Waiting for Spring - A Story of Healing Through My Crippling Disease

Life is lived in seasons. There are seasons of plenty, and there are seasons of want. There are seasons spent dancing with joy and seasons huddled in sorrow. I am living in the winter. The season of want. The season of barren and bleak. I was 21 years old when I was told I would need to have surgery to burn out a disease in my body. I had been married for only one year when I was told I would probably never have children. These are things that no young woman ever imagines hearing in relation to herself. These are the kinds of things that happen to other people. My story is nothing special. There are thousands like it, and thousands more terrible that I could hardly imagine them. However, that does not make it any less real.

I was 21 years old when I went to my follow-up visit after my surgery and was told my disease was returning much more quickly than anticipated. It is still one of the worst days of my life to date. Sitting in this doctor’s office with my husband of one year, we were anxiously waiting to find out treatment options and next steps. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that Endometriosis would have rocked our world the way it has. After discussing our next steps with my doctor, we began the four hour drive home. I cried.

Being a strong, impenetrable wall was where I always found my pride. Anything that had happened in my life before this point didn’t matter because I didn’t let it get to me. But this was different. It was personal. It was filled with accusations. It fed me lies and I listened. I begged for more when they stopped. These lies were like a drug for me. When the supply ran out, I was reeling. Doing anything I could to get more. These lies were convincing, and they were easy to hear. And so I listened. “Your husband should leave you. What good is a broken wife to him?” This one in particular was my favorite. I allowed this lie to be the new cornerstone in this wall I was almost done building.

But my husband saw right through me. He knew I wanted to be strong. Inaccessible. But I was weak. Every time he held me a little tighter I was cracking. In my winter, he held me close and warmed by body allowing roots of healing to grow. Every night he lay awake because I couldn’t sleep, I was breaking. Every time he carried me to the bathroom because I couldn’t stand, was another chink in my armor. Each time he carried me to the couch because I had bled through our sheets and comforter was an attack on my defense. And each time he picked me up and carried me to the shower to bathe the blood off of my tired body without a thought for himself was healing to my self inflicted battle wounds, and I hated that I loved him for that. I was fighting. But he wasn’t. Oh, I wanted him to pull away. If he pulled away, those lies I was feeding myself wouldn’t have tasted so sour in my mouth. But if he had given the satisfaction to my lies, his love would not have tasted so sweet on my wounds.

Four failed treatments later and here I am. Being diagnosed with Endometriosis was the wake up call I needed. This call came in many different forms. It was people in my life forcing me to get back in the Scriptures. It was friends in my life telling me to get my eyes off of my situation and onto my Savior. It was my husband constantly showing me the absolutely overwhelmingly suffocating grace of Jesus through his actions.

A year ago, Endometriosis was death. Now it is like life to me.

"Learn from my mistakes and cling to what you know is true even in the midst of uncertainty, depression and discouragement. It makes the death and resurrection of Jesus so much sweeter. In your bleakest winter, sit by the fire with Him and allow Him to tell you stories of His goodness."

So, is this battle over? Absolutely not. Even as I am writing this at 3:31 in the morning, awake because my pain will not allow me to sleep, I am reminded that this battle is far from over. But my attitude has changed. With every stab of pain, though it hurts physically, I am reminded of the healing it has brought me spiritually and the deepened relationship I have with my husband.

And so, here I sit. Waiting on the flowers of spring to bloom. Waiting with eagerness to touch the hem of His garment. For He is good and His faithfulness knows no end.