Good morning, everyone,

It’s been a week since my transplant, and I’m feeling a little better each day. The first three days were the hardest in terms of pain—day three being the peak—but since then, I’ve been steadily improving. It still feels surreal to say that I have a new kidney. After so many months of waiting and hoping, it has finally happened. There’s a deep sense of relief, but also moments where I just sit with the enormity of it all—what this means for my life moving forward, how much of a sacrifice my donor and his family made, and how grateful I am to still be here.

One of the interesting things about the surgery is how everything seems to have happened on my right side. My new kidney was placed in my lower right abdomen, my port catheter was removed from the right side of my chest, and the breathing tube was placed on the right side of my mouth. So now, the entire right side of my body is swollen and bruised, while my left remains almost untouched. When I look in the mirror, I can’t help but giggle—it’s like I got whacked all on one side and walked away lopsided.

Meanwhile, back at home, Barney wasn’t himself on Saturday—fussy, not his usual smiley self. When he woke from a nap, I felt his forehead and immediately knew he had a fever. Unfortunately, that meant I had to leave the house right away and stay with my parents. Because I’m on high doses of immunosuppressants, my immune system is incredibly weak, and the first three months post-transplant are when I’m most vulnerable. I have to be extra careful to avoid getting sick.

Not being home with Barney has been one of the hardest parts. My instinct as a mom is to be there, nursing him back to health, and instead, I have to stay away. So I’ve been supporting from a distance—helping coordinate babysitting so Ian can work. My mother-in-law is at the house helping, so we’ve been on the phone troubleshooting things like fixing the formula machine and checking in on Barney’s health.

But I have to remind myself: this is what I fought for. To be here. To have more time with him, even if it means waiting a little longer now. It will do me no good if I get sick and end up back in the hospital.

In the meantime, I’ve been settling into a rhythm at my parents’ house. I write in the mornings, take slow walks around the cul-de-sac with my mom (walking is one of the best ways to help circulation and get blood flowing to my new kidney), read, play games, watch Hulu, and end my evenings with prayer. After months of fatigue, I notice every bit of energy returning and hold onto it with gratitude.

One of the medications I’m on is a high dose of prednisone, a steroid. It’s strange because last year, I felt like I was in a fog. I had lost so much executive functioning that I relied on Ian for things like taxes, bills, and logistical tasks. I don’t know if it’s the steroids, my new kidney, or both, but I’m regaining my executive functioning. Last night, Ian and I were on the phone, and he laughed because I had texted him to take out the garbage—something I hadn’t done in over a year. He said it was nice to have me back.

But prednisone comes with side effects—extreme moods and insomnia. A friend who had a kidney transplant six months ago told me that to fight the mood swings and insomnia, he started meditating and praying before bed. So I’ve been doing the same. I begin with prayers for Brad, my donor, and his family, then for myself—wishing us both good health and healing. I also spend time talking to my kidney, welcoming it, thanking it.

I thought it would feel strange to have an organ from someone else in my body, but in many ways, it feels like it belongs. And as an extension of that, I feel this deep sense of connection, gratitude, and love toward my donor and his family. I’ve never experienced love like this before—it’s awesome, in the truest sense of the word.

For now, I’m taking things day by day, letting my body heal, and looking forward to small but meaningful milestones—hugging Barney again, feeling strong enough to go for longer walks, and slowly returning to life with a little more energy and a lot more gratitude.

Signing off for now,
Danielle