I am writing my story through tired eyes, elbow-deep in the trenches of newborn life as I look down at my 8-week-old son in disbelief that this much time has already passed since my admission to the Labor & Delivery unit.

Despite the chaos, laundry, diapers, and mental preoccupation that comes with this era I am in, there hasn't been a single instance in which I have reflected on my birth experience and haven't thought about the incredible nurse who helped me bring my son into this wild world.

I was admitted in labor at 38 weeks with my third son and second to be born at St. Vincent's. From a clinical standpoint, my pregnancy was very routine and low-risk. My chart was probably boring (not a bad thing), and I was actively progressing in textbook fashion.

But underneath all of that, looking past my G&Ps, demographics, and facesheet, I was completely alone with no birth partner, shadowed by the vicious complexity of single motherhood; prepared for baby at surface-level but more scared than I would have ever admitted if you'd asked me in the moment.

I had experienced a routine labor and delivery with my first and a very hard labor and delivery with my second; I had been on both ends of the spectrum. This birth, my third, was profound for a dozen and a half reasons, and I had something to prove to myself and the universe.

As an RN myself, I have a unique set of lenses through which I observe my own care as I am able to remain objective and generally unfazed by the routine motions. I am familiar with medical jargon, standards of practice, and especially the potential for an unexpected emergency or adverse outcome.

I was fully, 100% mentally prepared to go full-Karen and fire my nurse with confidence and minimal apology if it wasn't a good fit. Instead, 7 am rolled around, and an angel entered my room. She introduced herself as Katie May, my day-shift nurse.

The next 11 hours were spent as expected in many ways: physical assessments, fetal monitoring, repositioning, etc., but intertwined with all of that were moments of literal healing, solidarity, education, inquiry, and ultimately joy in its purest form.

Katie May met me where I was at and provided not only the highest level of professional nursing care and attention to detail, but exceeded my own expectations by being the most intricate component of what was ultimately the labor and delivery of my dreams and one of the most beautiful days of my entire life, as opposed to just an unremarkable, spontaneous vaginal delivery.

Through a myofascial massage heavenly enough to put a 6cm laboring woman to sleep, active and enthusiastic motivation during transition, and pushing to a quiet-spoken but steady and genuine acknowledgment of my own self-advocacy during transition, she was exactly who I needed during the entire journey.

My postpartum mental health has remained intact, and she contributed to that. I am capable, safe, and strong. She reminded me of these things. I cannot fathom an RN who embodies the profession more. I would not want another RN more than her to be at my side if there had been an emergency.

She is a gift to St. Vincent's and to every future patient assigned to her care. She is top dog; the bees' knees, the epitome of compassionate and skillful nursing practice.

Katie May, I will remember and cherish you for the rest of my life. Thank you, truly and from the bottom of my heart and soul.