So, on Cameron’s actual birthday, I was having such a good day. We’d gotten her up early to unwrap presents. Then I went to work happily, knowing she was on a daddy/daughter breakfast date. My principal allowed me to leave work early, so I ran a few last-minute birthday errands, picked CK up from school, and met my hub at the house. We let her open more presents, which she loved, and headed to Bounce U. We got to Bounce U, and were honestly having the BEST time. I kid you not when I say that about three times I had the thought, “This is all going way too well, too perfect. Something has to go wrong.” Terrible to think, I know, but... about five minutes before we were about to walk out of Bounce U and head home to give Cameron her very first cupcake, I jumped down from one of the obstacle courses, landing on my ankle sideways.
Let’s just say there was a very loud snap, so loud in fact that T heard it over the blowing of the air machines. I immediately knew it was bad, especially when I reached down and felt a distinct bulge that didn’t belong. (I initially thought it was the bone, but later found out it was where the ligament snapped and balled up.)
While it sounds a bit dramatic (and maybe it is, in your opinion), there was blacking out, cold sweats, nausea, etc.
To my credit, T has told the many doctors we’ve seen that he witnessed me birth an almost 10-pound baby with half an epidural... and this was ten times worse.
Long story short, I’ve ripped one ligament and completely torn another.
As the doctors said, it may have been better if I had broken it.
The good news is that I don’t have to have surgery. The bad news is that it’s gonna be awhile before I’m 100%. I’ve gone from no weight-bearing with crutches, to weight-bearing with crutches, and now I think I’m ready to put the crutches away and just walk in the fracture boot. I’ll start therapy next week.
It’s been SO frustrating, especially since it’s my right foot (hello learning how to drive with my left foot) and even more especially because, oh yeah, I have a running, climbing, daredevil of a one-year-old who does not ever sit still
much as I’ve tried to turn her on to Dora, Elmo, Blue, Mickey Mouse, and even the
Yo Gabba Gabba crazies.
Interestingly enough, about four people have come to me since this happened and said the same thing – “So, do you think this is God’s way of telling you that you need to slow down?”
Well, people, no, I don’t think that God intentionally snapped two ligaments in my ankle just so I’d learn to slow down. I do, however, believe that most all things happen for a reason. And, the more I reflect, the more I think that this may be happening at a time when I do really need to take a step back and stop trying to be superwoman.
You know, the superwoman who wants to throw the perfect first birthday party, do all the grocery shopping/laundry, put home-cooked meals on the
trays every night, send in baked goodies to her daughter’s class, keep the
house clean, train for a half marathon, keep her husband happy, make sure her
daughter knows she’s loved more than anything in the world… oh, and work
My annoying ankle injury has indeed drastically changed my pace of life. And while it’s a temporary change, I was very, very frustrated with it at first. I can’t say that I’ve completely gotten over the frustration, but I am trying to revel in this new, slower pace and the ways in which I have to ask for help and depend on other people. (In case you don’t know, I am fiercely stubborn and independent and HATE having to rely on other people – hence learning how to drive with my left foot so I can go where I want, when I want.)
So these days, I send my hub to the grocery store, trying not to cringe when he brings home cereal and chips I despise or three things of peanut butter “because it was on sale.” (Because, I mean, do we really need to stockpile peanut butter? And doesn’t he know that you get the sale price even if you only buy 1?)
These days, instead of rushing home to plop CK in the jogging stroller and pound the pavement, we change into comfy clothes before the sun sets and roll around in the homemade ball pit on the back porch.
It’s been tough, I won’t lie. It’s tough when you’re the type of person who likes to go, go, go. It’s tough when you want to be everything to everyone – which I need to learn is impossible anyway, bum ankle or not.
I’m definitely learning to appreciate the slowness, enjoy the view, and put my guard down when I need help from my husband.
Who, by the way, has been a saint. Especially since he has to live with his wife who has been, well, a little grumpy and stressed out lately. And you know what I do when I’m stressed out? Run.
Oh wait – I can’t.
So, I know there will still be days when I’m frustrated with my inability to be mobile, to run after my wild, giggling toddler and throw her above my head while she squeals with delight… but I am truly going to try to use this as a time to catch my breath and sit down a little more often.
But just so you know… as soon as I get the go ahead, I’ll be dusting off my superwoman cape.