The physical therapist tapped her chart against the little desk. I shifted slowly in the chair crammed right next to it. She cleared her throat and glanced from the newborn in the carseat at my feet to my sister crouched on the floor beside the babe, and back to me, aflush with the shock and exhaustion of my fourth’s birth being a bit different.
Let’s start with just walking. Then we can work on getting you up on the massage table. Now, when you’re learning how to walk without functioning ligaments, the mechanics can be a little tricky.
I blinked back tears during our session. I shifted my weight slowly to swing my legs one at a time. I was handed a packet of exercises and bid bye til next week. We drove home in my silence and the baby’s fussing. After my sister had gone and my husband had helped me get back into bed, I cried, “What if I never heal right and I never can walk without pain again?”
An 11-pound baby born at 39.5 weeks (no gestational diabetes, no sign on our ultrasounds she would be macrosomia). A shoulder dystocia injury complete with brachial plexus (nerve damage) and a broken collarbone for her. Shredded pelvic floor and SI ligaments for me. Miraculously no long-term issues for her despite being stuck in the birth canal for around a minute. Substantially long-term issues for me. This was the story of the birth of my fourth baby in six years.
+ + +
Almost a year into physical therapy, when we had exhausted everything (from muscles to hold bones in place when ligaments couldn’t to my sister’s babysitting-at-PT schedule), on conversation sticks out.
I was offered a surgery to shore up the ligament tissue, to firm and reinforce it so that my pelvis could stabilize. We spoke about me being able to run, bike, maybe dip back into my glory days of riding horses again. I felt a hope for healing swell in my heart.
But a critical part of this procedure actually working was that I couldn’t have other pregnancies.
Given our openness to life (practicing NFP still meant this), the singular option for substantial healing was not an option for us.
+ + +
What do you want healing for, my friend? What do you deeply wish and desire healing for and from and of? Is it something so deep you can’t even draw breath to bring it out of your mouth and into the world? Is it “too small” or “too big” for God’s notice and tender touch?
And if you dare to ask for it, what about if it’s not what God wants for you or what He knows is best for you and the plan He has for you? Can you trust in the dark? Can you trust in His no?
I can’t fathom why healing happens in a nanosecond for some and others wait until the next life. It’s hard to hold trust in God’s love and desire for our healing when we simply don’t experience it when or as we desire. We witness those waiting by the modern-day equivalent of Bethesda and wonder at the plan or feel abandoned by the Planner. Healing is outside of our control.
Wouldn’t it be great if I had some magic formula to release you of the churning in your life? To assuage the longing for healing? To cut you free from your expectations surrounding how you’ll heal and when?
There is a short formula of sorts: “Not my will, but Thy will be done.”
Jesus asked for the cup to pass from Him in the Garden before His Passion, before His best friends betrayed Him, His Body was tortured, or He breathed His last breath. He asked, and then He acquiesced.
Healing is God’s will for us, but it may not happen how we think or when we think. In fact, it probably won’t. And that’s because He has something better for us. Something that suffering can teach us far more precisely than instantaneous healing could. And He never leaves us alone as we suffer and (hopefully) learn to grow in dependence on Him above ourselves.
I prayed long and hard for full physical healing. And, in His time, I felt the peace that comes with interior healing from the emotional trauma of our daughter’s birth. But complete physical healing simply wasn’t (isn’t) His will for me. When we welcomed our {{suuurrrpppprriiiisssseeee}} covid-era fifth baby, that planned c/s was the best thing I could do for both of us, all of us, really. I’m still not quite healed from that, either.
While you’re waiting for your healing, and I’m waiting for mine, who needs our suffering? Who could use some good old fashioned “offer-it-up”ism? Look around and pay attention to those for whom you’re willing and able to share the gift of your suffering, the fruits of what you’re undergoing. I’m always surprised when I look up and beyond myself that an abundant sea of others in need awaits my eyes.
We’re all in this together.
Love,
Nell
That's a whole lot of strength, and courage, and acceptance...and the grace for it all. I love the reflection here of what you got from your surrender--that precious baby, and the knowledge of how much you are capable of. God gives in the taking--a truth of which I am in constant need of reminder--thanks, Nell!
Crying. Needed this today, dear friend. And the suffering/offering we've shared over the years and across miles! Love you.