On passion and purpose.

When I was maybe 12 or 13 years old, I remember staring dreamily at the television as a young George Clooney donned scrubs and deftly saved lives (thank you, E.R.), and decisively announcing to my mother that the only way I would ever become a doctor is if I was going to deliver babies. A few years later, as I contemplated my future more seriously, I decided against a career in obstetrics because, as I informed a friend in the bluntly scientific Vanessa way, "I just don't want to spend the rest of my life staring into vaginas all day."

Such class at such a young age.

Fast forward to that time after college when I decided against doing anything constructive with the degree I had just earned, and was once again looking into my options in the medical field. At an information session for a Physician Assistant graduate program in Colorado, I remember raising my hand and asking whether PAs ever got to work with laboring women. I was told that the only medical professionals to do such a thing were OB-GYNs and nurse-midwives. I thought, "Crap. Like I'd ever want to be a nurse." Ha. Hahaha. Later on, faced with mounting bills from that hard-won and useless degree of mine, I was dismayed to find that it cost thousands of dollars even to become a doula. Slowly, that mild yet persistent itch to get myself into the labor room found its way back to the shadowy recesses of my brain.

Until last fall. My very first clinical rotation in nursing school sent me to labor & delivery, where I promptly fell in love. Not to mention the dynamite professor who pretty much changed all of our lives. After that class ended, getting myself to school every day was raw, brute will-power. Midway through the summer, as my motivation teetered on empty, I quickly realized that if I wanted to get through the next few months without losing my mind, I had to remind myself why I was back in school in the first place. So I watched documentaries and I listened to audiobooks and followed blogs and I read my Ina May. And then, as the countdown to graduation descended into double digits and I became accustomed to the reality of looking for a job in a market that is decidedly unkind to newly licensed RNs, I stopped. Fast.

I generally try to avoid true desire at all costs, usually justifying my disinterest with some heady internal monologue that rambles on about non-attachment to outcomes or how everything happens for a reason. But really, like it does to most of us, the risk of failure or disappointment scares the ever-loving daylights out of me. And when I say that that all I want is a job - any job, just as long as it puts this degree of mine to work - I'm lying to myself. Now, don't misunderstand me; that doesn't mean that I'm not keeping an open mind, or that I wouldn't take the first good job offer that comes my way. After all, bills still need to be paid. But it also doesn't mean that it's ok to settle for something that doesn't make my heart sing, not long-term. It doesn't mean that it's acceptable to forget the things I'm passionate about because it's more comfortable to convince myself that I would be "content" with whatever happens, and that getting excited about a job that I would ultimately love to do isn't worth it in this economy. 

In The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho writes, “Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself. And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams.” So a couple of days ago, I sized up my dusty stack of books about birth history, labor, and midwifery, and dove back in. One of the hospitals I applied to has two spots on the L+D unit for new grads. Two. I do not like them apples. I can't tell if I will get an interview, I have no idea if I'll get a job offer from that hospital at all, and I certainly don't know what my chances are of being picked for one of those spots. 

As purposeful and re-engaged as I feel right now, I know that being passed over for such an opportunity would feel pretty awful. But you know what? Despite all the discomfort, I think I'd rather be passionate and disappointed than successful and bored. Besides, Coelho also writes, "When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” I hope that's true, for all our sakes. 

And even if it's not, here's to vulnerability. Here's to having high hopes, and having them dashed, and having the persistence and chutzpah to keep on fighting the good fight.