I have learned so much in the past week. I have learned that I am not a superhero. I have learned that I cannot do everything. I have learned that sometimes you have to let others do for you and that I have lots of others who love me enough to just that. I have learned that I am married to a pretty darn amazing man. And I have learned that humble pie doesn't taste that bad.
See, I thought this surgery was going to go down differently. I thought I was going to be the super-patient who leapt off the surgery table and danced a jig. I thought I'd be home in record time. I thought I'd be able to do things myself as soon as I got home. I thought I'd be back in the office on Monday.
Instead, I had blood pressure complications and ended up not walking for much longer than even the "normal" APLF patient (much less the super ones). Instead, I had blood loss issues that made me stay in the hospital and away from my girls a day longer than expected. Instead, it took every ounce of strength and pain tolerance in my body just to roll over in bed. There was no leaping. There were no jigs. Instead, for what may have literally been the first time since infancy I was absolutely dependent on others to help me - and that experience has changed my life in unspeakable ways.
You all know that I like to be the one who does everything myself. Everything. Yet, here I am able to do barely anything. Though I get stronger each day, even one week post surgery I am still whipped and still unable to jig.
I laid in bed the other day listening to Hubby bathe the girls and get them ready for bed. I was not able to help; I can't even climb the stairs yet. I started to cry realizing they don't need me. At first, I was sad. I was convinced that if I were to die right there they would be okay. But as I laid there my sad tears turned into tears of joy as I realized - they don't need me. They would be okay. But they love me. They love me. Not because they need me around to do the laundry like hired help. They love me just because. I don't have to earn it. It is unconditional.
There isn't enough credit in the world to be given to Hubby this past week. Not only has he kept the house mostly up to my never-sit-down-there's-always-something-that-can-be-picked-up standards, he's been dad-of-the-year and even took them to church by himself, which is brave on a good day. I knew I had found a good one, but I hadn't realized just how good until now.
Speaking of good, the girls have been my little angelic nurses - Pumpkin doing all my "bending and picking up" for me and Bug providing constant daytime comedic relief and then, in the evening, just laying her sweet red head next to me for snuggles.
And I can't truly describe my humble pie without reference to the help of my parents. Again, for the first time since childhood, I literally have to have my mom bathe me and my pop to help me walk. Like Jesus washing feet, she sweetly knelt on the cold bathroom floor to shave my legs. And pop is here religiously each morning to shuffle .3 miles down the street with me in slow motion, cheering me on as though I'm finishing the Boston Marathon.
Then there are the friends who have brought food, sent flowers and trashy magazines, and just prayed their hearts out. Too many blessings to count.
I have never been one to let people do for me. Allowing them to this time has literally made my heart overflow to the point of aching with the love that I am surrounded by. Thank each one of you for everything. Thank you for showing me Christ's love and teaching me about humility. Thank you.
See, I thought this surgery was going to go down differently. I thought I was going to be the super-patient who leapt off the surgery table and danced a jig. I thought I'd be home in record time. I thought I'd be able to do things myself as soon as I got home. I thought I'd be back in the office on Monday.
Instead, I had blood pressure complications and ended up not walking for much longer than even the "normal" APLF patient (much less the super ones). Instead, I had blood loss issues that made me stay in the hospital and away from my girls a day longer than expected. Instead, it took every ounce of strength and pain tolerance in my body just to roll over in bed. There was no leaping. There were no jigs. Instead, for what may have literally been the first time since infancy I was absolutely dependent on others to help me - and that experience has changed my life in unspeakable ways.
You all know that I like to be the one who does everything myself. Everything. Yet, here I am able to do barely anything. Though I get stronger each day, even one week post surgery I am still whipped and still unable to jig.
I laid in bed the other day listening to Hubby bathe the girls and get them ready for bed. I was not able to help; I can't even climb the stairs yet. I started to cry realizing they don't need me. At first, I was sad. I was convinced that if I were to die right there they would be okay. But as I laid there my sad tears turned into tears of joy as I realized - they don't need me. They would be okay. But they love me. They love me. Not because they need me around to do the laundry like hired help. They love me just because. I don't have to earn it. It is unconditional.
There isn't enough credit in the world to be given to Hubby this past week. Not only has he kept the house mostly up to my never-sit-down-there's-always-something-that-can-be-picked-up standards, he's been dad-of-the-year and even took them to church by himself, which is brave on a good day. I knew I had found a good one, but I hadn't realized just how good until now.
Speaking of good, the girls have been my little angelic nurses - Pumpkin doing all my "bending and picking up" for me and Bug providing constant daytime comedic relief and then, in the evening, just laying her sweet red head next to me for snuggles.
And I can't truly describe my humble pie without reference to the help of my parents. Again, for the first time since childhood, I literally have to have my mom bathe me and my pop to help me walk. Like Jesus washing feet, she sweetly knelt on the cold bathroom floor to shave my legs. And pop is here religiously each morning to shuffle .3 miles down the street with me in slow motion, cheering me on as though I'm finishing the Boston Marathon.
Then there are the friends who have brought food, sent flowers and trashy magazines, and just prayed their hearts out. Too many blessings to count.
I have never been one to let people do for me. Allowing them to this time has literally made my heart overflow to the point of aching with the love that I am surrounded by. Thank each one of you for everything. Thank you for showing me Christ's love and teaching me about humility. Thank you.
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