05/07/2026
After the hardest, scariest, loneliest 2 1/2 months, I’m finally going home in a couple days. I’ve never been pushed to the limit of almost giving up.
Being in the hospital for such a long period of time does something to you- it breaks you in ways you feel like you’ll never be whole again, you learn a lot about yourself and how you want people to remember you when you’re gone, you miss people in a way that physically hurts, you cry when you see people enjoying life, doing things you could only wish you’ll get to do, people’s lives moving right along as if you were never there to start, you learn that pain is only temporary and to grit your teeth and keep going, you learn who’s really there for you. You learn that even in the darkest, saddest moments, you can see your child and smile, and forget about everything….. for just a minute.
You also learn how precious the small things are— fresh air, your own bed, a shower, fresh pink flowers, lighting a yummy candle, being with the people you love, driving with the windows down, being with your child everyday, moving your body, sleeping on your side, freedom to get up and go to the bathroom without being attached to something, being able to eat food. All the things that once felt so simple, feel more sacred.
There were nights I didn’t think I was strong enough to keep doing this, and I would fall asleep holding back tears. Most days I felt angry, exhausted, scared, numb, and heartbroken all at once, just trying to survive one more day. I’ve realized that healing isn’t just physical. These past few months broke me mentally and emotionally.
And I know parts of me will never be the same after this experience.
But maybe that isn’t always a bad thing?? Maybe some pain changes you into someone softer, stronger, more grateful, and more understanding of what other people are going through.
I can’t wait to be in my own home, and to start healing the pieces of me that are broken. 🦋🕊️
