Truth Hurts

Each recovery is different just like each labor is. Yes I knew what to expect but I didn't plan for the unexpected.

Before surgery I had planned on my mom to help out when Dusty returned to work. But when it came time, I didn't expect it to be just here and there.

I expected the questions of how I was doing but not the constant asking of how many weeks so not that much longer until I should be off crutches.

I expected family to listen but was caught off guard when someone close laughed at my pain and told me to wait until I get old.

I expected I would remember my hospital stay but I don't even remember working with PT or the week. I must have been well drugged!


I expected the same pain level but I didn't think I would ever be asking my local ortho doctor for 4 refills because my muscles HURT! And with the last refill the doctor changed from percocet to tramadol. I have taken tramadol before but this time around I just reacted differently. So once it was gone withdrawals were horrible. Benadryl and calming tea to the rescue there.

I expected the emotional downfalls but not how it would hurt those I love, my husband. I dwelled on what my mom or other family members weren't doing. I let it get to me and in the process I spoke words of hate to the one I share my life with. While I dwelled on the lack of support, I was missing the help I was getting by my parish family. People I didn't even know were setting up meals to be brought in my home every Tuesday and Thursday for as long as I needed. I had a 4 older ladies from my parish call because they knew what a struggle I was having and how hard it was to care for my family that they offered to come over one morning to tidy up. They were the ones who called me to ask me how I was doing. It was a hipchick friend, Marcie, who would text me out of the blue just to check in. It didn't hit me just what I had until right around Christmas when I had an eye awakener.

I could continue on with dwelling in my misery or I could pick myself up and know that it would be hard but instead of relying on and expecting family to be here for me I would need to begin by accepting the truth. So I began to journal my frustrations. But at the end of each day had to search my soul for at least one positive.

In February, Dusty and I attended a Night of Romance. It was wonderful. The music was beautiful. I even wanted some of the songs on my ipod. The few songs brought such a calm to me. And now for Lent, I knew I could give up chocolate or pop. But I knew I needed more. And as simple as praying seems, I wasn't praying. I was neglecting God. I was so wrapped in my sadness and hurt that I forgot to talk to God. So on Tuesday when dinner was brought, the mother asked if I had a Mother Love prayer book. I did! She said how she had an extra one and wanted to give me her extra copy. At that point I knew what I needed to do. I needed to step back and pray. I needed to give up my selfishness. God has a plan for me and I need to learn to give myself to Him and trust Him.