It’s been just over three weeks since surgery, and I had been feeling a little better each day, until yesterday. Around lunchtime at work, the pain hit hard. My first period since surgery started, and it honestly hurts more than the operation itself.
I couldn’t sleep. I could barely move. Every breath felt heavy. The kind of pain that makes you feel trapped inside your own body, like nothing can bring comfort. The pain cuts deeper than a knife, sharp, relentless, and impossible to escape.
I’m at work now after a night of no sleep and relentless pain, trying to stand straight, trying to put on a smile and fight back tears. I had a little cry at the start of the shift with the chiropractor this morning which, if you know me, is unusual as I hate crying in general, let alone in front of anyone.
Yet somehow, I’m still finding the strength to hold back the tears and go to work today. To hold on to some sort of routine, some sense of normality, even though my body feels like it’s on fire. I’m not sure how, but I am.
I keep reminding myself that this pain doesn’t mean I’m going backwards. My body is still healing, still swollen, still bruised, still inflamed. It’s fighting to find balance again. But mentally, it’s draining to feel like you’ve made progress only to be knocked down again.
Healing isn’t linear. It’s messy. It’s painful. But it’s also proof of resilience, proof that even when it hurts like hell, we still find a way to keep going.
Today, I’m sore, exhausted, and holding on by a thread, but I’m still here. And somehow, I know brighter days are coming.
The War Inside My Womb 
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