Day 1: Walk
The word "walk" has been the center of my life for almost 12 years. On November 17, 2004 at 1:30AM, I kissed my 6 kiddos good bye, and walked into the hospital to have our youngest child. I had no way of knowing that this walk would be the last time that I would ever walk again. I have analyzed that walk for the last 12 years. I remember after kissing and hugging the kiddos, I shut the van door, stood there and waved as my friend drove home to watch my kiddos while I had the baby. I walked inside the hospital, rode the elevator to the fourth floor arrived at my room and sat down on the bed. That was it. It was all so simple and ordinary.
I dream about that night often. I agonize over what happened in the next 2 hours and if there was anything I could have changed. There was a moment during the epidural procedure that resulted in my paralysis, where I knew something was wrong. I wanted to yell "stop", but I did not. This is the moment that haunts me the most. In this one moment, everything would have changed. I would not have come home to seven children, ages 11 and under, wondering what had happened to their mother, their life.
That day began a twelve year journey of doctors, health problems that would and still often dominate my life today. In that moment we began to experience so much heart ache and more loss than I could ever write about. "WALK!", that is all we focused on as a family. There was never a moment that any of us accepted that I would never walk again. We sacrificed almost everything in a quest to get mom "back".
During the struggle, I would not allow myself to give up. To me, acceptance was giving up. We tried to live a normal life between surgeries, rehab and every health set back.
As I neared the ten year anniversary, the reality of "walk" was slipping away. The word that started and ended every one of my days took on a new meaning. How would I "walk" without actually walking? I had spent the last 10 years working towards a goal that I now had to let go. In a lot of ways, the journey of these last 2 years has been harder and full of more set backs than those that dominated the first 10 years.
It has now been almost 12 years and I would say that I am closer to acceptance, although I am not there yet. Maybe I will never be and that is okay for now. I still say "walk", however, now it means something much different. The word no longer dominates my thoughts. I visit the word at times and maybe someday I will walk again. For now I am good with the words, "just live".:)
I dream about that night often. I agonize over what happened in the next 2 hours and if there was anything I could have changed. There was a moment during the epidural procedure that resulted in my paralysis, where I knew something was wrong. I wanted to yell "stop", but I did not. This is the moment that haunts me the most. In this one moment, everything would have changed. I would not have come home to seven children, ages 11 and under, wondering what had happened to their mother, their life.
That day began a twelve year journey of doctors, health problems that would and still often dominate my life today. In that moment we began to experience so much heart ache and more loss than I could ever write about. "WALK!", that is all we focused on as a family. There was never a moment that any of us accepted that I would never walk again. We sacrificed almost everything in a quest to get mom "back".
During the struggle, I would not allow myself to give up. To me, acceptance was giving up. We tried to live a normal life between surgeries, rehab and every health set back.
As I neared the ten year anniversary, the reality of "walk" was slipping away. The word that started and ended every one of my days took on a new meaning. How would I "walk" without actually walking? I had spent the last 10 years working towards a goal that I now had to let go. In a lot of ways, the journey of these last 2 years has been harder and full of more set backs than those that dominated the first 10 years.
It has now been almost 12 years and I would say that I am closer to acceptance, although I am not there yet. Maybe I will never be and that is okay for now. I still say "walk", however, now it means something much different. The word no longer dominates my thoughts. I visit the word at times and maybe someday I will walk again. For now I am good with the words, "just live".:)
Wow, this truly was an ironic prompt for you! I am so glad it brought you to share your story. Thank you for being open and transparent as well as sharing hope. - Laura, a #5MFW neighbor in the link-up :)
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