Sunday, May 6, begins a week when the spotlight is on nurses. These amazing souls are truly on the medical front lines. They comfort, listen, stand firm when necessary, and always advocate for their patients.

The tasks they perform on a daily basis are more than just checking blood pressure, telling us to step on a scale, or asking us to brandish our buttocks for a dreaded shot. These people who carry out the orders of the doctors and care for those in need around the clock do what they do because it is in their nature to do so. They are born, not raised, to be nurses.

I know. My daughter is a nurse.

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She has been a caretaker since she was a little girl. Independent to the nth degree, she would never back down from a challenge and would always be there to help another soul in need. She has said since she was very small she wanted to be a nurse.

She is, and she amazes me every day.

She works at a short-term psychiatric hospital. My 4'11" daughter has come home with bruises and bite marks after a 12-hour shift, and she is unfazed. HIPPA laws don't allow her to share much, but she's mentioned having to go toe to toe with unruly patients who were much bigger than she is. Most people are! She gets frustrated when a patient isn't doing well; she wears that frustration on her face.

At the same time, she talks about her job with a smile most days because she is passionate. She won't leave work with paperwork undone, her patients not completely settled in, or her coworkers in a jam.

She's the phlebotomist, hand holder, go-between, advocate, medicator. Did I mention she's a great mother, too?

My daughter is one of my heroes.

I didn't raise her to be that way. I didn't raise her to be a nurse. She was born to be. She was born amazing.

I'm just lucky to be her mom.

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