So I had surgery last Monday, and we started off strong with… the OR breaking. Yep. The operating room literally said, “Not today, Satan,” and shut down. So we had to relocate hospitals like a medical field trip no one signed up for.

Since we had no clue what recovery was going to be like, my chosen family – my brother and sister-in-law insisted on taking the boys. I thought they meant like… a day or two. A little “get yourself together, girl” time.

No. They took them for THE ENTIRE WEEK.

And honestly? I have never felt more loved in my whole life.

Being able to focus on just recovering — not recovering and refereeing twin energy — was magical. Like spa-day-but-with-pain-meds magical.

Recovery has been ROUGH. They tunneled through my muscles, created a little Airbnb pocket in my hip for the stimulator, and now I’ve got CRPS screaming because someone decided to redecorate my insides. The stimulator is technically “on,” but only at the “hi-I-exist” level. Not anywhere near the “actually helps” level. So… yay?

But while I’ve been over here living the post-op zombie life, the boys were living their best lives with my brother and sister-in-law. Safe. Happy. Fed. Probably wearing actual clothes. A win all around.

My stepdad also came to help this week, which basically means I had a babysitter for me, not the kids. Josh got to go to work without worrying that I’d burn the house down trying to make toast.

All in all, this recovery has been extremely painful, extremely humbling, and extremely… well, extreme. But in two weeks when they turn this stimulator up to the “life-changing” setting, I’m hoping this all pays off.

Also, the boys apparently didn’t traumatize my brother and sister-in-law too badly, because they offered to take them AGAIN next week if needed. So either they’re saints… or they’re lying. I’ll take either.

10/10 thankful. 2/10 mobility.

Would not recommend recovery, but highly recommend family who kidnaps your kids in the name of love. ❤️😂