-over 2,900 clinical hours individually
-over 600 class hours
-over 500 births as a class
-over a hundred sleepless nights
-thousands of loads of dirty laundry
-millions of pages of paperwork
Yet even with the grueling schedule, lack of sleep, and over-all difficult year, one of my classmates whose memory works in snapshots reminded us of the the good times midst the hardness: of times we came out of a water birth soaked to the bone and doubled over with laughter; of blowing kisses at each other while cleaning clots out of drains and rinsing off moms; of joyous melodies wafting out of the backyard shack where someone must be scrubbing blood, guts, grit and grime out of the sheets; of stories shared and hearts heard while dosing off in between births; of midnight baking parties while a mom's birth process is going slowly; of hard times where a simple touch brings torrents of tears; of the stillness and serenity of the deep darkness that comes before the morning; and, always, of the hope that comes with the first rays of morning light and a new day: a reminder of the beauty of life in the trenches.