This decade came and went so quickly I didn’t even realize we were in the waning days until I read a headline in a magazine about trends to expect in the new decade. That headline got me thinking not so much about predictions of the decade to come, but about reflections on the past decade and lessons I’ll carry with me into the new one. After all, the best predictions, I believe, are based in evaluating the trends of the past and truly learning from them to adapt future behavior.

As 2010 began, I was a young 25 years old, freshly married, living in the Chicago area and still working for the same company I was when I graduated college in 2006. I don’t recall giving a lot of thought to a new decade, but if I did, I doubt I envisioned any major changes aside from maybe moving from my townhouse to a single-family home.

The best laid plans, however … you know the saying. Few things went as planned — some for the better, some for the worse, but all for the sake of life lessons and growth. The decade marked me emotionally and physically, each one with its own story.

The Emotional Scars

Most people who knew me throughout the early 2010s know I spent more than a year locked in the Cook County, Illinois, family court system in a vicious divorce with a dishonest and emotionally and mentally abusive individual. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt such profound relief as I did the day the judge pounded his gavel and finalized the proceedings — only days before Christmas.

The process ripped me apart, as one could expect, with piles of litigation-related paperwork, police reports, umpteen court appearances and more. I was heartsick to the point I was physically sick and questioned myself constantly. I believed divorce was wrong, but I also believed staying in a marriage devoid of love and respect, and one in which I was completely powerless, was wrong.

The entire process drove me to move to Pennsylvania earlier than I anticipated, where I promptly shut myself away from as much as the world as I could. Fortunately, loved ones pulled me back out of my hole slowly but surely. They extended patience, love and understanding to me at a time when I needed it and had little patience, love or understanding for myself.

As I knit myself back together, continued tele-counseling with my long-time therapist from Chicagoland and realized my own strength and worth, Brian came into my life.

He spent part of Christmas Day with my family and me that year and as I publicly thanked each of my family members for their support, I told him I suspected I was only just getting to know the tip of the iceberg in his wonderfulness. I was right.

The Physical Scars

Although the first half of this decade left me with invisible emotional scars, I can outline the second half of this decade through 21 inches of surgical scars. Six inches are from my hip arthroscopies in 2015, 2016, 2017; 7 inches from my emergency C-section in 2018; and 8 inches from my recent femoral osteotomy.

I spent much of the recovery from my first two hip arthroscopies in relative isolation in southeast Ohio. Brian worked odd and long hours and we had no friends within a nearly three-hour radius. I spent about three months on crutches each time and quickly had to become as independent as possible. My third arthroscopy (and what we thought would be my final hip surgery) was after we moved back to Pennsylvania and only days before we closed on our home and moved in.

After I recovered enough from my third arthroscopy, I became pregnant with Landon. Becoming a mom is in the top two most pivotal moments of the decade, alongside marrying Brian. Every birth is miraculous. Every baby is a gift. I look at Landon cannot believe Brian and I created him. My body grew him for 7 1/2 months and now he’s growing spectacularly all on his own.

But Landon’s life wasn’t the only miracle of April 16, 2018. Mine was, too. The trauma of that day and strong medication left me with no memory of the moments when I hung onto life by a thread, but are forever etched in Brian’s mind. From what he told me of the pre-birth moments, it’s a blessing they’re erased from my mind. Each time I see that 7-inch scar, which even still is keloid, raised and itchy, it’s a reminder of how fortunate we are to be alive and have our family intact, whole and healthy.

My newest scar — an 8-inch beast on my upper right thigh — is fresh. It hurts. Right now it represents one more step in my seemingly never-ending hip issues. Some days, I’m angry at a lifetime of hip pain and repeated surgeries with long recoveries. I’m angry at it hindering my ability to be an equal partner in our marriage and how I can’t independently care for my own child.

My body is so terribly tired and worn out from five consecutive years of surgery. Each one, however, is getting me closer to the ultimate goal of pain-free mobility and will hopefully let me live an active lifestyle for as many years as I want.

Binding the Wounds

All you need is love. Love makes the world go round. Songs, movies, books and more immortalize love in verse. Cliche though they may be, they’re cliches for a reason: They are true.

I left Chicago almost eight years ago, yet driving through the area during a recent trip triggered bad memories. Even now I sometimes have bad dreams. But everything that happened in Chicago in the early part of the decade is a fading scar now. My family, friends and therapist patiently and lovingly closed the gaping wounds I left Illinois with. The experiences I thought would never end did end, and in their place are strengthened and lasting relationships from all those who held me up when I was unable to do so myself.

Brian is in that bracket. We met near the end of that process and neither of us can claim I was whole when we met. But he saw enough in me to give it a shot. Today we exist in a marriage neither of us envisioned we could ever have. In our custom vows on Sept. 12, 2015, I told him, “Together we can be, we can dream and we can achieve what we cannot do alone. Our infinite love knows no boundaries. Together — hand in hand, heart in heart — we are unstoppable.” It is as true today as it was four years ago. It will hold true our entire lives.

He has been there every step of the way. He has helped me overcome the suffocating insomnia I developed in Illinois. He carried me across gravel driveways when I couldn’t crutch across them myself. He caught me when I fainted on a tile floor after another surgery. He performed chest compressions on me and suctioned out my lungs on April 16, 2018, as the doctors and nurses worked furiously for a positive outcome. He’s set his alarm for every couple hours in the middle of the night so he can ensure I stay ahead of my surgical pain, and then stays awake with me until the medications kick in enough to allow sleep. In the midst of all of this, he goes to his work, excels at his job and, most importantly, looks after Landon.

So What’s Next?

What will the 2020s bring? I know the decade will have trials. It will likely have goodbyes, sadness and challenges we can’t even begin to predict. But I know even more surely it will bring joy, great happiness and contentment. I hope throughout the aforementioned trials we will find peace along the way. Each will leave its mark on us.

I can hardly fathom the idea, but Landon will be a pre-teen by the end of this decade. Diapers and tantrums will be long-ago memories and he’ll be knee-deep in his own interests and hobbies.

I’ll likely add another several inches of physical scars to my body as I continue care under the director of hip preservation at the Cleveland Clinic. Brian and I will be well into our 40s by the end of the next decade.

Even though all of the scars of the past decade have ugly stories behind them, each scar has led to beautiful things. Because of them, I have beautiful relationships with family and with friends. Because of them, I met my husband, which led to our son. Because of them I have more confidence in myself and my ability to navigate life’s detours. Because of them I am more resilient. Because of them I will have a body that is physically able to keep up with the needs and wants of our lives. And because of them I have more wisdom, which I one day can pass onto Landon to help him grow and thrive.