Recovery Lessons

In a home full of kid messes and visual chaos, I'm glad I've been adamant about keeping my bedroom a sanctuary because I've spent most of the last two weeks holed up in here. Now that my Percocet is used up, I feel comfortable telling the Internet I'm recovering from back surgery.

This comes after four years of lower back pain that started just a few months after the birth of our third child. As I worked hard in high-intensity gym classes over that first postpartum year to lose the baby weight, my pain increased. A MRI in spring of 2014 revealed a vertebra 9 mm out of place, squeezing my spinal cord and putting added pressure on one of my discs. Unwilling to undergo surgery at that point, we opted for pain management. I tried epidural injections, which we stopped when their insane cost outweighed the minimal benefit. I noticed an increase in pain back this summer and had another MRI in July, and it showed the bone had continued to shift to 14 mm out of place (see image below). By the time I made it to an orthopedic surgeon in September, an x-ray revealed a further shift to 17 mm. That's about half the diameter of a vertebral body, the ortho reported, adding that if I put off surgery to the new year, I would risk paralysis. That prognosis being said, and seeing the image of a piece of my spine sticking out like a Jenga block, I was ready to be cut.

So on Sept. 26, I had a laminectomy and fusion of L4 and L5. That's right - I am now bionic, featuring rods and screws and prepared to hold up every airport TSA screening line. The procedure went fine, except my surgeons uncovered a tear in my dura mater, the sheath covering the spinal cord. Saying the tear likely was caused by a misplaced needle during one of my several epidurals (including one for each of my kids), one of the surgeons patched it. I spent the first 48 hours post-op flat on my back to allow the patch to heal and in the most intense pain outside of childbirth I've ever experienced.

I slept through most of the first several days, both at the hospital and home. Thankfully, my mother-in-law flew up from Orlando to help Aaron with the kids. We just hired a nanny to take over when she flies home, as I won't be allowed to lift anything for who knows how long.

The most comfortable position, well, doesn't really exist. However, sitting and standing for long periods bring worse pain than I had before surgery, so I'm horizontal most of the time. When I do get up, I have to wear the above-pictured back brace. I know what you're thinking - Where can I get one of those beauties? Well, not just anywhere. They are sold exclusively at my ortho's office and are so fab you don't even get to know how much they cost. Blue Cross/Blue Shield will inform you later. If you do manage to snag one, pair it with yoga pants and a makeup-free face to complete the look. Maybe a top knot for the hair - I really didn't have myself together when that photo was taken. Be sure to let everyone see you attempt to sit on a couch with it on, because stiffly rocking while trying to find your cozy spot (visualize a turtle caught on its back) is so chic.

This has been a humbling experience, to say the least. I love housewifery and motherhood, even if the latter exhausts and frustrates me to no end. I take a ton of pride - you know, that thing God says He hates - in caring for my family and making our household run smoothly. Aaron told me once that I have an addiction to being needed, and I've since discovered he is absolutely right. I delight in being capable and taking care of business. I love cooking yummy meals. Looking over a tidy home, despite the three kids and a dog, and knowing I made it that way makes me feel like I've beaten the odds. But the Lord has a way of showing His children when they've put themselves on the throne, when they've reveled in their own strength rather than in His. And I have been guilty.

Not being able to bend, twist or lift has left me with exactly zero ability to do my thing. Do you have any idea how many things I drop in a day? I'm asking my children to fetch things lest I have to pick them up with my toes (although I've gotten rather good at this). They've had to help more than they're used to, which actually is a big plus! The floors are dusty. What is that mystery smell in the kitchen? I don't even want to know what debris lurks under those couch cushions, but I'm dying to rip the couch apart to clean it.

Apart from coming to terms with my pride, I'm battling other troublesome attributes that haunt me, like perfectionism. Who cares if the kids have had a blanket fort pitched in the living room for three days? Really, Lord, do I have to wear the back brace? Really? I may or may not have been incredibly cranky with my family. You can ask them about that later, Lord help me. Humans are capable of doing the most awful things when they're in pain. I'm grateful that I just get salty and short-tempered, although that's bad enough for the family. I also carry an addiction to exercise and, with it, the terrifying premonition that when I graduate from yoga pants I'll discover I no longer fit into my regular pants.

We've established that pride in self is bad, but can I say with righteousness that I'm proud of my husband? He has completely re-arranged his everyday to fill in the gaps of my absence. He has encouraged and held me when I've burst into tears over the pain. And over nothing in particular - I was off my meds for a while, too.

And let me just say that I am so in love with the body of Christ! I can't even count how many in our community of believers came to visit me in the hospital. I may have been too drugged to recall what we talked about, but I will always remember that you were there! You prayed over me. You brought me flowers and sweet notes, care packages of boredom-busters and hot meals. You have arranged play dates to occupy my lively brood. You've shown up to walk my dog, who has loyally stayed by my bed-ridden side. How beautiful are the hands and feet, indeed!

You guys, it's so true that the Lord wastes no trial. He's working in my heart as well as my spine, and He always brings beauty out of the ashes. I've had more focused time to pray, not just troll Facebook and binge watch the first few episodes of This is Us, although I've done all of these.

What all of that said, thank you for walking beside me these last couple of weeks. Your friendship and fellowship has meant the world to me and my family. We love you and know our Lord smiles at His people taking care of one another!