Of awe. And practicality.

"What's your earliest memory?"        

I have always vehemently disliked this question; hypersensitive to the pending paradox that the answer could be too deeply revealing and expose a vulnerability, or alternatively illustrate a sense of shallowness (I mean, what would it say about me if my first memory is eating a really great burger when I was 12?)

But recently I find myself trying to sit in this uncomfortable place. (I'd say lean in to this uncomfortable space if I didn't consider the term so trite). I heard Anna Sales' podcast about being in the presence of things you don't understand, and the value of sitting in that vastness and awe. And it occurred to me that those things are related. Indeed, what is more vast than contemplating the things that are tattooed in your mind, and how they might help in chronicling where you are today?

And when I thought this way, I realized. It makes a lot of bloody sense.

My first memory is of a hospital procedure room* that I now know is the one I was taken to after a car accident when I was 2. The person I was with (my mum maybe?) was taken out of the room, I think maybe being too distraught to stay and I.was.terrified. (And hey - no judgment here. There is no harder thing that I have ever experienced than seeing someone I love in pain, and not being able to do a damn thing about it).

Since that time in 1982, I have pursued a clinical profession. Not only that, a specific clinical profession somewhat shrouded in awe. It occurs to me that this path is very likely influenced by this early memory - of needing to have control in a clinical environment.

I am forever a sonographer. And there is undeniable awe to having the privilege to see things, know things, about people before they do.

Somewhat in conflict with this, however, is the scientific nature of the diagnostic world in which ultrasound resides. For instance, I can tell you are having a healthy baby, but does anyone ever really truly understand how the amazing process of embryology ever really happens in the first place? I can tell you that you have stage 4 breast cancer, but can anyone tell me why this far predominantly seems to happen to just the nicest of nice people?

It occurs to me. Leaning in (there all right - I said it) to discomfort, asking the hard questions** of oneself, and reflecting on a personal narrative may well help us find a sense of control in the vastness. And that may just help us to make decisions that make us happy in the process. And this, friends, can only positively impact our professional and personal interactions.

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*but if ever pressed at a party, you better believe I will revert to my 12-year old tasty burger version

** note to self: read this book