This September marks four years since I officially stepped into my role as an academic faculty Maternal-Fetal Medicine physician.
Recently, I found myself rereading
a post I wrote back in 2013 about my third-year OB/GYN clerkship. It is amazing how so much can change and stay the same at the very same time. The heart of the work, the calling, the joy, and even the tension—it’s all still there, just expressed through new experiences and responsibilities.
By the Numbers
I never feel like I have done enough, or I underestimate what I have done, so sometimes it helps to quantify the journey. Here’s a snapshot of the past four years:
>1,000 pregnant patients cared for (and double or triple that if you count the babies)
17 invited lectures and talks (soon to be 18!)
16 weeks on call
8 papers published
6 conferences attended
3 clinical sites served
2 local committee appointments
2 national committee appointments
2 awarded grants
- 2 research projects as primary investigator (PI)
- 1 board certification
1 directorship in medical student affairs
1 legislative testimony delivered
Whew. She’s been busy—and yes, she has the receipts.
The Clinical Core
Clinically, I find joy and purpose in supporting people through the ups and downs of pregnancy. Pregnancy is rarely simple—emotionally, physically, or socially. Every patient brings a new challenge and a new opportunity to learn. As our healthcare systems evolve (and sometimes struggle), the complexity of clinical care seems to grow year by year.
I aim to be a source of steadiness and clarity, helping patients feel informed and empowered to make decisions right for them and their families. It is a job that I do not ever take lightly and feeling the weight of that responsibility can be so heavy at times.
It is why the residents know me as the attending who ends her service weeks by buying herself a present...hey, there are worse ways to deal with stress, right?! #TreatYoSelf
The #BlackGirlMagic call team during my last service week
Advocacy: Still Speaking the Truth
In my advocacy work, I continue to focus on the Black maternal health crisis. One thing I didn’t anticipate early in my career was how often I’d still be explaining the same truths: that the structures and systems in our country directly impact health. That inequity is not theoretical—it’s lived. That centering the needs of the most vulnerable helps improve outcomes for everyone.
Despite that, I’ve been incredibly grateful for the platforms I’ve been given. Public speaking still makes me nervous (thank goodness for propranolol!), but I’ve learned to channel that nervous energy into purpose. If sharing my expertise and lived experience can move us even one step closer to equity, I’ll keep showing up.
Speaking on a panel about using data to advance health equity
Indiana ACOG 2025
Supporting the Future of Medicine
I also didn’t expect that I would have a formal role in medical student education—or how meaningful that work would become.
Suture lesson
Last month, I had one of those full-circle moments. I helped "coat" our newest third-year medical students during their White Coat Ceremony—a rite of passage that signals the beginning of their clinical journey. Watching them step into their future reminded me of my own white coat ceremony, my own dreams, my own fears.
And it reminded me how far I’ve come.
White Coat Ceremony 2025
The Quiet Question
Here’s something else I didn’t expect: that after all the training, all the sleepless nights on call, all the sacrifices—there would still be a small, persistent voice inside asking: Am I enough?
During training, medicine feels like the center of your universe. But once you emerge from that intense orbit, you begin to realize that what truly matters has nothing to do with titles, publications, or accolades. What matters is:
These are the constants. These are the things that ground me—through every triumph, every challenge, and every new chapter.
Thanks for reading. Whether you're just starting your journey in medicine or you’re deep into your own version of the work, I hope you know: reflection is powerful, rest is necessary, and growth is ongoing. Here’s to continuing the work—with purpose, with joy, and with grace.
xo.
