I’m still not where I want to be.

This thought has been running on a hamster wheel in my mind for 6 weeks as I have been trying to figure out my recovery.

I say figure out, because I have absolutely NO idea what I am doing here.

I am in uncharted territory.

It seemed way easier at the beginning when I was sleeping all the time, and all I had to worry about was managing pain meds.

I still had fresh hope in week two.

And now? Fresh out of that hope.

Weeks three and on came and were not as friendly as the first two weeks of this journey. I have entered into the realm of no sleep, emotional roller coasters, and the hormone crashes. And it’s not as fun.

I have caught myself thinking a lot in the last few days that I want my uterus back.

Girl, no, you don’t. You just don’t want to feel any of what you are feeling right now. Be real.

Welcome to my inner dialogue. We don’t like feelings in the current moment.

But whether I like them or not, they are still coming, and I am letting it happen. Because the stronger, wiser people in my life are telling me not to bottle them all up right now.

Thank you to the friends who have held hope for me, and reminded me that God is still here, and there is still good.

The brokenness that comes with having a hysterectomy feels never-ending most days.

It’s most in the days when I randomly remember that I will never carry a baby.

It’s felt in the moments when I am standing in church, worship music in the background, that’s proclaiming the faithfulness of God. When I am standing there in a puddle of my own grief, wondering how a good God could let this happen.

It’s felt in the doctor’s office when my surgeon goes over the biopsy results once again and reminds me how dysfunctional my uterus was.

Today as I was sitting in her office I was equally hopeful and discouraged. Hopeful for a future of no more endometriosis surgeries (fingers crossed) as she didn’t find much disease in this 4th surgery – but also discouraged because she didn’t clear me yet due to a trip to the ER that I took last Saturday.

She looked at me and said “historically, we know your body takes a long time to heal.” Yes, we do know that, but I’m not thrilled about those reminders.

So here we are, two more weeks before I can lift, carry a work bag, workout, and live a somewhat normal life again.

Long live the Fanny pack.

-Taylor Kate