I am generally not a patient person. But I must set aside all of my restlessness and just BE.
My physical recovery, while not out of the range of normal, is slow. I had my first baby when I was 24. Now I'm 39. There has been a lot of mileage.
Thinking I was progressing more quickly than I was in actuality, I started resuming usual activities. I did laundry. I went to the grocery store (for a small trip), carrying Miss Moppet on my chest. I cleaned the kitchen.
I didn't feel like I was overdoing it, but then unmistakable signs appeared that I was. Back to bed with me. Even sitting up too long caused regression. I spent most of the weekend in bed. I worked on a birthday present for someone. I made tiny knitted hats. I read multiple books on the history of the American space program.
In the meantime the house started disintegrating. I couldn't walk to the kitchen for something to drink without cringing. It was a major effort to restrict myself to loading and starting the dishwasher and not wash the pots and pans. I had to walk into the boys' room to say goodnight and not give in to the urge to pick up the shoes on the floor (and the 13,489 other things).
I hate nagging so I have kept quiet except for some gentle reminders to "take out the trash" and "bring your dirty clothes to the sorter". Not everyone shares my nit-pickiness for tidying and I have to be patient with that. I'm not used to playing queen bee and dictating what everyone else will do while lying on my couch eating bon-bons (relatively speaking, of course).
For now, my job is primarily to take care of the baby, to remember to drink enough, to rest until I'm healed. As much as I want to go out for long walks, I can't. I can't even take short walks right now. I have to remember I'm only 18 days out from major surgery. Even if some people manage to start jogging after only 10 days (highly inadvisable, by the way), that's not the timeline my body is on.