Being an OB-GYN,
I imagine, is a lot like playing center midfield.
You are asked to be calm in the chaos, steady when the field opens into uncertainty. To trust the years of training stored quietly in your muscles and mind, carrying you from one half to the next.
You learn the lows of the beautiful game so even the smallest victories carry weight. You keep your head up, aware of every moving piece: where your team stands, what each person carries, how your voice can guide them forward.
You lead with precision, with instruction sharp as a perfect pass, with encouragement that steadies tired legs.
And yet, this game is different all the same.
Because the reward is not a shining trophy with your name engraved in gold.
Sometimes it is an upset patient, an M&M conference, another sleepless night that bleeds quietly into morning.
But still, there is meaning in showing up. In knowing you used your hands, your judgment, your compassion, to make someone’s hardest day softer.
And even when you miss the open goal, or stumble through a presentation, the light guiding you never fades.
Because it was lit long before you, carried by those who came before; steady hands passing the torch forward through generations of tired nights and hopeful mornings.
And now,
it is your turn to carry it.
