Becoming Her Took Every Version of Me

On a mild Las Vegas winter day I was given a monumental task: write 1300 words to tell my story for RISE Magazine. A few small challenges popped up. First, I don’t write. I went into medical specialties specifically to avoid writing extended theses. Second, writing about myself? I feel like I’m constantly fighting to keep up with my work demands, my kids and their extracurriculars, and maintaining a relationship with my husband, who is also busy.

Who could I possibly help with my chaotic life? I have a laundry list of things I want to do better, start, or stop doing altogether.

But maybe that’s the point. We all do. And if me sharing a little about my history helps me make sense of my chaos and helps another woman feel like she can relate, or maybe just appreciate that she’s more functional than the woman she’s reading about, or that her struggles are validated, then this article will have accomplished what I desire.

In spring 2013, I graduated with a Bachelor’s of Nursing with a unique opportunity compared to the 150 other graduates. I was the only one selected for an Intensive Care Unit opportunity. I was proud of my accomplishments but also confused as to why I was chosen. Sure, I had studied hard, but I didn’t have the highest grades in my graduating class. I was close to the top, but not the top.

One of my professors, to this day I don’t know which one, had a hand in my outplacement. I am grateful to them still. At that time, it capped a theme I hadn’t yet labeled. Even though I have skills and grit, the quiet influence and teaching of others is deeply influential to a person’s success. And one more thing mattered: being extremely teachable and having a good attitude about it.

If you don’t look closely, you may come to the incorrect conclusion that you did everything yourself. I owe so much to chance encounters, the caring thoughts of others, and dumb luck of timing.

I loved what I did and thrived under the pressure of caring for those in the most fragile states of life. It laid the bedrock for my future and demonstrated that the lives of those under my care were literally in my hands. If I messed up or was careless, someone already close to death could succumb.

A few years later, in my mid-twenties, I was a full-time worker, homeowner, and traveler in my off time. I had the life. Then came a decision most women must make, even if we don’t talk about it. In a matter of forty weeks, my identity shifted from Andi, traveler and nurse, to Mom.

I had worked for twenty-four years to be a reliable professional, and suddenly I was someone new in less than a year. The vote of who stays home is heavily weighted in a woman’s direction. Men can’t pump. Career progress charts show linear growth, but a woman’s career trajectory is not linear.

Women often leave the workforce early in their careers to start families, while men may step away decades later when they are already established. After the infant stage, what I lovingly call a career pause, I returned to the workforce in a much lower part-time capacity. It felt like multiple steps backward.

Then at twenty-eight, my life changed again. A divorce. I immediately had to return to full-time work and earn back my credibility. I was fortunate to land a position in a local emergency room near the Strip through chance, confidence, and a strong first impression.

Motherhood made me more empathetic. When I once brought my own infant to the ER with a dangerously high fever, I was made to feel incompetent by an overworked physician. I felt ashamed, then angry. I vowed to never make a patient feel that way. While reevaluating my life, I discovered Nevada allows Nurse Practitioners unrestricted practice. I jumped at the opportunity and entered a three year Nurse Practitioner program while working full-time.

During this time, I met my husband Zach, navigated a blended family, welcomed our son in 2022, and continued shaping my vision. Toward the end of my degree, I fell in love with pediatrics. Pediatrics is truly a calling. Insurance pays less, yet providers do it because they care. I learned from exceptional mentors, including Dr. Tony Bakerink at Wee Care Pediatrics. I learned how to listen, observe, and practice medicine with intention. I eventually became the highest-rated practitioner at the practice and was honored to be part of a two-time Best of Las Vegas award-winning team.

After nearly a decade of what I call a typical woman’s career trajectory, I was ready to build my own vision. I wanted a place where moms felt heard, where they had time to express not just concerns

about their children, but about themselves.

That vision became The Pediatric Collective. Our mission is simple: a place where moms feel heard and kids feel their best. We operate on a Direct Primary Care model, similar to a gym membership, allowing direct access, same or next-day appointments, and real relationships.

Las Vegas has one of the lowest practitioner-to-patient ratios in the country. My goal is to care for two hundred families deeply rather than thousands briefly. Traveling with your family and get sick? Call me. Let me help carry the mental load.

As I finish this reflection, I smile. The 2013 nursing graduate could never have imagined where she would be today. Purpose is not always discovered early. Sometimes it is earned through living. Thirteen years later, I finally know my calling, one that required every version of me to become.