The Way I See It...

Publisher's Letter 

Robin Rogers, Ed.D.

May 2024

The best moment of my life was the day my first child was born. I knew so little before that moment, though I thought I knew so much. My doctor was a man; I am pretty certain that Texarkana didn’t have even one obstetrician of the fairer sex back in 1994. The nurses, however, were all female. Those women nursed me through pains, scary moments, and the beginnings of motherhood. The OB-GYN may have caught Ellen, but just as quickly as he delivered her, he was gone, and I was left with one nurse who cleaned me up, one who cleaned up my daughter, and others who talked to me about how I would feed her, diaper her, and even burp her. I was terrified that I might hurt this tiny human who often cried for seemingly no reason and whose head flopped around if I wasn’t careful. I had never before changed the diaper of a newborn, and the diapers seemed to swallow my tiny baby. The nurses reassured me that I wasn’t going to hurt her and that her cries could be attributed to a few very specific issues. My nervousness was normal, and together, they would help me figure it all out.

Over the next day or so, my daughter was diagnosed with jaundice, and instead of going home, she had to stay in the nursery and hang out under an ultraviolet light until her bilirubin numbers leveled out. I was hormonal and cried as much as Ellen did, but it was the nurses who convinced me that this hiccup wasn’t a big deal and that we would soon be home together as a family. I had been discharged, but my baby had to stay at the hospital. So many other mothers have known that feeling, and without a doubt, it is the most helpless I have ever felt in my life. (My grandmother didn’t understand; in her day, jaundiced babies went home and you put them in the window or out in the yard without their clothes on.) My husband and I would go up to the hospital and feed our girl, try to bond, and pray for her to get better faster. It took almost a week for Ellen to be ready to go home, and as postpartum took its toll on me, the nurses at Wadley also nurtured me back to myself.

Over the years, I have thought a lot about the nurses who helped me deliver my three children. I still remember their names, and occasionally, I’ll get to catch up with them at the grocery store or a random function. I have so much respect and gratitude for them. Not only did they care for the medical needs of me and my babies, but they also comforted me, educated me, and empowered me—exactly what I needed when I was at my most vulnerable and tender.

It is a pure coincidence that, during this National Nurses Month, we have multiple Tribute to Women honorees who are nurses. Jenni Hedrick, who is on the cover, has a passion for L&D that is palpable. Sherry Missildine, too, exudes a sense of purpose in her work as a nurse practitioner. I have felt so inspired—and thankful—reading their stories.

We are also honoring many educators this month; in fact, the remaining seven honorees are all educators in some form or fashion. Debi Coleman, Rhonda Roberts, and Melodie White are all current teachers or school administrators in our community. Tiffany Pumphrey might not describe herself as a teacher, but she educates students every day on financial aid at Texarkana College. Mary Warren is a retired teacher who stays busy with education-related volunteerism. Mary Scott Smith, a legendary musician and semi-retired music educator, has touched innumerable lives with her talents. And Jeni Eldridge, the co-founder and executive director of Haven Homes, began her addiction-recovery work after a 30-year career in the classroom.

Teachers and nurses have a lot in common: they work long hours, are underpaid, and make a huge difference in people’s lives. It is no coincidence that career fields historically dominated by women are highly valued emotionally but widely undervalued monetarily. I wish I could change it; in a land I ruled, teachers and nurses would be among the most well-compensated workers in society. While I can’t personally fix unfair pay, I can do my part to uplift and honor these women through this magazine. Our team has worked hard to tell their stories, and I have no doubt that you will agree that they are worthy of their moment in the spotlight.

To all of the women who have raised, taught, cared for, loved, led, nursed, empowered, and challenged me: thank you for shaping me into the woman I am today. I encourage every person reading this to take some time today to reflect on the women who have influenced your own life—and to thank them. I heard a saying the other day: “Give people their flowers while they can still smell them.” I took it to mean that we should never pass up opportunities to express our appreciation to people while they are alive and well. I hope that we are all generous with the flowers—metaphorical and literal—to the moms and other women in our lives, this month and every month.

As always, thanks for reading FSLM.