Block 1 of Medical School: Complete

The past six months of medical school has flown by.
Here is the gist of it:

White coat ceremony was surreal.  It was one of the best days to date.  I cried a little because I was so proud of myself.  I just couldn't believe my hard work and crazy life had finally brought me to the place I wanted to be and they were handing me my short white coat.
It was also hard.  It was so hard knowing my mom wouldn't be there.  That after when everyone is looking for their families faces in the crowd that hers wouldn't be there and it wouldn't be there in the hallway after either.

But I am so thankful that my sweet husband's face is always there with a smile, in the crowd, in the hallway, after a long day he's always there.  I honestly don't know if I would have ever had the confidence to do this on my own when there were so many bumps along the way.  A support system is absolutely necessary.

It took a couple weeks to get over the initial shock that I was actually on my way to becoming a doctor.  The deer in headlights in me stuck around for orientation and the first week and a half of school and wore off shortly after the first quizzes when we got back to the thing we've been doing since we were 5 years old- studying and quizzing.

I think its wearing off.  I feel like this is just life now instead of some dream.

I found out I was pregnant days before school started.  So school and baby together has been a complete roller coaster. With only 2 months left until baby things are getting really interesting.


Things I'm struggling with:
-Socially.  All of my classmates are so kind and so loving and they don't do this to boast.  But I do feel socially behind all of them.  They talk about their large institutions, their research, the places around the world they've been and it does make me feel very isolated.  I've been working since I was 15 to make it.

• Education: I didn't have the money or educational background to go to a large, fancy institution coming from a tiny, rural, under served, and lower educated area.  I went where I was offered the most scholarship and grant monies.  And ITS OKAY.  I may have went to a small, regional, university in the South West but I do not feel like my education is lacking in the slightest.  That small university got me a degree, hardly any debt, a lot of one on one attention from amazing professors who have worked at some of the most impressive places, and I am still on par in class with my peers who went to these dream schools.  If you are at a small school, it's okay and it is not a death sentence.
• Research: Small university=small research opportunities.  Also, I never knew how important it was.  I fumbled through this process a lot and wish I would have had anyone say "HEY!  THIS IS IMPORTANT!".  It's important, do it!  Even if it is limited and you don't love sitting at the bench all day at the end of the day this is how so many medical issues are being studied and you need to know and appreciate this.
• Travel: Poor in college regardless that a lot of it I worked full time while going to school full time.  My family doesn't have money.  All my money went to phone bills, car insurance, rent, buying a car when ours died, and all the in between stuff.  I had to adult which took most of money and there just wasn't any left over to do this amazing trips and experience the world.  And its okay- we are all so different and bring so much to the table with our lives.
• Lower class:  I think this is something I will always feel and will struggle with my entire life.  I feel like I will forever be trying not to be the poor lower class girl that I am.  I have a hard time relating to stories of everyone in their family is doctors, having amazing opportunities to shadow world class surgeons that their parents know, medical volunteer work all over the world, and so many other amazing opportunities that I am so envious of.  If this speaks to you- you're not alone.  I'm not alone in my class either, there are a few of us struggling with this and I know we're not alone around the country in feeling like this.

I know it's application season and I do wish you all the best of luck because it's a hard, emotional, and whirlwind of a roller coaster and everyone needs someone to root them on! Not every school will be a fit- always go for the best fit not the best name.  A name is great, but 4 years in a high stress environment might not be the best for your mental health if you're unhappy where you are at.  

You got this!

Block 1 of Medical School: Complete

The past month of medical school has flown by.
Here is the gist of it:

White coat ceremony was surreal.  It was one of the best days to date.  I cried a little because I was so proud of myself.  I just couldn't believe my hard work and crazy life had finally brought me to the place I wanted to be and they were handing me my short white coat.
It was also hard.  It was so hard knowing my mom wouldn't be there.  That after when everyone is looking for their families faces in the crowd that hers wouldn't be there and it wouldn't be there in the hallway after either.

But I am so thankful that my sweet husband's face is always there with a smile, in the crowd, in the hallway, after a long day he's always there.  I honestly don't know if I would have ever had the confidence to do this on my own when there were so many bumps along the way.  A support system is absolutely necessary.

It took a couple weeks to get over the initial shock that I was actually on my way to becoming a doctor.  The deer in headlights in me stuck around for orientation and the first week and a half of school and wore off shortly after the first quizzes when we got back to the thing we've been doing since we were 5 years old- studying and quizzing.

I think its wearing off.  I feel like this is just life now instead of some dream.

We have now had 2 patient encounters.  Which is a doozy in its own that no one ever talks about.  Because it is hard to be yourself, get the information for the grade, connect with the patient, and stay under the time limit.  But having these encounters really does keep into perspective why I'm here.

Yesterday I took my first final in medical school and took a solid B in my first course which I am completely happy with.  I'm really making it a point to keep my mental health and relationships a high priority.  And if that means I miss out on a few points to get a B, I am completely happy with that.


Ways I studied for this block:
-Group study.  I was really hesitant to because in undergrad I felt they were so unproductive.  But guess what?  In medical school, everyone there is ready to put in work so it is productive.  Alot of the group study was talking about topics, asking each other questions or practicing patient encounters on each other.
-Took my time the first time through information instead of just glazing over and thinking I'll go back to it later.

Also here is a secret-  there is a lot of information and it does take up a lot of time BUT it is all topics that you are interested in and it all relates back to clinical relevance so it's not that bad.  You may have spent the entire day studying but its typically things you're interested in so it doesn't feel like you spent the whole day doing something so dull.

Things I'm struggling with:
-Socially.  All of my classmates are so kind and so loving and they don't do this to boast.  But I do feel socially behind all of them.  They talk about their large institutions, their research, the places around the world they've been and it does make me feel very isolated.  I've been working since I was 15 to make it.

• Education: I didn't have the money or educational background to go to a large, fancy institution coming from a tiny, rural, under served, and lower educated area.  I went where I was offered the most scholarship and grant monies.  And ITS OKAY.  I may have went to a small, regional, university in the South West but I do not feel like my education is lacking in the slightest.  That small university got me a degree, hardly any debt, a lot of one on one attention from amazing professors who have worked at some of the most impressive places, and I am still on par in class with my peers who went to these dream schools.  If you are at a small school, it's okay and it is not a death sentence.
• Research: Small university=small research opportunities.  Also, I never knew how important it was.  I fumbled through this process a lot and wish I would have had anyone say "HEY!  THIS IS IMPORTANT!".  It's important, do it!  Even if it is limited and you don't love sitting at the bench all day at the end of the day this is how so many medical issues are being studied and you need to know and appreciate this.
• Travel: Poor in college regardless that a lot of it I worked full time while going to school full time.  My family doesn't have money.  All my money went to phone bills, car insurance, rent, buying a car when ours died, and all the in between stuff.  I had to adult which took most of money and there just wasn't any left over to do this amazing trips and experience the world.  And its okay- we are all so different and bring so much to the table with our lives.
• Lower class:  I think this is something I will always feel and will struggle with my entire life.  I feel like I will forever be trying not to be the poor lower class girl that I am.  I have a hard time relating to stories of everyone in their family is doctors, having amazing opportunities to shadow world class surgeons that their parents know, medical volunteer work all over the world, and so many other amazing opportunities that I am so envious of.  If this speaks to you- you're not alone.  I'm not alone in my class either, there are a few of us struggling with this and I know we're not alone around the country in feeling like this.

I am happy and thankful that my biggest struggle in medical school to date is socially feeling awkward and not the material.  

This is hard to tell the whole world that even after I have this beautiful white coat and wearing my scrubs and official student doctor ID badge that I still feel white trash next to my peers but I would have done anything to talk to anyone in my position on "the other side" when I was a pre-med and honestly doubted if someone like me could ever possible make it into medical school.

I know it's application season and interviews start soon and I do wish you all the best of luck because it's a hard, emotional, and whirlwind of a roller coaster and everyone needs someone to root them on! Not every school will be a fit- always go for the best fit not the best name.  A name is great, but 4 years in a high stress environment might not be the best for your mental health if you're unhappy where you are at.  

You got this!

Adventures in Apartment Hunting

School orientation starts in 2 months and 2 days.  Waaaa!

This past weekend we went hunting for a new place to live.

And it got me so so excited.  We timed the apartment from school and as we're sitting at a stop light C asked me, "Does this make you nervous?"  And it didn't. Not one bit of it made me nervous.  I felt like I had rainbows shooting out of my head I was so ecstatic that this dream is becoming a reality. 

That night as we lay there talking before bed I told him some of my fears about this dream.

I feel like I don't belong.  That this white trash girl with poor grammar and etiquette was mistakenly let into this elite profession and I'm going to embarrass myself so much.

I do have doubts that I'm not smart enough- that my grades and MCAT was some fluke.  But I have to keep reminding myself if I wasn't smart enough I wouldn't have even got an interview let alone a spot in the class of 2020. 

And his words may have been the sweetest thing out of his mouth to date.  He said it with such earnestly that I believe him with every fiber in me.

He said, "The people who have had to fight for everything know how to carry on when it gets tough.  You can do this."

As application season is in progress for the class of 2021, here is your friendly reminder that you can do this too. 

You got this. 

Part 6: Why Medicine

Part 5 Part 4 Part 3 Part 2 Part 1 

Here we are: my actual why medicine reasons that I've used in interviews, conversations, drafts in personal statements, and drafts to practice interview questions.  

So, why so many posts when I wrote about months and years after her death? 

Because grief is real.  And it takes a while to figure it out.  And it shapes you more than you could ever imagine.  And grief lasts much longer than the initial stun of loss.

And it took me a long time to come to terms with everything that death means and entails. 

It means- you have to do things without reassurance from one of the people you trust the most.  You have to stumble through taxes, insurance, and adulting and hope you don't screw up without any supervision.  You have no one to co-sign for you.  You have no one to ask about their pregnancies, deliveries, or ask what they did for their babies because their experience will likely be very similar to yours.  You have to cheer yourself on because Moms not there.  You have to actively seek out a relationship with your brother because there aren't parents to make you come together at holidays.  Mother's Day is forever horrible.  Her birthday is ok.  Christmas and Thanksgiving are kind of hard.  Every time "Kryptonite" or "Bleed American" comes on the radio it is a painful reminder of her singing in the car as loud as she can.  There are no more cards in her handwriting with a cheesy smiley face at the end.  I will never receive a text message telling me good luck, I'm proud of you, or I love you again.   There will come a time when I will no longer remember her voice. There was not a proud, crying mom at my college graduation.  There will be no proud parents at my white coat ceremony, my medical school graduation, or the for the first real job I have.  My kids won't know the most influential person in my life or their grandparents.  There is no one left on the planet that will love me no matter what crime, wrong doing, heartache, bad word, or bad action you may or may not do.  Your friend circle loses a spot.  There's no one to ask questions about the past.  There is no one to give you recipes for your favorite childhood foods.  I will never receive another pair of good luck socks.  Other things in life that used to be life shattering, barely warrant a shoulder shrug these days.  You really can't relate with others your age about their parents coming to visit or call or babysit or care packages; and they can't relate to you either.  When you see an acquaintance and they ask, "oh how's your family doing" you have a split second to decide if you will put them in an uncomfortable situation or just roll with it by saying "good".  There's no one anymore to surprise you with groceries when you're in between pay days and sick of ramen.  No one is coming to your rescue anymore so you have to figure out how to rescue yourself.  There's no one on your side sticking up for you anymore.  

The hardest realization, and I'll say it again, is there is no reassurance anymore.  You just do what you think will work and wish mom was there for her wisdom and try to stay strong when everyone else bombards you with their opinions on your life.

I didn't have her to turn to when things got rough with C and I.  I didn't have her when I still didn't know how to cook.  I didn't have her when I wasn't confident enough to even think about applying to medical school.  I won't have her when weird things start happening to me in pregnancy.  I won't have her to ask advice when those kids are being little shitskees.

You take these things for granted.  And people don't understand.  So they say things to reassure you, but you know they have no idea.  Instead it's like they cut you a little deeper. 

"You'll be fine, I lived across the country from my mom when I had babies."  Yeah, you did.  But I'm sure you were on the phone with your mom more than I will ever be.

"Oh it was just us and the baby."  No, it was never just you and the baby.  You're mom was there during your pregnancy and birth and you both own telephones.

"Well I can't talk to my mom right now so she might as well be dead."  No.  You still know in your heart of hearts there is a chance to talk to her again.  I have no chance. Ever. 

I will never speak to my mom in this lifetime.  Her advice is gone.  Everything I could soak up in 20 years is what I have.  I didn't ask life questions because I was a kid.  And those are the questions that I really needed to ask.

It was completely life altering. 

It took a long time to be "okay".  It also took a lot of time to reflect on myself as a person, my identity, and who I was before and who I am now.

I am a kinder and more compassionate person since her passing.  I had a very hard shell and didn't let people in.  Now it's more of a semi-permeable membrane.  I understand loss, grief, anger.  I understand the sadness that cuts to the bone.  I understand being scared.  I understand your frustrations with the unknown.  I understand the panic.

I'm not afraid to fail.  I basically failed my first MCAT and was denied admittance to medical school my first cycle.  If my mom were still alive, I don't think I would have ever even tried to get into the medical field, yet alone take the MCAT multiple times or applied two years in a row to medical schools.  I was not that strong because I had her love and compassion to fall back on.

It may be stupid, but I feel "YOLO" is a perfectly acceptable answer to the above.  Her passing showed me how precious life is and that we only have one go at it.  I will not be afraid to reach my potential, to fail, to feel love, be myself, or to enjoy life.  I refuse to wait for "one day".  Today is as good a day as any other.  I also refuse to live a life that want for me.  This is my life, my chance at what I want.  I was not put on earth to follow anyone's life plan other than my own.

Her death made me strong.   Maybe resilient is a better word.  Things hurt, but I know how to just keep going now.

When my mom passed, I really had to think of what living a life I could be proud of really meant.  

It came with a lot of tears.

Now, to the point.

Why medicine- 

Because of the countless nights I spent with my mom, there was always a doctor there in the middle of the night trying to get her better.

Because when I had a questions, there was always a doctor trying to answer.

Because of the countless tears I cried, there was a doctor handing me a box of tissues.

Because when the doctor told me my mom had 3-4 days, I placed all of my trust in him.

Because grief does weird things to your life and relationships, you grow into the person you want to be or let it break you, and it grew me into a caretaker.

Because it made me more sensitive and tough all at the same time.  Your doctor can't cry when you're in pain; you should be allowed to handle your pain while the doc does their job.  But that doc should also be able to show compassion.  

Because I want to be a role model to young girls thinking they're not smart enough- you can do this! 

Because I have been on the receiving side of medicine, I want to be on the giving side.  I want to have your answers, lose sleep to help your loved one gets better, to hand you a tissue box when you're at your lowest, and for you to put your trust in my hands.  

Because I could do any job, but taking care of your Heath is my dream.  I want to help you be your best self by helping you get healthier and staying healthy. 

Because I am obsessed with the human body and all the amazing things it does from making a new human to making little glycoproteins for antibodies. 

Because I want all the information and training possible to be this person for you.

Because my mom worked really hard to put me in a position to help others, to help you.

Because life is hard, I refuse to give up, and I refuse to give up on you.

Becaue I know I can.  And I know I'll be really good at being this person for you.  

So many times people have said, "why not a nurse, PA, etc"... My why not--- they are very skilled and educated and also very important and necessary components of healthcare; but they do not have the same level of education and training as a physician.  I want to have every tool possible to help you.  I want to know without a doubt of what it is I will be doing to help you.  I do not want to consult with another provider on every patient if I know what is the best care plan for you.  Sure, there will be plenty times I have to consult with my peers, but I will also be used to consult on others patients.  I want all the knowledge and training possible to provide you the best one on one care I possibly can.  I want the responsibility that being this person entails.  

Why medicine is so much more of a feeling then I could ever accurately put into words.  I want it, but I also feel it.  It sounds cheesy, but it's true.  But it's something every premed needs to be able to do.  You need to be able to clearly identify YOUR reasons.  Everyone's why is different, not everyone's why is heartbreak, and not everyone's reason is the same.  Your why can be simple, it's okay.  Your why can be complex, and that's okay too.  Medical schools receive thousands of applications and personal statements each cycle- make YOU shine.  Whatever your why is, know it and make it shine.  It will get brought up in every single interview.

And guess what?  I talked about my mom in every single interview.  It was emotional.  Some interviewers didn't like it (I could tell by the look on their faces), but others saw my compassion and my why more clearly.  I couldn't hide something/someone that played such a huge roll in my why medicine.  I am very passionate about letting others know- you can do this, it's hard but you can do hard things, everyone is very different so focus on what makes you stick out from all the other great GPAs and extracurricular activities.  My why medicine is what my difference was, and I made sure others knew.  

Know your why medicine- it's why you are dedicating your entire life to taking care of others. If you don't know, dig deep and find your why.

You got this.

Part 2: Why Medicine

For me, "why medicine" was very difficult to summarize into a few sentences to put into my personal statement or reduce for interviews.  I have to sum it up in a few lengthy blog posts at best.

It is a lifetime of feelings and experiences that had to be condensed.  Most importantly it was my view on my mother from healthy to ill that helped shape this part of me.

Read my Part 1: Why Medicine to read my why from the beginning.

My mom had always been beautiful to me.  She hated her thin, wispy, mousy brown/blonde hair that we often dyed blonde and chopped funky and spiky but I liked to play with it because it would do just about everything my hair wouldn't.  She hated her thin nails and would often tell me how jealous she was of mine.  In high school I still wasn't very girly but had wanted my nails nicely painted so I asked her to help me.  In the middle of her drawing some cool design she whipped off the top of her head she said, "You have every body trait I always wanted," and she giggled and kept painting.  She always had fair skin that would sunburn so badly but would never miss out on our sun soaked soccer tournaments.  The latter part of my childhood she was constantly sunburned because of this.  She had these piercing green eyes that always had a little twinkle in them - which I'm pretty sure just showed how mischievous she was, even as a mother she loved a little trouble.  She always had this bone structure that did not resemble mine- her legs and arms were slender but always muscular, my wrist width had been bigger than hers since I was in 3rd grade.  She had cute little feet and the hands of a woman who had worked hard her whole life.  She always made sure she looked her best by applying her makeup, styling her hair, and smelling wonderful.  She would have killed me if I would ever worn a bra strap that stuck out of my shirt.

She did not look like this woman anymore at my reception.  Her hair was still wispy- but thinner and not healthy.  Her nails were worse than ever - thin and full of ridges.  Her fair skin was sickly yellow, had a weird smell, and was terribly oily.  Her eyes just weren't twinkling anymore- it was more of a wince like she was in constant pain.  It looked like her eyes were bulging out and the whites of her eyes were this terrible yellow color.  Her body was now disproportional looking; her arms and legs were nothing but flesh and bones while her abdomen was 4x the normal size and her face was so swollen.  She looked painfully put together.  Her white bra was peaking out of her black dress, she didn't have her makeup just so like she always had, her shoes and jewelry did not match like they always had in the past.  Her feet, hands, and joints were also swollen for how little her limbs had become. The woman at my wedding was a woman who was hanging on with every inch of her being to be there. 

She was obviously very ill but I assumed that she'd just get better.  She wasn't old.  She was only 47.  It hadn't even crossed my mind that she might die.


I wish I would have been strong enough to lean on my mom like a little girl and asked her to do my hair and makeup once last time.  I wish I would have been strong enough to notice this shell of a woman was in trouble.

Everyone was absolutely concerned with my mom's appearance.  She was yellow, not really something people can easily ignore.


I had all sorts of family members coming up to me asking me to beg my mom to go to the hospital.

I already had.

Her response, "I didn't go because I knew if I did go they wouldn't let me out.  And I couldn't miss this."


My family was hovered around each other determining the next best step to care for my mom.


She promised to go as soon as my reception was over in Phoenix, because she knew she wouldn't get adequate care in our dinky hospital.


My mother sat in her seat the entire reception.  Too weak to really do anything else.

I was embarrassed at how weak and sickly my mother was.  That wasn't her.  My mom was a strong, put together, proud woman.  The woman in the chair was sick and weak.

C's family was busy taking pictures and making sure we all got pictures together.

My family not so much.  As they should be- they were more concerned with the terrible shape my mother was in.  I look back at pictures and hardly have any of my family.  I didn't even get one of my mom, brother, and I.  How did this happen?  How did I not get one stupid picture of the people that meant the most to me?

At the end of the night, I grabbed our guest book, kissed my mom, skipped away, and was on our way out to the hotel.

That night I lazily read through the guest book.  I giggled as I thumbed through it.  I came across my mom's comments.  I hadn't recognized the hand-writing.  It wasn't hers.  It looked like some 80 year old woman's handwriting.  I saw the signature smiley face she always wrote on her notes.  This is when I stopped and thought that my mom isn't doing too good.

My mom and brother were staying in the same hotel.  I decided I needed to go check on her even if it was my wedding night.

I walked down the stairs and across the parking lot to the building they were in.  When my brother (who was 15) opened the door I saw my mom.  Curled up in a ball with all the blankets in the hotel room on her as well as a sleeping bag.  Her room had to have been in the high 70's too.  She wasn't okay.

Me-"Are you okay?"
Mom-"I'm fine."
Me-"Mom, it's obvious you are NOT okay.  Go to the hospital."
Mom-"No, the one here isn't good.  I'll be fine."
Me-"Mom, really??"
Mom-"I'm fine." and she curled up in a ball away from me.
I walk over to the other side of the bed.
Me-"Mom, promise me you'll go in the morning?"
Mom-"Fine. I'll go.  Now go enjoy your wedding night."
I told her I loved her and left her room.

We decided we would go on our real honeymoon 6 months later so the day after the wedding we went to Phoenix for a few days for our pre-honeymoon.

My mom was supposed to leave her hotel room the morning after the wedding. 

While in Phoenix I got a call asking why my mom hadn't left the hotel yet.  I was mortified.  C's family owned the hotel and had allowed her to stay for the wedding free of charge.  And she had overstayed her welcome.  Why was my mom still there? 


I called my mom and she said she just felt too sick to drive.  I was embarrassed because it made her look like a moocher to my new family. 

My 15 year old brother ended up driving them to Phoenix.

A few days into our trip my mom called. 

Mom-"Hi sweetie.  The doctors told me whats wrong."
Me-"Oh ya? Well what is it?"
Mom- "They said that my liver isn't functioning well.  And I did it to myself." I could tell she was fighting back tears.
"They said if I get better I might be eligible for a transplant."
Me- "I'm sure you will be get better soon."


I didn't think my mom was this sick.  She couldn't be.  I didn't even believe that she'd need a transplant.  I figured she'd just get better.

I was mad.  I was mad that she was so sick.  I was mad that she had drank herself into it. My only real parent couldn't be sick.  I needed her.  My brother was 15, he needed her.  I couldn't raise my brother.  We needed her.  I disguised my absolute terror with anger.

I wish I were stronger at 20 so I could have processed my panic better.

Part 1: Why Medicine

If you are a pre-med there is one question you need to be able to answer and be able to put it into words; Why medicine?

It's a very personal reason and it's different for everyone.

My answer: My mom.

Before I delve straight into it, I think it's important to get a better view of me; how I got here and why.

This post will serve as part one of a multi part series on my "why medicine".

I started my undergraduate degree in Physical Education and then switched to Secondary Education: Biology when a Department Chair told me I was too smart to just teach PE. I loved biology and thought it would be a good, reliable job.

I was perfectly content with the idea of becoming a teacher.  Content.  Not excited or passionate but content.  This should have been my first clue but my self worth was also lacking and didn't think I was capable of more.

Why I thought this-

I grew up poor in a broken home.  My dad abused drugs and often neglected his family.  My mom worked full time, made it a point to cook dinner every night, make it to all of our games, school functions, and still made individual time for us. My mom had her flaws- she drank.   I can only assume to numb the pain of her own life.  She was an alcoholic but it was never more important than my brother and I.  We were her priority and she always maintained that.

I think most people who have attended college can say it is a time of self reflection, loneliness, and confusion.  I loved college but looking back there were plenty times I felt completely alone.

No one in my family had ever attended college and they were all very proud of me.  I felt like it would let them down if I was to say how hard it was some days.  Especially my mom-- when I talked to her she would always cry tears of joy while she told me how proud of me she was.  How was I going to tell her I was alone a lot and it sucked?  I wasn't.  I was strong and I could suck it up.  And I did and I figured out how to even enjoy it.

I got engaged and married to my high school sweetheart against a lot of people's wishes after my second year of college. But my mom was always my best cheerleader.  She told me she trusted my decision.

Growing up it was a lot of me and her fixing things and doing a lot of manual labor together.  Before we started she would always say, "Well how hard could it be." And this is how I've attacked everything in life.  

How hard could being young, broke, married, and in college be?  I can do this.

I had been a convert to the LDS church for a little over two years.  Everyone was encouraging/telling me how important is was for me to get married in the temple - except my non-LDS family - which was everyone.  I thought I was doing what God wanted me to do when I chose to alienate my entire family on my wedding day.  Many people even congratulated me on my decision to do so.  It was hard.  I wanted my dream wedding and knew that this was not it; but I thought sacrificing for God's wants were commendable and I should always try to follow God's wants.  I was doing the right thing, wasn't I?

It was a few days before our wedding that my mom showed up jaundiced.  Completely yellow.  I asked her why she didn't go to the hospital and she said "I know they wouldn't let me out and I wasn't going to miss this."  And she was right. 

I was angry.

How could she have let this happen to herself?

She was too tired to help me with anything.  How could she do this to me?  I had so much to do.  I was getting married in 3 days.

So I didn't do it.  I was embarrassed because if my mom wasn't going to help me, who would?  So I just let it happen.  Left everything for everyone else to do.  Because if I was going to have to have this traditional Mormon wedding, I just wanted to do the dumb decorations with my mom.


She couldn't get out of her hotel bed because the 3 hour trip had exhausted her.  And I thought she was just being a stink about me getting married at 20.  This was not how she had planned my life and I thought she was using this to get back at me even though she had already said she supported me.  And it embarrassed me.  I wanted my mom to be next to me with her input.

My feelings of my mom being sick clearly show how immature I was.  I'm not proud.  It hurts admitting to the world how selfish and dumb I was when I was young. 


I wish I would have been strong enough to feel compassion toward my mom and how bad she felt.

I wish I were stronger at 20 to have felt her pain more than mine.