Endo Support for Moms, Dads, Partners, Family & Friends

Icons of computers, email, worldwide web

As a few of our attendees talked during our recent walk, it came out that they, as a supporter of someone with Endometriosis, would like a place to be able to continue conversations, ask questions, etc. with each other. Some don’t have Facebook, so we started a Google Group (which will allow you to correspond with each other either via email or a forum online).  Feel free to join:

If you’re a mom of an EndoWarrior and want to talk to other EndoMoms, please check out our new email-based Google Group, EndoMoms.

If you’re a dad of an EndoWarrior and want to talk to other EndoDads, please check out our new email-based Google Group, EndoDads.

If you’re a partner of an EndoWarrior and want to talk to other partners, please check out our new email-based Google Group, EndoPartners.

If you’re a supporter (friends or other family member) of an EndoWarrior and want to talk to other supporters, please check out our new email-based Google Group, EndoCircle

And if you’re an EndoWarrior, please feel free to either join our private Facebook group or our Google Group.

(This is all in the beginning stages…but it’s a baby step that needed to be taken)

And thanks to the Moms who got together and voiced this idea to me. ❤

In a Moment of Weakness

Box of tissues

My third robotic-assisted laparoscopic surgery is now seven days away.  As I lay awake in bed last night, my mind wandered to the process:  pre-op/intake, placement of the IV, a conversation with my surgeon, trying to wear a brave face as my Mom and husband do the same, the  ride down the hallway with the overhead lights (just like in the movies), the surgery room doors opening, and being greeted by staff as they make last-minute preparations for the procedure.  Then the moment of being placed on the operating table, getting strapped in, and the anesthesiologist coming to send me off to sleep.

It’s not easy.  It’s not a grand adventure.  But, partially it IS an adventure: the hope of relief, of a returning quality of life, a possibility of normalcy.  But, let’s be honest…it’s terrifying, it’s scary, and it’s going to hurt when you wake up…and the recovery takes weeks just to function; months to feel normal.  And for some women: they never get that sense of normalcy.

So, last night as these thoughts tumbled through my brain, I reached my hand out to my husband and laid it on his hip.  Before I knew what I was saying, the words “I’m nervous,” gently babbled out of my mouth.

He reached down and stroked my hand with his, then he pulled my hand up to his heart and held it there.  I closed my eyes and silently let the tears flow.  And he just held my hand firmly against his beating heart.  Until I fell asleep.

I love him. So very, very much.

I often get asked, “How does your husband deal with your illness?”

This.  This is how.

I don’t know where I would be in this Journey without him.