Ok, I had every intention of getting to this before now.  The good news is it's not because I've been in bed hurting that I haven't written or updated.  It's because I've been up and moving.  In fact, I have been carrying my kids around and playing with them.  My proudest moment from the last week has been working with Siri on writing her name, to which she is now doing all by herself (she's quite the smart little 3 year old).  So that's the short version.

Going back.  My surgery lasted for 7 hours.  Longer than expected.  No major complications, but my skin was thin which required them to go slower and I had some blood flow to one nipple (yes, I just said nipple- sorry if you are blushing) that wasn't as good as they would have liked.  So I think they worked with that for awhile.  We chose the U of I specifically because my chosen surgeon has had great success with nipple sparing mastectomies.  They scrape the inside of the nipple out and test the pathology to make sure the cells are good before leaving them.  Anyways, the surgery took a bit longer (an hour or so) than expected.  Which I do believe freaked my usually very calm husband out just a bit.  But since I was under, I knew nothing of the time.

I woke up in some pretty serious pain.  My husband was there and I think my brother and dad were shortly after I woke up.  I talked to them, pretty sure my eyes were closed though.  The nurses controlled my pain as best as they could.  I remember thinking that it was amazing how much you use your chest.  I hurt trying to move in bed, and even taking a breath was somewhat painful.  Praise the Lord for Dilaudid. That stuff just knocked me out.   It's supposed to help with pain, but just put me to sleep instantly.  Moving to the bathroom was very painful.  Scooting to the side of the bed was almost impossible.  I think they must have pumped me full of fluids because I think I spent the majority of the night trying to get into or out of the bathroom.  I had one incident where the IV fell out and blood went everywhere while attempting to go to the bathroom.  After having a cath in I felt weak, miserable, and wondered why the heck I did this.  But it was short lived, and by morning I was moving better.  I hate IV's so I guess that's one way to get it out.  

I was placed in a double room on a cancer floor, which I was thankful my new friend, Sarah Corkery, gave me a heads up about.  My roommate's name was Gabby.  Not sure of her last name, but she was a sweet older woman who had a large tumor removed from her leg.  She had a rare, terminal cancer that was generally found in children.  She is probably in her sixties.  And her attitude and sweetness were wonderful.  She said she was glad they could use her to research and help children, since she had never had any of her own.  I get a little teary thinking of her.  As hard as I was trying to be discharged, she was trying to stay in the hospital because she had more help at home if she could stay a day or two longer.  She'd often call for the bedpan in the middle of the night and then tell the night nurse how her roommate was in so much pain and they should check on me. She reminded me of my grandma quite a bit.  She was kind and chatty.  I feel a little bad because I was not in a chatty mood, but her and I had a few nice conversations.  I told her I liked her attitude and she told me I was a pretty, young thing.  Which made me laugh because I was shuffling by myself to the bathroom at 3:30 in the morning and I am sure that is not how I looked.  If you pray, add Gabby to your prayers tonight.  She has a 16 year old Yorkie she was missing and seemed like a very brave soul.  I wish her the best.  Because neither of us slept much that night, she was given morphine before I left on Friday and was sleeping so I didn't get to say goodbye.  Having a roommate wasn't super enjoyable (more nurses in and out in the night), but she was a kind one.  

I had to be able to eat and walk to get out of the hospital, and that I did.  So RJ brought me home to my babies on Friday afternoon.  The amazing thing was I could lift my arms almost instantly that day.  That day is a bit fuzzy.  The pain meds are probably a bit to blame for that, but other than a little nausea from the pain meds, I know I felt better than I expected to feel.  I was warned I may have to sleep in a recliner.  I really love my bed.  So we built up my side with tons of pillows and I was able to sleep in my bed from the first day I was home.  My kids were able to come and talk to me, and I was mobile enough to come out and see them too.  I had a drain in on both sides.  If you know me well, you know blood and stuff of that nature is not my forte.  The drains needed to be stripped and emptied twice a day and then measured and recorded.  My husband became a pro at doing this, and he did it all but once, when my friend, Heather, got to use her nursing skills.  I'm so thankful for family and friends that are stronger than I am.  

I'm still amazed at the amount of pain free movement I had, and how good I felt by Saturday.  One of my mother in-laws was here helping right after I got out of the hospital, and I believe my kids and our dog terrified her because she was so worried they'd hurt me.  God bless her.  But honestly, I wasn't too concerned.  I was able to talk with and get up to eat with them almost instantly.  By Superbowl Sunday, my aunt had arrived and I was up watching the game with my entire family.  Eating and enjoying life.  My only issue was my pain meds needed to be switched as I felt they made me too tired.  I decreased my dose voluntarily.

By Monday I was up and moving in the morning with the kids and getting into a routine of napping in the afternoons when they napped or went to school so could be up for dinner and the evenings.  Literally 4 days post surgery, I was able to lift my arms and spend most of the day with my kids being mom.  My amazing Aunt was here to make sure I was able to nap and rest when I needed.  She did lots of dishes, laundry, and entertaining of my darling, yet difficult children.  

So here I get to the the heart of why I'm writing.  It took me awhile, I know.  I am overwhelmed with the outpouring of love for me and my family. The amount of prayers said for me and my family.  Completely and totally overwhelming.  I cried in the car on the way to Iowa City the night before my surgery.  Not because I was afraid or worried (I won't say that I had zero fear) but because my phone and my email blew up with messages of love and support.  People I knew from high school and have followed a bit on Facebook, but hadn't had a conversation with in years took the time to write me.  Not just write me, but make my heart feel full. My dear friends were begging to take my kids for playdates and bake us meals. It got to the point I was turning help away. Cards and gifts- beautiful heartwarming things filled my mailbox.  People made me feel like what I was doing was brave.  I bet I heard that a thousand times.  Folks, there is some saying out there: "You'll never know how strong you are, until being strong is the only choice you have." -unknown.  That's exactly how I felt through this whole thing.  Not that I'm incredibly strong or brave, but given my situation, many would do the exact same thing.  It wasn't an easy choice to have the surgery, but there really wasn't any other choice.  

I'm humbled.  My freezer is full of food baked with love.  The amount of notes and cards received have been so overwhelming I fear I may never be able to respond to them the way I'd like.  You see, I'm convinced the Lord has blessed me beyond measure.  I may have drawn the short end on this one gene mutation, but HE has filled me up with people.  People, who in an instant will drive me to a doctors appointment or take my children so I can rest.  People who have offered prayers from afar, or to shovel my driveway.  My honest assessment of why my recovery is so amazing:  Prayers and love.  From all over.  I have been lifted up and healed amazingly.  I am physically strong, which helps, but it still doesn't explain my recovery.  I feel like it's nothing short of miraculous that I can carry my kids without pain meds less than two weeks post surgery.  It's as though my body felt everyone of those prayers.  I still have the scars and few bandages left, but those will fade and my plastic surgeon is working hard to make me look "normal" again.  I cannot say I won't have a tired day here and there.  But what I will walk away from this with is not the scars or the pain.  It's the love.  

My kids are amazing and still ask me if I'm feeling good today.  Still waiting for my sweet, Asher to give me a good hug.  He is gentle with me.  Siri and Shai are very curious about my "ouchies", but they've been well cared for by family and friends.  It hasn't been a cake walk having different people in and out and taking care of them.  Goodness knows that Siri needs and wants here consistency.  There's not a doubt in my head they've felt the love and prayers and have experienced the peace I've experienced.  THANKS to each of you who's touched my children during this time.  

My husband is amazing.  The Wednesday my drains were removed and I had my expanders filled (for the reconstruction) was not a good day for me.  It was long and more pain than I'd been experiencing.  So I hurt, and then I was sad because I hurt.  I feared I was taking a giant step back.  I wanted a shower without those stupid drains.  But after getting in, I realized very quickly it was a bad idea.  Sobbing in the shower and in too much pain to finish washing my hair, R.J. finished washing my hair, dried me off, and then covered my wounds from the drainage tubes and put me to bed.  He helped me to the bathroom after surgery and helped me wipe.  It may be too much information for you all.  Sorry, but on the Eve of Valentine's day, these are the moments you know you're truly loved.  Ugly and broken.  An amazing reflection of God's love for us.  So thank you to all of you who have prayed for him and who have lifted his burden by helping with meals and entertaining the kids.  I'm blessed by having a partner that loves me when I'm ugly.

Here's my take away.  This experience has taught me a whole lot thanks to you all.  Love wins.  Be joyful, always.  Be a good friend.  Be a very good friend.  In 30 seconds you can write a note that will lift someone up for the whole day, so do it.  Pray for the people you say you'll pray for.   God listens.  Love on everyone's kids.  It takes a village to raise kids, and those little gestures mean so much to both the child and the parent.  Food is good, so bring it to those in need.  Gifts that come from the heart change the heart.  Be thoughtful and generous in giving.  Be kind to everyone, and instill it in your children.  15 years from now the people you're kind to may return the favor in a kind note, a meal, or just a prayer.  Again, love wins.  

This experience isn't over.  I have my post op check with the breast surgeon tomorrow and also meet with the plastic surgeon to continue to fill my expanders, so I can eventually get implants.  So the journey towards recovery continues, but my recovery to this point is nothing short of miraculous.  Thank you for the prayers and support.  Please continue to lift us up and don't forget to pray for Gabby .  A new friend shared this verse with me, so I will share it here.  
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10

Thank you all for helping to teach me this experience will make me a better stronger person. You overwhelm me with LOVE.  Happy Valentine's Day!