Every once in a while I stumble across this picture of me at 2 days old. I was born 4 months premature, weighed just over 1 pound, and had to fight like hell to beat all the odds doctors believed were against me. I am incredibly thankful I don't remember the time I spent in the NICU, but even more so for His love and devotion at guiding the hands of the incredible team of doctors and nurses who took care of me. For my parents who were always there to cheer me on with each and every milestone.
Two and a half years ago, one of my biggest dreams was ripped out from my grip. Stomped on with negative talk about why I'll never make it. Told I was clearly skipping class, not studying, and to find something else. Something easier. At first, I was relieved. Like a thousand pound weight was lifted from my shoulders. I pushed all thoughts of pursuing it further under the rug. Convinced myself what they told me was true. Let go of working at the one place I always imagined and started down a new, winding, bumpy path... that's seemingly leading me in circles.
A few weeks ago, I was working at my desk and an image popped into my head of me working in the NICU. It was so real. So vivid. In the days that followed, every time I found myself contemplating my future, it would pop back in. I tried to ignore it to no avail. I have no doubt this was His work. Guiding me back down the path He wrote out for me from the start.
After much discussion and prayer with the support of those closest to me, I have made the decision to look back into nursing. Different school, different program. Hopefully more support. The idea has brought on a whole slew of emotions, but I am trusting my heart and excited to see what comes of things this time around. 🙏🏻❤️👩🏻⚕️
