When the Surgeries End...

Learning to love the body that carried me through

This past Thursday, 4/23, was my final surgery. Two weeks out of work, probably three weeks out of the gym, and honestly, this was definitely the easiest of the three surgeries. But somehow, that almost makes it harder.

Because I feel better.

I’m not in the same kind of pain I was before. I’m stronger now. I know what to expect. And yet…I still have restrictions. I still have to slow down. I still have to let my body heal on its own timeline, no matter how badly my mind wants to sprint ahead. This surgery was the final step in a long process.

My surgeon removed the skin paddles from my breasts, lowered my abdominal scar so it won’t show in bathing suits, and performed liposuction around my stomach. Right now, honestly, all I really feel is the liposuction. And let me tell you, I was not expecting that level of soreness. Not that I’m complaining about some bonus lipo…but still.

Through all of these surgeries, I’ve been focused on healing myself in every possible way - physically, mentally, emotionally. But I think now is where the real healing begins. Because now there are no more surgeries to prepare for. No more countdowns. No more “after this one…”

Now it’s just me.

Me learning how to live in a body that looks different. Me learning how to appreciate scars I never asked for. Me learning that healing isn’t just about recovery, it’s about acceptance.

There are days I look in the mirror and still feel shocked. There are days I feel grateful.
There are days I feel both at the exact same time. But more than anything, I look at these scars and realize how lucky I am to have them. Because scars mean I’m still here.

They tell the story of survival. Of fear. Of choices I never wanted to make. Of strength I didn’t know I had. They are proof that my body fought for me…even when I felt like I was falling apart.

And maybe that’s what this chapter is really about. Not getting back to who I was before. But learning to love who I am now.