women and the boundless potential of every child.

“How deep is the water? Are you using my car?” My dad's voice crackled through the phone as he asked, concerned about lacing his words.“Yes, I am using your car, but the water is not that deep. It’s just right on my knee,” my mom responded calmly, though I could hear the tension in her voice. I looked out the window, watching the floodwaters rise at an alarming rate, and I knew this wasn’t just a passing storm. It was the beginning of the most devastating floods I would ever experience. It was a cloudy afternoon when my mom and I went out for groceries. As soon as we stepped outside, the wind slammed against my face, and the rain poured relentlessly. The streets flooded almost instantly, and within moments, the water rose faster than we could escape. Panic swept through the crowd as we tried to find safety, but the rising flood trapped us. We sought refuge in a tall building, surrounded by others just as helpless. One hour, two hours, and then five hours passed when the clock finally struck 3 am. I felt completely powerless facing the strength of nature. The feeling of the world ending right in front of me drained every ounce of strength I had left, and I felt as though I was drowning in despair. Suddenly, a team of people wearing uniforms on a little boat caught me by surprise, they are rescuers! I felt a spark of hope like the sun breaking through the darkest storm. They felt like heroes, like angels sent to pull us from the edge of hopelessness. Mother Nature’s power is unforgiving and unstoppable, a force so immense that no human effort can withstand or control it. On TV, I saw the agony in the survivors' eyes: 191 lives lost, 58 still missing, and 1,531 homes reduced to rubble, all swept away by the floodwaters. The weight of their loss pressed heavily on my heart, leaving a lasting ache that lingered long after the screen went dark. The next step, my family and I helped by volunteering, rescuing people, and distributing food and clothes to those in need. One by one, as we rescued people, the more joy we felt. The first step in overcoming those difficult moments was staying positive and spreading the light of hope to others even though in direct or indirect ways. During 2020, about 35 billion VND, which is more than 1,47 million USD, were donated to the villages and areas devastated by the flood. More than 700 rescuers from across the country worked tirelessly to search for missing people, their efforts a testament to the strength and compassion of a nation in crisis. The government also focused on rebuilding and improving flood prevention infrastructure to protect vulnerable areas in the future. This experience gave me two perspectives: those outside the flood and those trapped in it. From the outside, I saw the strength of human kindness and solidarity as volunteers, donors, and locals united to rebuild lives, offering food, shelter, and hope. The floodwaters destroyed homes but also brought communities closer together, highlighting the resilience of people in crisis. But from the inside, I witnessed the raw desperation of those trapped by the flood, helplessly watching entire lives disappear in an instant, with no control over the raging waters. On the other hand, glimmers of hope as rescuers, neighbors, and strangers helped each other survive. These experiences taught me how fragile life is, but also how strengthened the human spirit can be in the face of unimaginable challenges.