10/15/2026
I didn’t expect this picture to make me so emotional. I keep looking at that little girl, wishing I could tell her a little about how her life turns out.
Growing up in Lebanon, hearing bombs and sitting in shelters, I remember being scared and not knowing when it would be over. I couldn’t have pictured the life I have today.
I wish I could sit beside her and say, “One day, you’ll become a doctor. You’ll own your own practice. You’ll help people feel good about themselves and give them a reason to smile without hiding.”
“And you’ll have two children. Just wait until you meet them. You have no idea how much you’re going to love them.”
But there’s so much between that little girl and the woman standing here that a picture can’t show.
The anxiety. The years of building a practice while raising a family. Trying to give everyone my best and still wondering if I was doing enough. Going through burnout and not understanding how I could love my life and feel so overwhelmed by it.
I’m still learning to give myself the same care I give everyone else. My faith has carried me through so much. And sharing my story now, through my podcast and conversations like this, has given me a way to connect with people beyond my office.
I wish my parents were still here. There are moments, even now, when I just want to call them. Tell them about my children. Tell them what I’m working on. Hear their voices.
I don’t stop very often to feel proud of myself. There’s always something else to do, something I think I could have done better. But when I look at her, I don’t think about any of that. I just want to hold her and tell her how far we’ve come.
Little girl, I wish you hadn’t needed to be so brave so young. There’s so much ahead of you. People to love, work you’ll care about, and happiness you can’t imagine yet.
One day, your mornings will be quiet enough to sit with your coffee and hear nothing at all.
We get to have those mornings now. 🤍
