Becoming A Neonatologist: A Short Story

A boiling heat consumed me freshman year. The weather was not the culprit, but rather my self conscious telling me that my time was up. I sat up with my text book on hand and glared at the cable box tv with the concentration of an owl, 2:59 it read. The doorknob jiggled back and forth as my mother stormed in, without a word she sauntered straight to the kitchen and upon reaching her destination she swiveled back towards me. “Didn 't I tell you to do your chores before I came home?” Like a stream of water my words stumbled past my lips “I couldn 't I have a test to study for, Confidence was sleeping all day why can 't he do it?” I shivered deep in my bones knowing that my efforts were hopeless “I don 't care what you were doing “ she

By the time junior year came around I knew I wanted to be a Neonatologist, which ironically like housewifery is a woman dominated field. There was a calm before the storm, the day 's atmosphere was very uplifting, the sun was shining brightly while the wind counteracted with a March breeze. I came home from a long day of school and dove straight to bed for my daily ritual of an after school nap. I somehow sensed something was off, call it a sixth sense or a touch from God, but my brain told me something was wrong. My sister broke the news to me, she awoke me with the abrupt strength of a football player “Goodness, wake up Ashley died, wake up.” The death of my friend brought me to the lowest point of my life nevertheless the manner in which she died raised me up. Ashley went into premature labor at the peak of her pregnancy expecting a beautiful baby girl, during the process of childbirth she lost her life, but the little girl was given a new one. I believe that it was Ashley 's mission to give her child life, even if the cost meant her own life. As somber as this was, it gave me insight, I wanted to help other women complete their mission the best way I knew how, which is through Neonatology. Reflecting back on the conversation between my mom and I made me realize that a housewife in itself isn 't a negative connotation, nevertheless when that position is forced upon women it suffocates and traps us in a box. We cannot and should not tolerate being