When I was little I had many attempts at keeping a daily diary. It never worked. I would write furiously for days or even weeks, but then I would miss a couple of days. I would feel overwhelmed by all the news I had to impart on those missed days and put it off a few more. Then I would have multiple ideas on what to say and couldn’t decide so I would put it off further. A week or two would go by and I would be – literally – paralyzed by my own inaction. How could I possibly just start new?
Clearly, I haven’t left everything behind.
I have been wanting to write for a while now, but have been paralyzed by that same feeling – how much I have to write! how many thoughts! how much news! Today I decided – screw it. I’ll write what I can. The evolution continues.
I have recovered greatly from my surgery. I still can’t sleep on my stomach and have some weird sensations and twinges, but I feel pretty normal given the fact I have giant plastic balloons in my chest. I am still working on my stamina – I did get the clearance to start exercising again – and strangely, I was elated! I never much liked exercising for its own sake, but the inability to even go for a fast walk for so many months left me feeling like a shell of myself. Just being back on the soccer field to help with my son’s soccer tournament coaching was a joy. And, exhausting.
I have enjoyed the fact that as I improve, the ripples of that improvement spread across our entire family. My husband suddenly seems lighter – I am able to help shoulder the burden in a meaningful way. We are talking about the future – traveling, next year’s school year – and it is starting to feel almost normal.
And the children are elated that I am up, around, helping, playing.
Henry, the oldest at a mere 7, is processing. Always. We have had a myriad of conversation over the past weeks I didn’t expect – about the Boston bombings, the Cleveland rescues, Austin bond elections for schools. (No I didn’t bring these up – thanks school!) But the conversation seems to often come back to my health. On Friday night, he wanted to go out to dinner to celebrate Mommy feeling better again.
This weekend, Mother’s Day, I didn’t take naps, we went for a hike … it was blissfully normal. And yet, at the end of the day Henry would ask about my last surgery – when was it? what was it? did I have stitches?
I feel guilty that I am not sharing the details of this reconstruction with them only when I am evading questions in those conversations. I know that there is too much information for them to process, and that they just need to see me recover, and to them, I am there. They are especially excited that I have bangs 🙂
Much of what I have learned on my journey is with me – a sense of calm, understanding my health is important (yes I am still drinking the green smoothies daily and amazingly haven’t gotten sick since I started – three months!). And, I have more patience. It manifests itself in small ways – helping Emmy read, or walking with Carter to the kiddie pool and back for the fourth time. Or answering the question from Henry for the fourth night in a row – are you almost all better, Mama?
Yay, he says and opens his arms wide for another hug