Under Pressure...

A few weeks ago I stupidly sat in an office and made a promise I couldn't keep. I promised that I would take the time to let my back heal and not have another surgery for 6 months.

I didn't say those words with the idea that weeks later I would be taking them back...believe me if I could not have another surgery for 6 months I would happily go along living my life and trying to heal from the emotional and physical whirlwind I've been dealing with for the last 4 months (has it only been 4 months, it feels like about 4 years).

Now I can't honor that promise and the person that I made it to is unwilling to listen to my reasoning so I thought I might write it down here and it would help me to remember that my choice counts and that maybe I'm not making a mistake by going ahead with the surgery.

Hope has been having a hard time, she's struggling and she doesn't quite get what's going on. She understands that Mommy is sick but doesn't quite understand the gravity of the sickness. In her head she still believes that some day Mommy is going to have surgery and then come home and be fine.

Needless to say after Joe tucks her in at night she has been wandering out of bed and into my room for a little extra snuggling time and just to make sure that I'm ok.

The other night after she came in and we snuggled for a bit she asked me if I would tuck her in. I got up and found that there just wasn't one more step in my foot. I hadn't asked Joe take the knee walker out of the attic yet so I didn't have any other choice but to crawl into her room with her. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled as Hope walked beside me.

As we moved into the upstairs family room she said, "Mommy, I'm going to jump on your back and ride you like a horsey."

I sat down and explained to her that she couldn't get on my back and that there were just screws holding things together and that I was still healing from my surgery. She looked at me and shrugged her little shoulders and skipped into her room.

I sat on the floor and watched as my daughter tucked herself into bed (she has a loft bed) threw her a kiss and crawled back to my room where I proceeded to wonder what would have happened if she had been like any other 8 year old and would have just taken the moment as play and just jumped on my back without warning me first.

56 pounds and 4 screws would have made for a disastrous outcome. That was when I knew not only did I need to get my knee walker out of the attic but I also needed to get myself fixed so my daughter doesn't have to see her mom crawling around the house.

I'll never get the chance to explain this to the person that I made a promise to, his faith in me is broken and that bothers me because I'm usually pretty good about my word being good...but I guess even I have a line and when I have to chose, my daughter will always come first.