I never thought I would find myself pregnant in the middle of my residency. I had spent years sacrificing sleep, social life, and even my own well-being to make it this far. Medicine was my dream, my passion, and my purpose. But suddenly, my world was flipped upside down by two pink lines on a test I took in the dimly lit call room at the hospital.
At first, I was in shock. I stared at that test, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. How would I continue my grueling schedule with morning sickness? How would I manage 28-hour shifts while growing another life inside me? And the biggest question of all—how would I do this alone? The father of my child, a man I had once trusted, made it clear he wanted no part in this journey. He suggested that I “take care of it” and move on, as if this new life I carried was a mere inconvenience.
I won’t lie—I felt broken. The weight of uncertainty was crushing, and there were moments I wondered if I could do this. But deep down, I knew I had no choice. I had fought too hard, worked too many hours, and poured too much of myself into my dreams to let this be my breaking point.
So, I did what I always did—I pushed forward. I continued my residency, waking up before the sun rose and coming home long after it set. I fought through the nausea, exhaustion, and swollen feet. I fielded judgmental stares from some colleagues who whispered behind my back, questioning my ability to be both a doctor and a mother. But I also found unexpected allies—attending physicians who encouraged me, co-residents who covered for me when I needed a break, and nurses who slipped me snacks when they noticed my energy dropping.
There were days I cried in the supply closet from sheer exhaustion, but there were also days when I felt a renewed sense of purpose. I was growing a life while saving lives. Every kick I felt reminded me that I was doing this not just for myself, but for my child. I wanted my baby to grow up knowing their mother was strong, capable, and unbreakable.
The moment I held my baby for the first time, I knew every sleepless night, every moment of self-doubt, every hurdle was worth it. Becoming a mother didn’t weaken me—it made me stronger. It reshaped my perspective on medicine, on compassion, on resilience.
Residency is designed to break you, to push you to your limits. But I learned that my limits stretched far beyond what I ever imagined. I didn’t just survive residency while pregnant—I thrived. And in the process, I discovered the fiercest, most determined version of myself.
To any woman facing the same journey, know this: you are stronger than you think. Your dreams don’t have to end when life throws you an unexpected challenge. If anything, they become even more meaningful. And when you look into your child’s eyes, you’ll know—without a doubt—that you are unstoppable.
There are many variations of passages of Lorem Ipsum available, but the majority have suffered alteration in some form, by injected humour, or randomised words which don’t look even slightly believable.