Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Someone who will accomplish everything because they worked so hard, and failure is for those who refuse to keep going.

I may harbor frustration about the healthcare system I'm soon entering. It's a system where insurance decisions are beyond my control, corporate greed runs rampant, and my desire to help does not find adequate support from a government that boasts having the 'Best Healthcare in the World.' I may feel like I'm standing alone, but that doesn't mean I'm powerless. The first step in addressing any issue is acknowledging its reality. The second is educating oneself. And the third is realizing that the power to create change lies in our hands. I knew the reality of healthcare when I saw my own itemized insurance bill. I knew the reality of healthcare when I enrolled into nursing school, signing up for a healthcare system that mistreated all of its hardest workers. I knew the reality of healthcare when I lost my ambition to become a surgeon, because 40 hour work weeks didn’t apply to us. I knew the reality of healthcare when doctors got put in residencies they didn’t even want to specialize in. I also knew the reality of healthcare when I decided I was going to go into it anyways, because they can control a lot of things, but they can’t stop me from gaining the education and using it how I decide. They can’t dictate who I decide to help for free. They can’t dictate which countries I give my knowledge to. They can’t dictate the patients they will lose because I will educate them on their rights. They can’t dictate when my colleagues will get tired of being mistreated. Lastly, they can’t dictate who works for them, because I work for my patients and their well being, not corporate greed. Changing things can start by making the right choices all on your own.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Nobody in my Pakistani family understood why my grandpa wanted to put my mother, a woman, in college. The women in my family questioned what my mother would accomplish. The men wondered why my grandpa would waste money on a woman by sending her to college. It was a debate where everyone got a say about her future, and she was the only one left who didn’t. The neighbors wondered, her boy cousins who had dropped out of middle and high school wondered. Everyone had wondered so much, there was probably no one left in town who hadn’t given their opinion. The answer was simple, she wanted to go for the same reason men went. To learn. To thrive. To accomplish. What would a woman learn in college when all she had to do was cook for her husband until she died. What would she learn in books, when she should be cleaning the house? What could the books teach her about giving birth to endless heirs for the man she’s supposed to serve. She was a woman, and her body was made for serving her husband and his children. Her brain wasn’t meant to be used, or encouraged. Women didn’t need ideas or opinions. Women need to serve and please everyone around them. Her purpose of life depended on a man everyone had associated her existence with. A man she would please and finally be called a woman with. Because a woman who doesn’t serve a man wasn’t a woman, just a breathing body with no purpose. But apparently my grandpa thought she was more than that. She wasn’t just a wife to someone. She was a person with the potential to do everything he could. My mother was the reason my girl cousins got the right to go to college and nobody questioned them. Nobody questioned why women needed a Master’s degree in my family. They were respected as brilliant young girls. They were finally seen as human beings with a brain. Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Nobody in my Pakistani family understood why my grandpa wanted to put my mother, a woman, in college. The women in my family questioned what my mother would accomplish. The men wondered why my grandpa would waste money on a woman by sending her to college. It was a debate where everyone got a say about her future, and she was the only one left who didn’t. The neighbors wondered, her boy cousins who had dropped out of middle and high school wondered. Everyone had wondered so much, there was probably no one left in town who hadn’t given their opinion. The answer was simple, she wanted to go for the same reason men went. To learn. To thrive. To accomplish. What would a woman learn in college when all she had to do was cook for her husband until she died. What would she learn in books, when she should be cleaning the house? What could the books teach her about giving birth to endless heirs for the man she’s supposed to serve. She was a woman, and her body was made for serving her husband and his children. Her brain wasn’t meant to be used, or encouraged. Women didn’t need ideas or opinions. Women need to serve and please everyone around them. Her purpose of life depended on a man everyone had associated her existence with. A man she would please and finally be called a woman with. Because a woman who doesn’t serve a man wasn’t a woman, just a breathing body with no purpose. But apparently my grandpa thought she was more than that. She wasn’t just a wife to someone. She was a person with the potential to do everything he could. My mother was the reason my girl cousins got the right to go to college and nobody questioned them. Nobody questioned why women needed a Master’s degree in my family. They were respected as brilliant young girls. They were finally seen as human beings with a brain. My parents wanted me to go to college when I moved to the U.S with them. I had a 3.8 GPA graduating highschool but no financial literacy. All I knew about college was the life changing debt everyone complained about and was drowning in. I was scared, so, I chose my safest option, community college. After being a pre med major for 2 years, I later wanted to transfer to Nursing School but didn’t realize how high the stakes were and how impossible it is to transfer into one. My chances were better when I was in highschool and ended up at the one University that let me transfer into their program. Many universities only let you apply straight out of highschool, or get a second degree in Nursing. My college became my only choice. As much as I am grateful for the opportunity, the tuition is monumental compared to my parents finances, and scholarships and fafsa only cover so much.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. So, what made me want to be a superhero? I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until one day in January of 2023. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possesses that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until that day. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until that day. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

I am pursing a Bachelor of Science in Nursing at Seton Hall University. Medicine makes me feel like I have a superpower. I adore all the subjects in science, and I want to be educated in all the ways human beings of all ages and backgrounds can be helped. Not everyone can be passionate, brilliant and selfless. It’s a superpower because anyone who possess that power can choose to use it for the better of others, the same way superhero’s do. My weakness is if I can’t do everything to fix an issue, it’s the same as if I did nothing. But I’m a realist, accepting how reality is and aiming to make it better everyday is what makes me a good human. My strength is overcoming the obstacles regardless of who put them there. Nobody ever got freedom by asking for it, it was fought for. Just because you don’t win today, doesn’t mean you can’t win tomorrow. My only passion in life has been to help others. The saying “Money makes the world go around” is a reality. I figured with my degree, I could give free healthcare to countless others one day, and with the money I will earn, I could create hospitals in a third world country such as Pakistan. I want to create a world I wish I lived in. The first step to creating that world is educating myself before I try to help others. My friends told me the girl from Storm and Silence, a book by Robert Thier, reminded them of me. It was also my favorite book series, so I was ecstatic to hear that. It was about a girl named Lily Linton, who had big dreams, and too many rules to follow. She lived in 19th century Victorian England, pretending to be her uncle so she could legally vote and get a job. She was ambitious and unstoppable. As a Muslim I’ve been blessed in all ways a human being wishes. It makes me question ‘Why me?’. Why aren’t others given education, financial stability, great families and many other factors, but I was. Instead of being selfish, ungrateful and unempathetic to the suffering of others, I was blessed with the self awareness to help them. Not because it benefited me in any way, but because everyone deserved what I had. With my education, knowledge, and career, I will be able to help others and give them the life they deserve.

I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until that day. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take him out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, to not only the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still with me. I want to be a Labor and Delivery nurse, so I never have to go through that fear again, and help others in situations I can understand being in.

I always understood the challenges of childbirth, but I had never felt the fear of losing a loved one until that day. My cousin was in the hospital, trying to give birth to her third child naturally, but it took an unexpected turn. The medical team had to perform an emergency C-section because the baby's heartbeat had stopped, and they managed to take the baby out safely. The baby we spent months wishing for, talking about, praying for its health and happiness, was finally here. The baby that now existed and was everything we all hoped for. But all of that in a blink of an eye no longer remained the most important thing. We were relieved the baby was perfect and healthy. But the fear of losing his mother had us gripped with shock. Before this, childbirth had seemed routine. Her first two daughters were born naturally at the hospital when I was in middle and high school. Back then, I was oblivious to the reality and fear that come with labor and delivery; I was just a child myself. Now, in college, I was acutely aware of how swiftly circumstances could take a turn for the worse. It was not solely the baby's well-being that occupied our thoughts; it was my cousin's life hanging in the balance. I was happy to see the baby alive and breathing, but I would be lying if I said I could think about anyone but my cousin at that moment. The baby may be alive and healthy, but that baby needed a mother who was also alive and healthy. Her two daughters needed a mother. It wasn’t a fair trade to gain a little brother and lose their mother in return. As ecstatic as we all were to be holding the baby we had only talked about for nine months, we were waiting for the doctors to come out and give us the final news about the mothers well being. It was like we were all holding our breaths, turning blue, because we couldn’t breath without knowing if the mother was alive too. To know if the mother will be going home with the baby the same way she came. I felt powerless that day. Powerless that I couldn’t be the one saving my cousin, and had zero medical training to do anything about my circumstances. I wanted a future where I could be helpful, not only to the baby being born, but the mother as well. The doctor gave us good news that day, but that fear of powerlessness is still unforgettable.