Reflections from My First Week Post-Surgery — July Unfolds
July began with the slow, tender rhythm of recovery. Just days before the month started, I underwent a scheduled surgery that thankfully went smoothly—no complications, no surprises in the operating room. The success of the procedure itself was reassuring. However, waking up after surgery greeted me with something unexpected: a severely sore throat. It was the kind of pain I had never experienced before, raw and unrelenting. I suspect it had something to do with the way I was intubated during the operation, though I can’t say for sure. I hadn't anticipated that my throat would be the first thing demanding attention.
In many ways, my post-surgery recovery reminded me of the postpartum haze after giving birth. That same heaviness lingered in my body—weak, aching, and reluctant to move. It’s strange how different life events can echo each other physically and emotionally. My body, still healing, needed gentle care and constant vigilance.
My surgeon had prepared me for the intensity of those first few days. Around-the-clock pain medication was necessary, and admittedly, one of the hardest parts of the healing process. The frequent dosing schedule meant I could never sleep deeply—just two hours at a time before waking again to take another pill. I longed for uninterrupted sleep, the kind that feels like a soft descent into calm. Trading that for rigid medication schedules was draining, but necessary.
After two weeks, my body gradually stopped relying on painkillers. That milestone felt like a small victory—like my system was reclaiming itself, bit by bit. Even now, I remain cautious. Every movement and decision comes with intention because I refuse to risk reopening any cuts or inviting complications.
Healing isn’t linear. It’s quiet and slow, often unfolding in the background of ordinary days. But through this month, I've found resilience in rest and a deeper appreciation for the strength it takes to surrender to recovery.
Honoring My Dad’s First Birthday in Heaven
This month marks the first time I’m celebrating my dad’s birthday without him here. It’s a bittersweet experience—quiet, tender, and filled with reflection. Just last year, a simple phone call was all it took to hear his voice and wish him a happy birthday. This year, that call isn’t possible, and the silence feels heavier than expected.
To honor him, I put together a simple DIY bouquet of white blooms I picked up from Trader Joe’s—each flower chosen with care, a symbol of love, peace, and memory. I paired it with a framed photo of him from his prime years, capturing the essence of his strength and spirit. It wasn't a grand celebration, but it was meaningful. I lit a candle, whispered a prayer, and remembered him with love.
Though he's no longer physically here, this quiet tribute made me feel connected to him in a way that words can’t fully explain. His birthday still lives in my heart, and this new kind of celebration—grounded in memory and prayer—is something I’ll carry with me each year.
Mid-July Magic — Chaos, Balloons, and Ice Cream
Just as my body began feeling more like itself, mid-July rolled in with a sweet surprise. My husband's company announced the return of their “Bring Your Kid to Work” Day—a tradition we first joined last year, back when our little one was still mostly a bundle of sleepy cuddles. This year? Same location, entirely different kind of baby: we were now bringing a full-fledged toddler with opinions, energy, and a flair for dramatic tantrums.
Despite the unpredictability that comes with toddlerhood, the event was wonderfully organized. They truly leveled up from last year, adding new activities to keep little ones engaged and happy. There were colorful photobooths to capture goofy smiles, and a balloon artist who could twist magic out of latex faster than most of us could blink. It was one of those rare corporate events that felt genuinely family-centered.
We arrived bright and early at 9:00 a.m. and stayed until around 2:00 p.m.—a full outing that tested all our parental stamina. Our toddler started the day with a modest breakfast, then grazed happily on snacks throughout the morning. Lunch was a shared adventure, and to top it all off, there was free ice cream—a sweet little cherry on the sundae of memories we made.
It was one of those days where parenting is messy and unpredictable, but somehow still magical. Watching our toddler bounce between excitement and exhaustion reminded me that joy doesn't always need to be quiet or composed—it can be loud, sticky, and covered in sprinkles.
July’s Quiet Hustle: Healing, Honoring, and Toddler Joys
The final weeks of July felt like both a return and a renewal. I was back in the rhythm of full-time motherhood, navigating the vibrant energy of my toddler while continuing to be mindful of my post-surgery recovery. His meltdowns were no match for my resolve — I learned to offer comfort from the sidelines, resisting the instinct to scoop him up right away. I’ll admit, watching his little arms reach up while I braced myself and whispered “Mommy’s healing” tugged at something deep. It reminded me that even in the hardest moments, gentleness with myself is a form of parenting, too.
As I eased back into familiar routines, one little habit made its quiet comeback: adding things to my cart like it was part of my healing plan. From colorful activity kits that kept my toddler busy and smiling, to travel essentials for upcoming adventures, and new products I couldn't wait to try — it was equal parts practical and playful.
Weekends were a blend of errands and creativity. Between Costco runs and unplanned strolls through Walmart, I leaned into my creative flow — editing podcast episodes and lining up blog drafts has become part of my downtime ritual. It’s where I reset, recharge, and let ideas unfold naturally, even in the middle of laundry piles and snack breaks.
July was a mosaic of caregiving, creativity, and connection. A soft reset that helped me gather momentum for what’s coming next.
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