A year of sporadic sleep, hauling four babies around, and a few thousand hours in a rocking chair had taken their toll. My body wasn’t about to tolerate a rapid transition back to youthful vigor. The pain started in my lower back and progressed down my left leg. Within a week, I couldn’t walk without an electric shock shooting from my hip to my toes. I looked around the Web for a diagnosis and was incredulous when I found one that matched my symptoms. “Sciatica?!” I shouted. “Only old people get that! No way. This is just a temporary thing.” Three days later, I went to the doctor. He told me, “You have sciatica.”
And it was a blessing.
God had given us a tremendous gift. We had three beautiful, vivacious girls and a dashing, vigorous boy. And, they were all perfectly healthy, which is somewhat rare for quadruplets. Though I knew this and delighted in my children, I’d been exhausted and overwhelmed the whole time they’d been alive. God wasn’t about to let me dash off to other pursuits once I got a second wind. Sciatica gave me the grace to be still, something I’m terrible at. I needed to slow down and enjoy my son and daughters. They needed my new energy. They needed me to be focused and present as they learned to walk and talk, which they did with a vengeance once we were all getting plenty of sleep. They didn’t need a dad preoccupied with getting his old life back; they needed a dad who would sit down, shut up, and embrace his new one.
After getting sciatica, I realized that my new life was so much better than the old one. I woke up, slowed down, and realized that life felt more complete than it ever had. I started seeing my children in color instead of the black and white of fatigue. I relished holding them and letting them climb all over me. If God hadn’t pinched that nerve in my back as I was putting on my running shoes, I might not have discovered that.
