I’m now two weeks and two days post surgery. I still can’t quite believe that I did it. It feels surreal, apart from the roughly 23lbs I’ve lost.

I am eternally grateful to my friends and family, who have been nothing other than completely supportive and present for me. I am lucky to have amazing people around for me, because they laugh and cry with me. Even at my best material.

The day of the actual surgery was surreal. As they wheeled me into the theatre, I had this huge fear that I wouldn’t wake up and not see my gorgeous girl ever again. I gulped it down and told myself to woman up. As I went under, her enormous grin was the last thing I thought about.

Vague memories of the day – nurses, doctors, my husband holding my hand, wires, my husband snoring in a chair next to me, IVs, more nurses, more doctors, being told I needed more pain medication. I was a fog of fentanyl, and grateful. Although I felt gross on it, I wasn’t able to think about what I’d done to myself. All for the right reasons, but there was a whiff of self-abasement about the whole thing.

The next day a very kind lady showered me. Literally walked me into a shower, and washed me. It was a very humane thing. I spoke a lot to the doctors this day, and the nutritionist came in. It didn’t make very much sense.

The lowest point after the surgery was that evening. I lay there for hours, full of regret about so many things. Why had I done this to myself? Why had I ever allowed myself to get into this situation in the first place? I know that my body likes being fat – it’s programmed to operate in that way, but what about the more? What about the more? More hours in the gym, more hours walking? More crazy diets? I cried hard. Falling asleep was hard, but waking up the next day was even better because I think I forgave myself a bit the night before. There is more work to be done there in therapy – but forgiving yourself is a positive, conscious action that you have to decide to do.

My friends came the next day and I was grateful. I felt good. They told me I looked good (if it was a lie I was glad of it). This cycle repeated over the next couple of days until I was allowed home. Some other amazing friends had taken the child for the day and she was returned to us that evening. Cuddling her confirmed that I had absolutely made the right decision.