Tuesday, December 30, 2014

from the land of slow, sore moving

That was an accidental break from blogging if I ever did see one.

It all started out with work getting really, really unexpectedly busy. That's my first excuse.

My second excuse: what was supposed to be an outpatient surgery (another laparoscopy to clean out my endometriosis, another step in the secondary infertility journey) went wrong. The doctor accidentally perforated my colon (!!!). That's right: cut. In my intestines. It's one of the risks and while rare, it does happen. So what was supposed to be a few teeny incisions and an easy recovery ended up resulting in open surgery with a 6 inch vertical scar down my abdomen to prove it, along with a 4 day hospital stay with IV antibiotics (among other things!) pumped into my arm. That was all a week and a half ago, and so I've spent the last 11 days ever so slowly on the mend.

The good news? They caught it when it happened, during the procedure and were able to fix it right away (apparently this isn't always the case). Thankfully. The not so good news? Recovery has been a B, worse than my cesarean. The pain, the swelling, the awful gas that they blow you up with. The first 48 hours especially were rough. And that 6 inch scar: oh, my. Not what I was expecting.
excuse my holy paleness of a midsection
 Aside from that, they did actually find and get rid of some endometriosis, so that's a good thing and somewhat of a consolation. Least we did what we set out to do, you know?

So December was a month of extremes—going from a crazy busyness to a full stop. Instead of 0 to 60, the other way around. All things told, most days I've got this in perspective: I laid in the hospital bed so thankful that they had caught the mistake as soon as it happened. I watched the antibiotics drip, drip, drip, and worried over getting an infection, and again, was so thankful with each passing day and no sign for alarm. I tensed over getting blood thinner shots in my stomach but tried my best to take them gratefully, since we don't mess around with blood clots and strokes in this family.

But I'd be lying if I let you think I've got the positive attitude down pat. Because I so don't. I've had my "why me?" moments; I've cried tears over not being able to pick up Ingrid, over feeling crappy, over hurting, over my scarred stomach and everything that was cut in there and will it ever look normal and be sort of flat again? Maybe, maybe not.

And all at the same time with those downs have been the ups: visits to the park in small doses, walks up and down the driveway and Christmas at my parents, a little 15-month-old looking (and acting) ever more little girl than toddler.

So that's the update from here. No grand epiphanies, no profound words to close out the year. Just riding the ups and downs, counting our blessings over here.

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