by Bridget Burke (2013 Jane C. McDaid Scholarship Recipient)
In such an unprecedented year, it’s a relief that fall continues to be fall. Even this year, in the midst of a global pandemic, kids log onto their first day of (Zoom) school, families pick apples with masks on, and Starbucks rolls out their pumpkin cold brew coffee. It’s the most reliable season — and reliably, every fall, I reflect on the role the Foundation for Faces of Children has played in the woman I am today.
This fall, I’m turning 25 years old and wrapping up my first year as a pediatric registered nurse. I’m celebrating a birthday, but also celebrating my 25th anniversary of showing up to this world with cleft lip and palate. People spend their whole lives trying to find their “purpose,” the thing they’re most passionate about, the driving force that motivates them every day. I’m lucky — I was born with mine on my face. Growing up with a “birth defect” allowed me to recognize, accept and embrace what makes me different; in turn, this has enabled me to live everyday with compassion and fairness.
Of course, I didn’t have this wisdom my whole life. As a kid, when peers would ask about my lip, my responses were simple and matter of fact: “I was born like this!” Their reactions, as innocent as they were, stung: “Oh, that’s weird.” I became acutely aware of how others viewed me, and I internalized it — before I could even articulate what was happening. As I gained confidence getting older, insecurity lingered in the back of my mind.
During my senior year of high school, I applied for a Foundation for Faces of Children scholarship. In my essay, I wrote about my cleft lip and palate, and how ironic it is that the “incompleteness” of my physical face actually completed my purpose. To be honest, I’m not sure if I believed what I was writing at the time. Something compelled me to write it, and for the first time, I had the opportunity to own my “defect” for what it was — an asset. That spring of 2013, I was awarded a scholarship. I was proud of myself for owning the narrative around my craniofacial difference, and thankful for the opportunity to do so.
What I didn’t know then was how pivotal earning this scholarship would be. I’ve come to realize that this distinction meant more than financial assistance. Receiving a scholarship from the Foundation for Faces of Children was a whole community looking me in the eye and telling me that it’s worth investing in my confidence and self-esteem, supporting my commitment to furthering my education, and enabling me to develop into a compassionate registered nurse.
After 25 years, with a handful of surgeries, support from FFC, strength from two incredible parents and six very brilliant younger siblings, a couple of college degrees and a job as a pediatric registered nurse — I’m able to give the most valuable gift of making kids like me feel empowered and confident in themselves. Since receiving a scholarship, I graduated from UMass Amherst and completed my second bachelor’s degree at MGH Institute of Health Professions less than two years later. After I passed my registered nurse exam, I began my career in pediatric nursing at Franciscan Children’s Hospital — right down the street from where my journey all began 25 years ago.
This fall is special, to say the least. As I take off my mask after a long day of caring for a special pediatric population, and look into the mirror, I certainly don’t see a “birth defect.” I see the story of a young woman who consistently takes people for more than their “face value,” someone who rolls with the twists and turns and someone who could not be happier to share the vulnerable moments that contributed to where she is now.