Six months.

Six whole months.

That’s how long it’s been since my hysterectomy.

It feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago that I said yes to the surgery that would change my body, my life—and, in so many ways, deepen my faith.

The 6-month mark hit me harder than I expected. I thought I’d move through it quietly, going about life and work without thinking much of it.

But feelings don’t work that way. They ask to be felt—sometimes gently, sometimes all at once.

And yes, grief showed up.

But so did grace.

There I was early one morning, texting a friend, trying to put words to what my heart was carrying—not even sure it made sense. And I was met with gentleness, love, and truth.

Her response felt like a warm hug, reminding me of the goodness of God. How kind is He to give us people who walk alongside us? People who remind us we are seen, cared for, and deeply loved. People who gently point us back to who we are in Christ.

Hard seasons aren’t the ones we would ever choose—but even here, there is something beautiful: the kind of friendship and faith that is formed right in the middle of them.

I’m learning that a hysterectomy isn’t just a medical procedure; it’s also a surrender. A letting go of what once was—and, in some ways, what never came to be.

I’ve had to release a future I once imagined and trust God with the one He’s writing instead. And while that hasn’t been easy, it has been meaningful.

In these past six months, there were days I expected strength and found exhaustion.

Moments I thought I’d feel like myself again, only to realize that maybe God wasn’t bringing me back to who I was—but gently leading me into who I’m becoming.

And even in the discomfort, the questions, and the grief—I’ve met Him there. In ways I never would have chosen, but now deeply treasure.

Because this season has taught me to trust more deeply.

To trust when my body feels unfamiliar.

To trust when results feel scary.

To trust when healing takes longer than I hoped.

To trust when emotions rise that I don’t yet have words for.

And maybe that’s the quiet miracle of these six months: not just that my body is healing, but that my heart is too.

Learning a steadier, deeper kind of faith.

The kind that isn’t built on how I feel—but on who God has always been: faithful, present, and unchanging.

No matter what we face, He sees it all. The test results, the worries, the unknowns—none of it catches Him off guard. He holds it all, even when we don’t understand it.

And maybe that’s exactly what we need—not all the answers, but a God who sustains us through every question. A God who carries us, strengthens us, and faithfully brings us through.

Looking back, there have been so many moments I didn’t think I would make it through. More than I could ever count.

And yet… here I am.

Still here. Every single time.

Because God gave me strength.
He gave me people.
And yes—He even gave me ice cream (I’m ready for my dessert that’s awaiting me upon finishing this post)

Six months later, I’m still here.

Still standing.
Still learning.
Still growing.
Still becoming.

God hasn’t just been restoring me—He’s been reshaping me. 

And I’m learning, slowly and sometimes reluctantly, that this version of me is still able to be used by God & is just as good as the me who once had a uterus. 

Not the life I planned—but still held by a God who doesn’t miss.

-Taylor Kate