My Mother's Dream, My Path
By Laiken Crossen
Two years ago, I applied to nursing school. At the time, if someone had asked me why I wanted to become a nurse, I honestly wouldn’t have had a great answer.
On the first day of nursing school, our instructor told us to write down our “why.” She explained that there would be days when we wanted to give up, and she wanted to be able to remind us of why we started. I remember thinking, I don’t really have a why.
I had reasons. I thought about my husband and my girls. I wanted to make them proud. In my mind, that was my why. But the truth was, I didn’t really know my why yet.
What I did know was that the medical field had always been a part of my life. Both of my grandmothers worked in the medical field, and they truly raised me in it. Some of my earliest memories include helping with wellness and flu clinics, screenings, and working alongside them in different settings—from factories to the clinic to the hospital. When I say, “The medical field is all I know,” I mean that literally. It has always been part of my life.
Then there was another piece of my story that I didn’t understand until later.
Before applying to nursing school, I found a mother/daughter book that my mom had left behind. While reading it, I discovered something I had never known; my mom had wanted to be a nurse. In my mind, I had always thought she simply wanted to be a mom.
There was another connection, too. I graduated from the same nursing program my mom’s mom had attended. When I look at all of those pieces now, I realize nursing wasn’t something that suddenly appeared in my life two years ago. It had been woven into my story for much longer than I realized. But I still didn’t understand my why. Not yet.
The Moment Everything Became Clear
The last week of nursing school was one I will never forget. The week before I took my finals, I left a job I had for eight years. It was a huge change—leaving something so familiar after so many years. Earlier that week, I finished my finals and schoolwork. I was exhausted. I had spent two years pouring everything I had into nursing school.
That same night, I received a phone call that a close family member was in crisis and attempting to end his/her life. I went to that loved one.
In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about nursing school. I wasn’t thinking about exams, clinicals, or everything I had learned.
I was family. I was scared. I was overwhelmed. I remember thinking, I have no idea what I’m doing.
I didn’t feel like a nurse in that moment. I didn’t feel prepared. I certainly didn’t feel like I knew what I was doing. I was simply trying to help someone I love survive.
Later, we were told that whoever was with this individual knew what she was doing. My first thought was, Yeah, yeah. They’re just saying that.
But as time passed, I began looking at that night differently. That family member had reached a place and believed he/she didn’t have a “why” anymore. That loved one believed it was time to end his/her life. I started thinking about my own “why.”
“If this journey taught me anything, it’s that life doesn’t always make sense while we’re living it. We don’t have to understand every step of the process; we just have to trust the One guiding it.”
Maybe this was it. Maybe God had sent me to nursing school so I would be prepared for that exact moment. Maybe all those long days, long nights, tears, prayers, missed family activities, exams, and moments when I wanted to give up had been preparing me for something I never could have anticipated.
I didn’t feel prepared that night. But maybe I was. The very next day after that life-changing night, I started a completely new job in a completely new role.
So, within days, I had gone from leaving an eight-year job, to finishing nursing school, to walking through one of the most frightening nights of my life with someone I love, and then starting an entirely new chapter. I went from one of the most familiar seasons of my life into something entirely new—while carrying the weight of what had happened the night before. It was a lot to carry.
A little over a month later, I took the NCLEX. I took it the day after the 15-year anniversary of losing my mom to suicide. It was one of the hardest seasons of my life. But somehow, I kept going.
For years, I thought I needed to know exactly why I was becoming a nurse. I thought my “why” needed to be something I could explain in one sentence. Instead, I think my why was something I had to live before I could understand it.
My mom wanted to be a nurse. My grandmother attended the same nursing program I did. My grandmothers raised me around the medical field. I spent my childhood surrounded by healthcare. I entered nursing school without really knowing why. I thought my why was simply my husband and my girls.
Then, on one of the hardest nights of my life, I found myself using what I had learned to help save someone I love. Suddenly, all those pieces that never seemed connected started to make sense.
I don’t believe I was prepared for that night because I was fearless or because I knew exactly what to do. I believe I was prepared because God had been preparing me long before I realized it.
Maybe my mom’s dream found its way to me. Maybe my grandmother’s path and mine crossing in the same nursing program wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe the medical field being all I had ever known wasn’t just something familiar—it was preparation. And maybe the reason I couldn’t see my why at the beginning was because it hadn’t happened yet.
Now, I wish I could go back and tell that version of myself: You don’t know your why yet. But keep going. One day, you’ll understand.
The journey wasn’t easy. There were tears. Long days. Long nights. Missed family activities. Prayers. Crying to God. Doubting myself.
To my husband and my sweet girls, who sacrificed time with me, cheered me on through the tears, and believed in me when I couldn’t: we made it. When my girls used to ask, “Mama, are you almost done studying?” I can finally say: Mama is done.
To my entire village—my family, friends, instructors, classmates, and coworkers who prayed for me and kept me grounded—thank you. You carried me to the finish line.
If this journey taught me anything, it’s that life doesn’t always make sense while we’re living it. We don’t have to understand every step of the process; we just have to trust the One guiding it.
Maybe the tears, the long nights, the sacrifices, the changes, and even the hardest moments were all part of something I couldn’t see yet. And maybe, in a way, my mom’s dream became part of my story, too.
I started nursing school searching for a reason. I finished it knowing my purpose. Maybe this was my why all along. I am officially a nurse.
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