Counselor's Personal Log #1 - "Hopes and Dreams, Mothers and Daughters"

Posted on Sun Sep 13, 2015 @ 7:20am by Lieutenant JG Noelle Bennett M.D.

913 words; about a 5 minute read

When I first learned of my assignment to Deep Space Five from my supervisor at Starfleet Medical, I fully expected to be busier than I had been in a long time, or possibly, busier than I had in my entire career. The sheer size of the place is enough to give even the most experienced Starfleet officers pause. With over 100,000 residents, not to mention the transient population that comes in and out on a regular basis, I had to question whether I was prepared to take on a staff position within the infirmary and counseling department, let alone a leadership position. Frankly, some of my colleagues even lovingly questioned my sanity.

Stronger than my fear, however, was my desire to make a difference in a number of arenas that others with my training could only hope to accomplish if they lived 1000 years or possibly managed to clone themselves 20 times. The chance to collaborate with the Border Research Institute alone was enough to get me to pack my bags. As much as I now enjoy interacting with people and using my knowledge and skill to help them heal and to improve their lives in a practical way, before I joined Starfleet, I was a social scientist at heart, more comfortable asking questions about behavior and finding answers through my research than I was establishing and maintaining relationships to find my own answers. In fact, it was several of my papers on the psychological impact of long-term space travel that ultimately sent me on my path toward Starfleet. I still think about that sometimes and wonder where I'd be now if that had never happened, if by chance, someone else had beaten me to the punch or if their work was seen as just that much more interesting or timely…

Besides the research institute, I also looked forward to collaborating with the Federation Marshall Service and the station's extensive security department. One advantage to having access to such a diverse group of law enforcement personnel is they often have an appreciation for the variety of expertise that can be useful for protecting others, investigating crimes, or apprehending criminals. If I was lucky, I knew I wouldn't have to prove my competency with 50 types of weapons or 100 forms of hand-to-hand combat to earn the privilege. There's something incredibly challenging and rewarding about helping to put together psychological profiles, assessing the psychological competency of suspects, or just helping traumatized crime survivors and witnesses tell their stories. I hoped I might build relationships with the team and earn the right to work alongside them.

Lastly, but certainly not least, I couldn't wait to provide emotional support and medical expertise to the station's population as a whole. I expected the infirmary alone to feel like home, buzzing with people and specialists of all stripes. If I'm being completely honest, I also hoped I would get the opportunity to deliver a baby or six. It seems like a lifetime ago now, but before I'd ever even dreamed of entering space, I was studying obstetrics. My mother was a nurse midwife, and when I was growing up, her stories about the mothers she worked with and the babies she'd held were magical because they had a way of lifting my mother's black moods like nothing else. My own experiences as an obstetrician have a similar effect on my mood, but to this day, every time I hold a child I helped bring into the world, the awe I feel toward this magical process is dwarfed by the joy I feel because such an experience elicits memories of when the bond between my mother and I was its strongest. I reveled in our connection, our discussions of the work we shared, of feeling like I belonged to her in that primitive but powerful way that defines mothers and daughters.

Mothers and daughters...

For all my hopes and dreams surrounding my assignment to Deep Space Five, it's not work with the Border Research Institute or the Federation Marshall Service that preoccupies my thoughts. Instead of something outside of myself troubling my mind, I instead find myself treading over a path that is as familiar and yet as foreign to me as my own heart. I want to help the Captain deal with the absence of her daughter, and in a clinical sense, I know I'm prepared to do that, and yet, as I watch her struggle with her loss, I can't seem to escape an overwhelming and agonizing truth.

The Captain lost her daughter. My mother chose to walk away.

My parents loved me and gave me everything I could want or need as their only child, but when I decided to assert my independence and entertained dreams of Starfleet, my parents, especially my mother, pulled away from me emotionally and physically so abruptly, I honestly remember thinking I was losing my mind. Suddenly, my desire to do something different with my life outside of London was viewed as a lack of gratitude for all I had been given. I realized then I wasn't just a gift to help my mother get over the loss of their first child, I had become her entire universe. My parents haven't forgiven me for leaving them, and I know my mother isn't doing well.

Watching the Captain now, I can't help but wonder if I'm about to watch another mother deteriorate, this time before my very eyes. I pray this time I can make a difference.

 

RSS Feed