Coming to you live from the well-established butt imprint on my couch.
I’m wearing designer day-three hair, perfumed with coffee breath. I was supposed to “get ready for the day” an hour ago when I put Stevie down for her nap. But I was too tired.
I was also supposed to come up with a witty hook line for this blog. But that’s drafted in a word document on another device and I’m too lazy to go get it.
Hi. It’s been 466 days since my last post.
As an overview: I had an immensely easy pregnancy, labor, and actual birth (18 minutes of red-faced pushing and boom there she was). What followed was a relatively “easy” newborn. In fact, 8 months later she remains the chillest of chill humans and I still can’t believe she’s real.
An apparition couldn’t bite me on the nose and call me “Bob” though, so we’re good. She’s real. And I can’t remember much of life without her.
But technically that’s not why I’m here.
I’m here because Shady’s back.
And by “Shady” I mean endo–we think. Of course we can’t officially know until we open me up and take a look. But the pain is back every day since January, my cycles are wonky, my acne is worse than middle school (like, gross), and nothing is really working.
Me and my gyno have blasted through all the standard “treatments” with no luck. As a souvenir though, I did pocket 64 days of bleeding (and counting). #SponsorMeAlways #MaxiPadAmbassador
Joking coping mechanism aside–in 5 years this is the hardest it’s ever been.
Because I’ve never done this chronic pain thing with a family of my own. I’ve never had to suffer next to my husband and watch how it impacts him and affects us. I’ve never had to put all my energy into faking a smile for my daughter when I’m depressed from all the pain.
Sometimes I can’t play with her. Sometimes I cry when she wakes up from a nap because I’m not ready to move.
I’m not ready to be here again.
One night after a couple glasses of wine and a good cry, my mom started telling me how it’s interesting my stuff seems to be coming back now when so much endometriosis awareness seems to be building. She told me I have a strong voice and could really be an advocate.
A few days later she asked if I was going to start blogging again.
“Not until I have something uplifting to say.” I told her.
She said maybe I didn’t need to wait until I was “feeling positive.” Maybe the honesty could still help someone.
So here I am. Struggling. And I don’t have any sunshine to suckerpunch you with at the end of this blog. I’m afraid this sh*t wont quit. I’m afraid my daughter will grow up feeling like I’m not fully there. I’m afraid I’ll be up against some big decisions soon.
I’m just plain afraid.
And I’m 13 days away from a consultation for my 5th surgery. Yep. 5th.
Welcoming all prayers, all “chronic disease and marriage” advice, etc.
But also welcoming conversation too–if you’re dealing with chronic fill-in the-blank and you need to talk. Because that stuff is dang hard and talking is good even if it doesn’t result in some sort of “solution.”
I didn’t think I’d find myself here again, but here I am. And maybe you’re here too.
Why this is happening and why now…beats me. I haven’t had that “purpose” revelation yet. So for now, all I can do is do my best to walk through it trusting the “why” will show its face one day.
Until then, I’ll try to update this dang thing at least a little more frequently than every 466 days.
But no promises.