What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger
I love this saying. I don’t know why but after the last five months it feels more true than ever. If you follow my blog, you will know what I’ve been going through. Life has been tough. If you don’t well in a nutshell, I gave birth to my son in September via Emergency C-Section. The days that followed were a nightmare. I suffered numerous complications and nearly died. I don’t think too many people know the meaning of looking death in the face. Not a close call where you get a fright from a car that swerves a little too close. I mean the kind of brush with death where the Doctors aren’t sure you’ll make it. Where your body is so damaged and ill that you can’t move on your own. Where you lie in ICU for days on end with other people cleaning you, turning you, feeding you. Life can be so cruel.
[bctt tweet=”You have to keep fighting, especially in the hard times. That’s when you fight the hardest! “]
I didn’t expect to go into hospital to have a baby and stay there for the next month. I didn’t expect that after five months, I’d have had five surgeries all together. Every week there seems to be a new complication. I was in hospital last week and the week before that. Each time killing my soul a little more than before.
By nature, I am a happy and positive person. During my last stay in hospital, my grandmother passed away. I lay in bed while they buried her. While she was put to rest forever, I was lying in a hospital bed with needles in my arms, recovering from yet another complication. I’m a fighter, a warrior, I don’t give up.
But it’s getting harder and harder to be positive, to smile, to have my baby visit me in hospital.
The weirdest thing, my little baby knows. He knows something is wrong. A child so full of smiles won’t smile at me when I’m in the hospital. He smiles at nurses, his father and other patients but not a single smile for mama. Instead, he snuggles in my arms and quietly goes to sleep every time. His safe spot. In my arms. I cry. I cry a lot. I’m jealous of the smiles he gives to them. I’m jealous that I can’t put him to bed. I’m so so so very heartbroken that my child knows the insides of a hospital so well. This isn’t how it was meant to be.
I don’t know if I’m any stronger after this experience that tried, and failed to kill me but I definitely know that I am strong. I refuse to give in, to give up. I’m going to keep fighting until I win this war. Every setback is yet another battle but I keep defeating them. I’ve fought off countless infections. I’ve won so many battles but I’m not done.
They say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I say, I was already strong!