I can’t remember a time when I didn’t hurt. Some days the pain is bearable.
Some days it hurts to breathe.
I’m a military wife and mother to three very energetic little boys who rarely slow down to accommodate mom’s aching body.
Medically speaking, I have been diagnosed with fibromyalgia, bursitis, costochondritis, and osteoarthritis . . . and I am only 33 years old. My doctors have given up and referred me to pain management centers to try to get the pain under control.
I tell you this not for your sympathy. I tell you this because over 100 million Americans suffer with chronic pain.
Chances are one of you reading this is in the boat with me. Shortly after having our third child I reached a low point in my life. I was overwhelmed trying to juggle a 1 year old, a 2 ½ year old, and a newborn preemie.
All I wanted to do was sleep.
Sleep was the only way to escape the pain. Each day became a battle to keep from sliding down the slippery slope into depression pulling on me. I felt so helpless and weak, as though life was just happening to me.
In the midst of it all I heard the word a military wife dreads the most.