The military was my dream for as long as I can remember. I recall sitting on the roof of my father’s 1998 Chevrolet Suburban, eyes affixed to the night while bursts of color painted the sky above the Blockbuster video store. We always watched the fireworks from that Acme grocery lot. Dad would find the best spot on the asphalt, spread a large blanket on the car roof, and hoist me up to what seemed like the top of the world. I cried watching those fireworks. I cried every year, and never fully understood why. It wasn’t uncommon for me to spend my weeknights in the living room, cross-legged in front of our 20 inch box-television set, hanging on the words of Ken Burns. While typical little girls were busy playing with Barbie, I was army crawling through the woods re-enacting the beach landing at Normandy. Even as a child, my heroes always wore fatigues. By the time I enrolled in college, I had already signed a contract with the United States Air Force. My years of gazing up as a child at the night sky had eventually revealed itself to me as a sort of patriotic calling. And soon, that innate empathy I held in my heart for our service members translated into a passion for helping others. It was this desire to connect with and help other people that brought me to nursing--after all, service is what nursing is all about. I was blessed with an acceptance into the Clemson University nursing program, an institution rich with military history. I spent my undergraduate years balancing my nursing curriculum, ROTC, and several service organizations (and of course…football). Upon my graduation, I was commissioned as an officer in the Air Force Nurse Corps.

Patience has had an incredible impact on my life so far. And if I'm being honest, it wasn't always something I excelled in. I spent the first fours years of my professional life as an active duty officer in the United States Air Force. This was a career and passion I happened to share with the love of my life--which turned out to be a less-than-ideal situation for a budding romance. When we first met, I was living across the country from my future-husband, which tends to be a deal-breaker in most relationships. I served as a nurse on the coast of Mississippi, while my husband served as a Weapons System Officer in South Carolina, New Mexico, and Florida. We tried to prioritize seeing one another, but faced challenges that came with demanding jobs and a global pandemic. There was a period of 9 months where I physically could not leave a 30-minute radius of my military duty station. I often had leave denied because my mission required me to work long hours. Despite the adversity, we pursued our relationship for four years long distance--2.5 of which we were legally married. It wasn't until this past February that my husband and I were finally reunited. Patience was the virtue that saw me through some of the most mentally challenging years of my life. Military service was extremely demanding, compounded with the fact that my spouse and I could not physically live together for four years. The one thing that kept me hopeful through this time period was that things will change. I never knew when I would see my husband again, but I practiced patience, hopeful to be reunited with him in time. Patience kept me going when all seemed lost, and has brought immeasurable value to my marriage.

The military was my dream for as long as I can remember. I recall sitting on the roof of my father’s 1998 Chevrolet Suburban, eyes affixed to the night while bursts of color painted the sky above the Blockbuster video store. We always watched the fireworks from that Acme grocery lot. Dad would find the best spot on the asphalt, spread a large blanket on the car roof, and hoist me up to what seemed like the top of the world. I cried watching those fireworks. I cried every year, and never fully understood why. It wasn’t uncommon for me to spend my weeknights in the living room, cross-legged in front of our 20 inch box-television set, hanging on the words of Ken Burns. While typical little girls were busy playing with Barbie, I was army crawling through the woods re-enacting the beach landing at Normandy. Even as a child, my heroes always wore fatigues. By the time I enrolled in college, I had already signed a contract with the United States Air Force. My years of tearing up as a child under the night sky had eventually revealed itself to me as a sort of patriotic calling. And soon, that innate empathy I held in my heart for our service members translated into a passion for helping others. I was blessed with an acceptance into the Clemson University nursing program, an institution rich with military history. I spent my undergraduate years balancing my nursing curriculum, ROTC, and several service organizations (and of course…football). Upon my graduation, I was commissioned as an officer in the Air Force Nurse Corps. My imagination placed me in a MASH-style tent hospital, on the border of a chaotic battlefield, trauma nursing in the midst of war. My reality placed me on a labor and delivery unit in Mississippi. I did not intend to spend my career as a labor and delivery nurse in the military. However, what began as an unexpected first assignment, lead me to discovering my second calling. It was only a matter of time before I fell deeply in love with women’s health. In just under four years, I witnessed the births hundreds of births. I held the hands of women in both their most joyful and devastating moments. I brought women dignity in even the most vulnerable of times, and I provided life-saving care in critical emergency situations. I was granted the most beautiful opportunity, giving back to a group of strong women who regularly put their own needs second to that of others. My unique perspective working with military women has opened my eyes to how crucial it is for our healthcare community to continue supporting this particular patient population--our active duty women and veterans. I know firsthand the depth of the sacrifices they make--from deployments away from children and loved ones, to long hours of arduous labor as the workplace norm. For over 100 years, women have served and died alongside men fighting our nation’s wars. 14% of our current military are female, and 10% of our current veteran population are female—a percentage that grows every year. My ultimate goal as a nurse practitioner is to continue serving this community. Women have unique and specific needs separate from men, which is not always prioritized in the military. I will advocate for the reproductive health and rights of our nations female warfighters through employment as a government employee on a military facility or the VA. Becoming a Women’s Health Nurse Practitioner grants me the privilege of continuing service to our country, this time as a civilian and a veteran.

The military was my dream for as long as I can remember. I recall sitting on the roof of my father’s 1998 Chevrolet Suburban, eyes affixed to the night while bursts of color painted the sky above the Blockbuster video store. We always watched the fireworks from that Acme grocery lot. Dad would find the best spot on the asphalt, spread a large blanket on the car roof, and hoist me up to what seemed like the top of the world. I cried watching those fireworks. I cried every year, and never fully understood why. It wasn’t uncommon for me to spend my weeknights in the living room, cross-legged in front of our 20 inch box-television set, hanging on the words of Ken Burns. While typical little girls were busy playing with Barbie, I was army crawling through the woods re-enacting the beach landing at Normandy. Even as a child, my heroes always wore fatigues. By the time I enrolled in college, I had already signed a contract with the United States Air Force. My years of tearing up as a child under the night sky had eventually revealed itself to me as a sort of patriotic calling. And soon, that innate empathy I held in my heart for our service members translated into a passion for helping others. I was blessed with an acceptance into the Clemson University nursing program, an institution rich with military history. I spent my undergraduate years balancing my nursing curriculum, ROTC, and several service organizations (and of course…football). Upon my graduation, I was commissioned as an officer in the Air Force Nurse Corps. My imagination placed me in a MASH-style tent hospital, on the border of a chaotic battlefield, trauma nursing in the midst of war. My reality placed me on a labor and delivery unit in Mississippi. I did not intend to spend my career as a labor and delivery nurse in the military. However, what began as an unexpected first assignment, lead me to discovering my second calling. It was only a matter of time before I fell deeply in love with women’s health. In just under four years, I witnessed the births hundreds of births. I held the hands of women in both their most joyful and devastating moments. I brought women dignity in even the most vulnerable of times, and I provided life-saving care in critical emergency situations. I was granted the most beautiful opportunity, giving back to a group of strong women who regularly put their own needs second to that of others. My unique perspective working with military women has opened my eyes to how crucial it is for our healthcare community to continue supporting this particular patient population--our active duty women and veterans. I know firsthand the depth of the sacrifices they make--from deployments away from children and loved ones, to long hours of arduous labor as the workplace norm. For over 100 years, women have served and died alongside men fighting our nation’s wars. 14% of our current military are female, and 10% of our current veteran population are female—a percentage that grows every year. My ultimate goal as a nurse practitioner is to continue serving this community. Women have unique and specific needs separate from men, which is not always prioritized in the military. I will advocate for the reproductive health and rights of our nations female warfighters through employment as a government employee on a military facility or the VA. Becoming a Women’s Health Nurse Practitioner grants me the privilege of continuing service to our country, this time as a civilian and a veteran.

For four years I awoke daily to the sound of reveille softly playing in the distance, a tune which somehow always found its way into my tiny one-bedroom apartment. I lived two miles from the military base, as an effort to separate my military-life from my home-life. Yet, every morning, sure as the sun rose, I was awakened to my very own bugle serenade. It's funny how a military career consumes your entire life. I was the only young officer on my small remote unit, where the only people I could potentially befriend were forbidden due to fraternization rules. I woke up, went to work, went home, repeat. I could not leave the local area without permission (which was frequently denied), and I soon spiraled into a dark place. I suffered mentally. I saw a therapist. I was prescribed medication. Nothing seemed to bring me out of the darkness. And then Pippa came along. I found myself wandering into the local animal shelter one afternoon, with only the intention of donating some old towels. I left the shelter that day with not one, but FIVE fosters--a young black cat named Pippa and her four tiny, fuzzy kittens. Suddenly, that one-bedroom apartment seemed a lot less dreary. Instead of the usual bugle wakeup call, I was awoken to tiny mews. I kept the family of five for four weeks, at the end of which I adopted Pippa. She is sitting on my lap as I type this essay, five years later. Mental Health is something that is so important to me. It is important because I survived. In a world where 22 veterans take their lives every day, I am a survivor. I am currently a disabled veteran, still struggling with my mental health, but thanks to Pippa I am alive.