It is more than our job,
Our profession,
Our specialty.

It is our life,
Our calling,
Our vocation—
A privilege.

Taking care of the sickest of the sickest children,
The most hurt,
The most wounded,
The most injured,
The most vulnerable among us,
The most precious of human beings.

The ones who barely have a voice—if they have one at all,
So quiet, it often goes unheard.
The ones who are hurt, not of their own doing,
The ones who had no luck,
No luck at all.
Who get so sick—it’s hard to fathom,
Who go so low, so deep, so far—few of us will ever know.

The ones who inspire us all,
Despite their struggles—or maybe, because of their struggles.
The ones with the strongest will to laugh, to play, to bounce back, to live—
To live life to its fullest, wildest, funnest possibilities.
The ones filled with joy, love, and imagination—
Boundless, inexhaustible.
The ones yearning for a life ahead of them still,
The ones with all the possibilities,
The ones who are our future.

We do it for them—
The kids who need us,
Who are going through what is hopefully the worst of their lives.
To ease the pain,
To lessen the suffering,
To get them through,
To help them heal and recover.
To break through boundaries of physiological possibilities.
To multitask,
To think quickly, interpreting tons of data points simultaneously when needed.
To make fast decisions,
To rely on decades of training and experience to use in the right moment.
To trust that we know what to do—even when we are not sure we do.

We don’t do it alone.
We have a team who supports us,
Without whom we would never be able to do this.
Mentors who taught us,
Colleagues who guide us,
Trainees who keep us on our toes.
Nurses who give so much of themselves—
To comfort much more than we ever could,
To give the warmest of care, the biggest of hugs, the most support of all.
Respiratory therapists who breathe with us.
Social workers we lean on to fix what we can’t.
Child life specialists who create magic, smiles, and giggles in the hardest of times.
Pharmacists who help us choose the most effective tools.
Administrators who keep it all going behind the scenes.
Consultants who give us the knowledge we need to guide the path to go.

We do it with them.
We calibrate this team.
We bark orders during crises when things are happening too fast.
We command the room if necessary.
We assign roles when needed.
We organize the chaos—or at least we try to.

We work on being strong and confident with each morsel of wisdom we earn,
Even if we feel like crumbling inside.
Strong for these kids,
Strong for their parents—
The ones whose love for their children is immeasurable,
Insurmountable.
The ones who would do anything for their little ones,
Who would take their pain unasked,
Who would change places in an instant without a second thought,
Who would die for them without a moment of doubt or hesitation.

We do it for them, too.
We do it to guide them through the hardest times,
To explain, to make it all make sense—even if it doesn’t.
To hold their hands,
To hope with them,
To celebrate the milestones with them,
To fight with them,
To cry with them,
To mourn with them,
To be there with them—if that is all we can do.
When they are so deeply alone,
Having to go through unthinkable darkness.
Talking about the unspeakable with them,
Asking of them the most unmakable decisions,
Standing alongside their worst.

We do it for them.
We do it for their kids.
We do it for our team.
We do it for each other.

We are willing to pay a personal price, too.
It might seem small, insignificant, meaningless in the moment,
Infinitesimal in comparison to what we see.
But over time, we pay it.
We sacrifice.
We sacrifice many weekends, nights, and holidays,
With our loved ones, our families, our friends.
We sacrifice care of our own bodies.
We sacrifice time off our lives.
We gladly pay it,
But we pay it.

We sacrifice sleep, nourishment, hydration.
We sacrifice normal cortisol levels many days.
We sacrifice parts of our health and our well-being.
Our kids feel it, our spouses, our families.
Often not present, distracted, distraught,
Sad or upset—not at them,
But for what we have seen.
Mourning for the ones we couldn’t save.
Aching for the pains we couldn’t prevent.
Imagining the hurt.
But we gladly do.
We sacrifice a piece of our own selves,
But we willingly do.
We would do it all over again and again—
For the tiniest difference we hope we made.
We happily do.

We do it for the kids.
We do it for their moms and dads.
We do it for their brothers and sisters.
We do it for their families.
We do it for ourselves.
For each other.
Our communities.
Our society.
Humanity.

It is our calling.

Steffi Gauguet is a pediatric intensive care physician.