January 2026
Rosie
Raya
,
RN-COB
L&D
NAVAL HOSPITAL CAMP PENDLETON
oceanside
,
CA
United States
I remember her embrace while I cried for my own mother during my epidural.
I’ve spent months going back and forth with myself. Is this weird? Is it too late? Does it matter? As I begin my own journey in healthcare, I’ve learned that no amount of time passed will ever be “too late.” It matters one thousand percent. Maybe it is weird, but oh well.
I delivered my beautiful baby boy at Naval Hospital Camp Pendleton, CA. This nomination is nineteen months overdue, but I would finally like to take a moment to recognize my labor nurse and my wonderful delivery team. Rosie is my why. I came in for a scheduled induction at 37+0. Just 10 days earlier, my husband, eldest son, and I had moved across the country for his job. My only options were to labor alone or to labor with my husband and our 3.5-year-old. I chose the latter. I labored alone, and I was fearful of being alone. My induction started like any other. I met Rosie. At first, my nerves clouded my judgment. I was angry and sad that this was my reality. I didn’t want Rosie - I wanted my husband. I wanted my mom. But within just a few hours, my anger settled, and the conversations began. Rosie and I talked about everything: my family, the move, my dreams. She told me about her role as an L&D nurse, her career in the Navy, and her family. Eventually, I hit a wall. After so many repositionings, monitor adjustments, and waves of pain, I decided to move forward with an epidural. I held Rosie's hand and leaned forward. I cried so hard, but she didn’t let me go. She wiped my tears and gently laid me back when it was over. The epidural left me bedbound, and the anxiety of lying there alone for hours crept back in. Rosie didn’t leave me for more than a few minutes during her entire shift. Shift change ripped me apart. I was angry again, angry to be alone, angry to start over with a new team, sad that this was my reality, frustrated that my body wasn’t ready on Rosie's shift. I was so fearful of experiencing this alone with strangers. What was my nightmare was just another day of work for them. But I wasn’t alone. I had my wonderful midwife, who encouraged me for hours that I could do it, that I was strong enough, and that she wasn’t leaving until I did. I had Dr. X, who helped deliver my baby boy.
My baby wasn’t quite ready to join us earthside, and just a few hours later, we were preparing to transfer to Naval Hospital Balboa in San Diego. I was still waiting for my husband to arrive with our other son when Rosie returned for her day shift. In one of our many conversations, she remembered that I liked Dunkin’ Donuts. She brought me a bag full of donuts and a huge coffee. The moments we shared before the transfer were brief, but I’ll always remember her embrace. She promised me everything would be okay—that I would be okay and that the new hospital was fully equipped to care for my son. I don’t remember Rosie for the donuts and coffee. I remember her embrace while I cried for my own mother during my epidural. I remember the conversations we shared. I remember Rosie's compassion. She lent an ear and a shoulder to cry on. Maybe I am weird. It’s been nineteen months, and I still think of Rosie every time my baby reaches a new milestone. One of the worst days of my life was just another day of work for everyone involved, but the care and compassion I felt that day still weigh so heavily in my heart. My once-NICU baby has blossomed into a silly ball of energy. The nurse who supported me through the remainder of my labor was wonderful, truly, but to me, that care does not compare to Rosie's. I hope this nomination isn’t too late. Rosie is a driving force of my “why”. She gave me comfort, safety, and humanity when I needed it the most. As I move forward in my own career, I want to emulate the same level of compassion and presence. I want my future patients to feel seen, heard, and held in the same way Rosie made me feel. She turned my fear into strength, and I carry that so close to my heart. So thank you, Rosie, from the bottom of my heart. You carried me through the beginning stages of labor and my send-off to the NICU. Thank you for being so kind on such a dark day. I no longer look back with anger; my delivery didn't go as planned, but grateful for the care I received while so vulnerable.
I delivered my beautiful baby boy at Naval Hospital Camp Pendleton, CA. This nomination is nineteen months overdue, but I would finally like to take a moment to recognize my labor nurse and my wonderful delivery team. Rosie is my why. I came in for a scheduled induction at 37+0. Just 10 days earlier, my husband, eldest son, and I had moved across the country for his job. My only options were to labor alone or to labor with my husband and our 3.5-year-old. I chose the latter. I labored alone, and I was fearful of being alone. My induction started like any other. I met Rosie. At first, my nerves clouded my judgment. I was angry and sad that this was my reality. I didn’t want Rosie - I wanted my husband. I wanted my mom. But within just a few hours, my anger settled, and the conversations began. Rosie and I talked about everything: my family, the move, my dreams. She told me about her role as an L&D nurse, her career in the Navy, and her family. Eventually, I hit a wall. After so many repositionings, monitor adjustments, and waves of pain, I decided to move forward with an epidural. I held Rosie's hand and leaned forward. I cried so hard, but she didn’t let me go. She wiped my tears and gently laid me back when it was over. The epidural left me bedbound, and the anxiety of lying there alone for hours crept back in. Rosie didn’t leave me for more than a few minutes during her entire shift. Shift change ripped me apart. I was angry again, angry to be alone, angry to start over with a new team, sad that this was my reality, frustrated that my body wasn’t ready on Rosie's shift. I was so fearful of experiencing this alone with strangers. What was my nightmare was just another day of work for them. But I wasn’t alone. I had my wonderful midwife, who encouraged me for hours that I could do it, that I was strong enough, and that she wasn’t leaving until I did. I had Dr. X, who helped deliver my baby boy.
My baby wasn’t quite ready to join us earthside, and just a few hours later, we were preparing to transfer to Naval Hospital Balboa in San Diego. I was still waiting for my husband to arrive with our other son when Rosie returned for her day shift. In one of our many conversations, she remembered that I liked Dunkin’ Donuts. She brought me a bag full of donuts and a huge coffee. The moments we shared before the transfer were brief, but I’ll always remember her embrace. She promised me everything would be okay—that I would be okay and that the new hospital was fully equipped to care for my son. I don’t remember Rosie for the donuts and coffee. I remember her embrace while I cried for my own mother during my epidural. I remember the conversations we shared. I remember Rosie's compassion. She lent an ear and a shoulder to cry on. Maybe I am weird. It’s been nineteen months, and I still think of Rosie every time my baby reaches a new milestone. One of the worst days of my life was just another day of work for everyone involved, but the care and compassion I felt that day still weigh so heavily in my heart. My once-NICU baby has blossomed into a silly ball of energy. The nurse who supported me through the remainder of my labor was wonderful, truly, but to me, that care does not compare to Rosie's. I hope this nomination isn’t too late. Rosie is a driving force of my “why”. She gave me comfort, safety, and humanity when I needed it the most. As I move forward in my own career, I want to emulate the same level of compassion and presence. I want my future patients to feel seen, heard, and held in the same way Rosie made me feel. She turned my fear into strength, and I carry that so close to my heart. So thank you, Rosie, from the bottom of my heart. You carried me through the beginning stages of labor and my send-off to the NICU. Thank you for being so kind on such a dark day. I no longer look back with anger; my delivery didn't go as planned, but grateful for the care I received while so vulnerable.