The Things I Carry

    The things I carry are very important to me and the deeper meanings of things are just another part of this intricate and emotional story of my life. These intangible things that I carry will always stick with me, influence my decisions, and make me who I am. I did not choose to obtain these memories or carry these burdens, they were inevitably bestowed upon me.

    As a child, I believe you would've refer to me as a very privileged or maybe even spoiled child. I
was always surrounded by love and affection, so I was very rich in that manner. My parents and family all referred to me as the happiest child they had ever met. Although this may sound like the ideal situation for most it was very confusing for my little mind. From the moment I was born, I was held to a high standard, I was the first granddaughter on my mom's side so I was always growing up around boys. Little boys can be rough sometimes, especially my wide range of cousins. I never really needed to worry about their horseplay though because I always had my older brother to depend on. As a little girl, I would look up to my knight in shining in armor, with that amount of gentle heroism, he must be my savior. I will always carry the warm memories of my brother's embrace. Looking back on it now, a ten year old being that accepting of a new little girl being suddenly inserted into his single child life and even taking some of his mother's attention away from him, must have been overwhelming. My brother adapted so well though, we were always so competitive, whether it was sports, simple board games, who could finish their plate first, even hopscotch, but he would always let me win. Although we have grown apart and began to approach adulthood, I will always remember the crazy road trips, the visits to the ice cream shop after he got out of school, and staying up all night laughing at the crazy words we would make up in Scrabble. I would bring Scrabble or some other board game to war if it meant I could play with people like my brother, meaning that they would let me win. The fun and games began to die down on the day after my fourth birthday, when my little sister was born. I dropped the football and picked up a Barbie. I didn't realize it then but my brother must have been devastated the day that he lost a friend and even more overwhelmed when another little girl was added into the equation, pushing him even farther away from the full attention of his mother. Growing up with a big brother taught me to be considerate and caring especially to children. He may also be a very big influence on my career choice, pediatrics.

    As a bratty four year old, there are several home videos of me being aggressive with my little sister after the never-ending sleepless nights filled with crying and whining. Once I became cognizant of my actions, I built a tolerance to the continuous screaming, tattling, and complaining. The sound of her screaming cry will always be engrained into my memory. Along with that are that are good memories when we would finger paint together, put on a show for our parents in the living room, or playing dress up with our pets. I will also never forget the sound of that hilariously contagious laugh she would roar. Her energetic buoyancy would always change the mood of the entire house, everyone would be wondering what Kendall was getting into when you could hear little footsteps and a shrieking giggle. It was a new role for me, rather than being the damsel I was promoted to being the protector of my defenseless little sister. I was tasked with sheltering her from the outside world, while fostering a playful and loving big sister that will always be there for her. I had to be the one to play board games with her, take her out to ice cream, and let her win competitions. I have to create those good memories for her because the good times are the ones that are going to stick with her just like they have with me.

    My little sister was even a ball of energy in the womb. I remember my fascination with the kicking and movements that could be felt on my mother's belly(which may have also influenced my career choice).  Although those movements were very interesting to me, they were very taxing on my mother. My little sister's drastic adjustments were stretching my mother's womb, causing her to go into bed rest for the last three months of the pregnancy. On the first day of preschool, the day after my birthday, my dad came and picked me up during nap time and told me that I was going to meet someone very special. When we arrived at the hospital, I remember holding my dad's hand and it being very sweaty and I just knew that something wasn't right. I knew this was the same hospital where we visited my mom. Why would we be here? How could the baby have come this early? I soon found out that my little sister was delivered early by C-section. She was born 2 weeks before her due date and it just happened to be the day after my birthday. My dad later told me that I gave him a little praying bear named Hope that I took out of my backpack so he could put it on the box that held my tiny little sister. That bear helped my mom through pregnancy and later became my sister's favorite toy. I would take that bear to war with me because of the symbol of hope it created for my family and it would hopefully help me get through it.

    When I was thirteen years old, my mother, the strongest person I know, was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer. That time period during her treatments was a very stressful time for my family. I became anti-social and depressed all throughout middle school, because I thought I was losing my best friend and my hero. While she was getting her treatments, I would just conceal my feelings and write letters to imaginary friends and just throw them away which would just make me feel worse. I will never forget that deep loneliness and I hoped that I would never feel it again. She did fight through the cancer and survived and it felt as if that piece that was missing was filled again. That didn't last long though, two years later the doctors ran a CAT scan and found something devastating. My role model had a large golf ball sized benign tumor at the base of her skull. This inoperable tumor, crushed us even more than it did the last time. If they were to operate, she would be paralyzed but if they didn't she would have to take medication that would change her. My mother chose what was best for her children, she decided to try and be the strong person that she is by taking the medication and maintaining her morals, but it didn't work. Her personality took a whole new turn, this medication was so powerful that it took away all the loving qualities that my mother had once possessed. I was completely alone,  I didn't even have my own mother to talk to or confide in. I just wrote in a journal that I still have and I look back on it to reflect the bad times and to remind myself to always look forward. I would take this journal to war and maybe even bring another, a blank one, for a fresh start. Since then my mother has stopped taking the medication and had radiation treatments to attempt to shrink the tumor.

    I carry the lessons my brother taught me, the good memories with my sister, and my mother's suffering. With these intangible things comes a tangible connection that is strong enough to make me feel secure, even in a war scenario. I have learned from all of these experiences and I plan to continue to have more things to carry as I continue my path of collecting more and more experiences.