I keep having to remind Lincoln that I am a little less patient, short tempered, and down right ornery because it has been a rough couple of months lately. Pregnancy hormones are surging through my system. My dad passed away and I find that it affects me more than I think it does sometimes, and to top it all off I broke my foot.
On December 1st Lincoln and I decided to help our friends move. They have a steep little hill in their front yard. As I was
walking to our car to grab something for Lincoln I decided not to take the
stairs and to instead go down the hill. Right as I came down there was a divit
in the grass that I didn’t see and I twisted my ankle, then fell flat on my
face. I heard a big pop. I tried to stand back up to continue going to the car,
but I could tell that my body was in shock. I went to the trunk and tried to
hold on. I was losing my balance and somewhat blacking out. I then collapsed on
the ground. I reached for my foot and immediately felt something wrong. I knew right then I broke a bone in my foot. I asked Lincoln
to take me to the ER and our friend Kami took Eva. In the car on the drive over
I started to feel the pain. It wasn’t too bad, but I definitely wanted to get
to the hospital soon. Once we got to the ER they quickly rushed us in, got my
information, then took X rays.
As
we were waiting to hear the results so many things came to my mind. First of
all, I was frustrated at myself for being so clumsy. Then I started to play the
blame game. I blamed myself. I blamed the fact that we were helping our friends
move when we should have been home putting Eva down for her nap. I blamed
Lincoln for bringing me there in the first place (I mean, seriously, how much
can a pregnant woman help in moving?) I was getting so frustrated and so
negative and it didn’t make me feel any better. I just felt worse.
Then
I made a conscious decision to look at all my blessings. I became so grateful that Lincoln was with me right then to
drive me to the ER. I was so grateful that our friend Kami could take Eva right
then as well. I was so glad that the baby inside of me wasn’t hurt. Instead of thinking of all the ways I could have avoided it from happening, or all
the “what if’s,” I came to terms that for whatever reason the Lord wanted to
teach me something and that I was going to learn it by going through this.
Accidents happen. But they always happen for a reason. God is involved in the details of our
lives. I kept thinking back to when I broke both my arms when I was 12. It was
a huge turning point in my life. I learned so much from that. I knew I was going
to learn something again. I also became grateful that it was happening now, and
not when I was more pregnant or less pregnant, or even with a new born.
The doctor told me that I was lucky. The X-Rays showed that my
ligament had pulled my 5th metatarsal and broke it. It was just 2 mm
away from being snapped in half. Had it snapped in half, I would have been on
crutches for 3 months. He told me that I would definitely need to be in crutches for a week or more
and that I was not allowed to step on it for now.
I
immediately cancelled all my pilates classes, barre classes and spin classes. I
was sad to have to do that, but since this is the third time this year that I
have had to suddenly cancel classes (dad’s death, possible miscarriage, and now
this) I have learned that my schedule, as much as I love it, is not that
important. The Lord is ultimately in charge and a class here or there doesn’t
really matter. The good news was that I would be able to teach some of my
pilates classes again once I didn’t have to be on crutches. But no more spin or
barre for 6 weeks or more.
We
got home that night and went to bed. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. I
just wanted my mom more than anything. Even grown children still need their mom :). I knew it was going
to be a really rough week and I just wished she could be there. I was praying
and crying, and then I had an inspirational thought that said, “You won’t have
your mom, but you will have your dad in spirit.” Then I started crying more and
Lincoln leaned over and said, “You know you are not alone.” It was true. I
didn’t have my mom but I had a sweet loving husband, and spirit father who
would be there as much as he could, and countless angels on both sides of the
veil that would help me that week. Then I finally fell asleep.
I
woke up the next morning and my friend Laura came over to help me and Eva get
ready for church. Lincoln had bishopric meetings before church so I was alone
and incredibly grateful for Laura’s help. She got Eva out of her crib and got her ready then took her
downstairs and to the car. I was ready to go and was alone in my house going
downstairs on crutches. I hadn’t yet mastered the task and was a little scared.
Then I immediately felt my dad with me. I knew he was there helping me.
At
church so many people were asking how they could help and others offered to
bring me dinner that week. My friend Tara said she would be with me Monday-Weds to help with Eva and my friend Jessica said she would come Weds-Friday. These two girls are
some of my closest friends and I knew I could really use their help and
wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone else besides them. I was so grateful that
their jobs are flexible and that they could be there for me when I really
needed someone.
For
the next two weeks I was completely watched over. It was incredible. If I even
had a moment or a thought of being bored, all the sudden my neighbors or
friends would stop by. It was like my dad (and I am sure many other angels on
the other side of the veil) were watching over me and making sure that I was
taken care of by friends and neighbors. It was incredible.
Since
I did have more down time I read more, and I reflected more, and I had a chance to really get into the “spirit”
of the Christmas season as I thought about my Savior and thought about
everything I have been through and learned this year. It was really good for me to slow down and enjoy life in a different way.
But as many spiritual moments come and go, it is so hard to hold on to them as time goes on. The first couple of weeks after I broke my foot I felt incredibly watched over. I felt like I learned so much. Then after 5, 6, 7, 8 weeks of being in this boot and getting a bigger and bigger uncomfortable baby belly it is hard to remember those spiritual times. Especially after my last Dr. appointment when my doctor told me that he thinks my pregnancy has had a negative affect on my healing process and he wants me to wear the boot for another 3 weeks. Which will make it a total of 11 weeks. Almost twice as long as I thought it would take to heal. When I first went into the ER they told me it should heal in about 6 weeks. I didn't sign up for this.
And I wonder why I am getting so short tempered with my husband. I think it stems from being impatient with myself.
Sometimes I just want to know why broken bones have to take longer to heal? What is the point? Why does recovering from the death of a loved one affect how nice or patient or kind I am with the one person I care about the most? You would think that because I am growing a baby inside of me that my body has this "bone making process" down and it would be able to heal like normal people. You would also think that losing my dad would make me appreciate my husband and love him more instead of make me want to push him away from me?
I don't have the answers. I don't know what I am supposed to learn from having a broken foot for twice as long as I thought. I thought I learned everything I needed to in the first 3 weeks. Now, more than anything, it is just annoying. But how can I learn patience unless my patience is tried?
You can't put a time frame on the healing process. From broken bones to broken hearts, I think it always takes longer to heal than we think it will. And that is ok.
“Sometimes, in spite of all we do to ‘make weak things become strong,’ the Lord, in His infinite wisdom, does not take away our weakness. The Apostle Paul struggled throughout his life with ‘a thorn in the flesh,’ which he said served to humble him ‘lest [he] should be exalted above measure’ (2 Corinthians 12:7). Three times Paul asked the Lord to take away his weakness, and three times the Lord declined to do so. The Lord then explained that His grace was sufficient for Paul and that, in fact, His strength was actually ‘made perfect in weakness.’ Then Paul wrote, ‘Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.’ …
“Like Paul, we can find positive meaning in weaknesses that are not taken away. Surely nothing is quite as humbling as having a weakness that we cannot overcome but must continue to struggle with throughout our life. Such a weakness teaches us, in a very personal way, that after all we can do we must rely on the grace of Christ to make up the difference.
“As we humbly submit our will to the Lord’s, we find that our weaknesses can indeed become sources of strength if we put our trust in Him.”
—Anne C. Pingree, “Making Weak Things Become Strong,” Ensign, Dec. 2004, 30
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