The Hard Truth About Recovering from Surgery as a Mom

It isn’t peaceful.

And it definitely isn’t a full stop on life.

It looks like sitting on the couch answering emails while your body aches. 

It looks like sitting on the couch, flushed, exhausted, sore, trying to answer emails while your body whispers, please just rest.

This is healing while holding it all together.

I recently had a uterine ablation and D&C.

Physically, I’m okay.

Technically, everything went “well.”

But healing isn’t just about whether the procedure was successful.

It’s about what happens after.

It’s about being a mom while your body feels like it got punched in the uterus.

It’s about co-leading a childcare centre when you’d rather close your eyes for just one more hour.

It’s about making dinner decisions when your brain is foggy and your energy is gone.

Recovering from surgery as a mom doesn’t come with a pause button.

There are lunches to pack.

Messages to answer.

Not so Tiny humans who still need consistency.

And the truth?

I don’t feel strong right now.

I feel tired.

The Invisible Part of Recovery

No one really talks about the quiet part of healing after uterine ablation.

The low-grade fever that makes you question if something’s wrong.

The soreness that isn’t dramatic but is constant.

The emotional edge that sneaks in when your body is working overtime to repair itself.

Working mom recovery is strange.

You’re not sick enough to disappear.

But you’re not well enough to operate at full capacity.

So you hover in the middle — still functioning, but slower.

And if you’re anything like me, slowing down feels uncomfortable.

Burnout and Physical Recovery Collide

Here’s what I’m realizing:

Burnout doesn’t politely wait until you’re physically strong again.

If anything, physical recovery exposes it.

When your body demands rest, you see clearly how much you were pushing before.

Leadership during hard seasons doesn’t look like powering through.

It looks like:

• Delegating when you normally wouldn’t
• Letting emails wait
• Saying “good enough” instead of perfect
• Trusting your team
• Going to bed early without apology

That’s not weakness.

That’s growth.

Healing While Still Showing Up

I am still showing up.

But differently.

I’m answering what’s urgent and letting the rest breathe.

I’m eating simply.

I’m choosing sleep over productivity.

I’m allowing myself to not be at 100%.

And maybe that’s what healing while holding it all together really means.

Not gripping tighter.

But softening.

Trusting that the world won’t fall apart if I rest.

Trusting that leadership doesn’t require self-abandonment.

Trusting that my body deserves the same care I give everyone else.

If you’re recovering from surgery as a mom…

If you’re leading during a hard season…

If you’re tired of pretending you’re fine…

You’re not weak.

You’re healing.

And sometimes holding it all together means loosening your grip.