Benched

I've had so many emotions bouncing around my head lately that it took me days to process them, sort them and put them in their proper spots.

I saw the Knee Man on Tuesday for my post-op visit and found out that I did indeed tear my entire ACL. I'm not exactly sure why I wasn't told this sooner, like ummm...a week ago when I had my surgery? Perhaps he figured I was too loopy to really understand, but his words hit me like a ton of bricks. I suddenly felt very broken. Like a beloved china doll dropped onto a hard floor. Of course, her mother will repair her. Carefully putting each jagged fragment in place. Holding them until the glue sets. But no matter how careful she is, that doll will show the consequences of that fall. She will forever have those tiny lines. Evidence of her tragedy. She will be different.

Yes, I can have my ACL replaced, but the therapy and the time required to heal from such a major endeavor is too great right now. It just isn't feasible. Being a mother to my sweet babies takes precedence. So, I will remain broken. I've been told by multiple orthopods that I will be able to perform all of my mothering functions without difficulty. I just can't play sports again because my knee is now too unstable. I've been officially benched. I wasn't planning on playing basketball again, but being told that I medically can't makes it harder for me. I'm in mourning. I'm sad for that athletic part of me that is now in retirement. Yes, there are plenty of other activities that I can do when I regain the strength in my knee, but I'm limited now. Like that china doll, I am forever scarred.

Yesterday, I felt as though that sadness might drown me. As I lay on my bed doing my endless physical therapy exercises while nursing Q, I was suffocating in self-pity. That was when my mom walked in, handed me a book and said, "I think you need to read this." At first, I was reluctant to open it. What could a book possibly do for me? But, I soon tired of my pitiful thoughts and opened it up to the first chapter. It was about a woman dying of Alzheimer's. Then I read a chapter about the author's step-father who, once diagnosed with cancer, lived only 37 days. The book is about living intentionally. Finding joy and happiness in moments.

Slowly, it dawned on me that my life isn't over just because I am scarred. I looked down at my sleeping baby with dimpled hands and I remembered. I remembered that I am strong. That I have a wonderful life filled with happiness and art and kisses and little love notes written by small fingers. I have a beautiful marriage, a loving home. I looked over at the balloons my sister brought me on the day of my surgery and I remembered that I am beloved. My sadness turned into gratitude and I knew that being broken doesn't matter at all. It just shows that I am alive. It shows that I have taken risks and sometimes fallen, but everytime getting back up. There is nothing wrong with having a few cracks repaired with superglue. It only makes me more interesting. I simply have a new story to tell.

So here's to new stories...may we all start writing....