Jillian, a Merced Mercy Medical health care provider shared what she loves to do during her Lunchtime at the stairwell during this Covid-19 pandemic.

Jillian shared some information about her past on Facebook, the following is what she shared.

Topics: My story, Bullying, Love, Loss & Growth. Read at your own discretion.

As a little girl, I would watch my dad put on his scrubs every morning, before heading out the door to work. My momma too!  She is a nurse & my dad was a doctor. An OB/GYN in fact. I am over the moon proud of them both, they both worked a great deal to get to where they were. At a young age, I was inspired. I wanted to be like them.

Long hours at their jobs (my mom worked nights so she could be with me during the day), and I was blessed because I felt like they still had all the time in the world for their little girl.  I was blessed to have never been without. I was blessed with an education. I was blessed with love.

The reason I write this, is not to brag, but to share. (A lot more than the reader bargained for 🤣) BUT We’ve has a lot of time on our hands, so here’s a little (long-ish) story about things I’ve been thinking about.

My mom and dad, took me in love. They didn’t have too, but they did. I was adopted. Born of a child herself. She was undoubtedly scared, but loved me so much, that all she wanted… the best life for me.
I not only got that, but so much more.

I don’t think I believed in myself as much as my parents did, because I always knew I wanted to be in the medical field. Labor and delivery to be exact, and from a very young age.  (Note the scrubs).
I grew up going to the hospital and visiting the nurses, while my dad made rounds. I got to visit my mom at work at the hospital as well, and the setting and people were always fascinating to me, therefore I longed to be a part of it.

I also had my doubts of being smart enough. I was bullied a large part of my life. Times about being adopted (which I wasn’t phased by, because I was loved and knew it) but I was called stupid. Not just once, but all the time. Including by a teacher in high school who called me to the front of the classroom to figure out a math problem on the chalkboard. This is the first time I’ve spoken openly about it. I remember his exact words to me in front of my entire class. “How are you not figuring this out?  Are you THAT stupid?”  It scarred me, and I’ve carried it with me. The words played over and over in my head, and I can even still hear the voice saying it to me… the way I felt… my face turning a beet red… tears welling up in my eyes, as I stood there frozen, not sure what to do next. I don’t even remember WHAT I did next, but those words haunted me for years. So friends, be kind to others please. Words hurt. Words can scar, and they can’t be taken back.  This took place 22 years ago, and I can still feel it like it was yesterday.

Since I could remember talking, I asked my mom and dad for a sibling. Every day my dad returned home from work, I asked if he brought me a baby. My feet pounding the loose gravel from our driveway the moment he pulled in, just assuming that’s how it worked. (Going through our own adoption attempt right now, I wish it was that easy). One day, my dad took me to a baseball game (Giants vs Pirates in 1987 at Candlestick) and my mom was supposed to drive there to meet us after her noc working in the nursery. Well, a young lady came in and had delivered a beautiful baby girl & unbeknownst to me, my dad and I headed home because they had a surprise. We walked into the kitchen “sit over there on the floor” they say. My mom left the room & places a real live baby girl in my arms. “Can we keep her?!” And my dad (somewhat a jokester and smartass at times (sorry dad)) comes back with a “no honey, this is an ugly baby”. I argued him at 5 pleading to keep her. Enter Hanna Zoë 💓.

We got her for 21 years before the Lord called her home. That’s all I got to say about that
-Forrest Gump

Fast forward. At the time of her death in 2009, I was on the wait list for the LVN program and working as a CNA. I found some comfort and release in singing karaoke. Standing up with a mic in my hand and singing in front of complete strangers. It gave me a rush. A sense of power. A sense of happiness & a sense of normalcy for a few moments. I was hooked on singing & the rest is history.

While in the nursing program, I went to karaoke once a week. It was my therapy, for the above mentioned reasons. I kept this up along with a full time job as a CNA during the program. I had love and support from my family, and my husband. The constant support of love, and remembering that my parents and husband had faith in me, to become what was my destiny, and I thank the Lord, because I don’t know how else I would’ve made it otherwise.

I graduated from the nursing program in 2011 and became an LVN and began my training in L&D as a surgical tech, as well as post partum. I passed my boards the first time around (which is weird because I am a horrible test taker. I blanked every time something was placed in front of me).

In that moment that I opened my letter, telling me I passed, I wanted to go right up to the professor who asked me if I was stupid and show him, just how much I WASN’T.  I felt on top of the world.

Ever since, I have been working in my field of choice.. in the department that was my dream, and I couldn’t imagine if I had given up, just because others thought I was stupid. I did it!!!

Forward to 2017. I lost my hero and friend, to an ugly and quick onset of dementia and Alzheimer’s immidiately following his retirement. He is also the reason I have decided to do my own singing in the stairwells. My dad used to go up and down the empty hospital stairwells (with amazing acoustics) singing church hymns and opera. The nurses knew he was on his way 💜. He also was such a positive person, and laid hands on the dying, offering words of encouragement, love & grace.  Praying over them and with them. THIS is why I wanted to adopt doing something like this during our current pandemic.

For my friends and family, for all the bullies, for the lonely, for the sick and dying, for our service men and women, our doctors, nurses, our store clerks, prisoners, and for the entire world. Every country, every city. And for my father. My hero. Stairwell singing is for you. It is my sanctuary, and I pray for everyone. We will make it through all of this together.

This post was inspired by lots of thinking, a douse of Valor & Joy, and a lot of extra time.

Please be safe, wash your hands and enjoy your family.  If you don’t have one and are lonely, feel free to message me & we can talk!

#nurselife #momlife #stairwellsinger #songofhope #positivity #love #mystory

(We do not own the rights to the song.)