From Surgery to School Runs: Everyday Wins After an Ostomy

I didn’t wake up one day after surgery feeling brave, confident, or "grateful to be alive." I woke up sore, confused, and staring at a part of my body I didn’t recognise. If you’re newly living with an ostomy, let me say this first: it’s okay if the big-picture gratitude hasn’t kicked in yet. Life doesn’t suddenly feel inspirational just because you survived something hard.

What did happen—slowly, quietly—was a series of small wins. Not the kind you post on motivational posters, but the kind that sneak up on you during normal life. And over time, those small moments stitched my confidence back together.

This isn’t a story about "thriving" overnight. It’s about everyday life returning—school runs, grocery trips, workouts, awkward moments, and the subtle realisation that you’re still you.

My first solo shopping trip

The First Win: Standing Up Without Fear

In the hospital, everything felt fragile. Every movement came with a question: Will something pull? Will something leak? Am I doing this right? The first time I stood up on my own without a nurse hovering felt like a milestone no one warned me about.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t pain-free. But it was mine.

That moment taught me something important: progress doesn’t announce itself. You don’t get a countdown or applause. You just notice one day that you’re doing something you couldn’t do last week.

Learning to Trust My Body Again

Trust takes time. After surgery, my body felt unpredictable. Sounds, movement, output—everything had a learning curve. I watched it like a stranger at first.

The win came when I stopped monitoring every sensation and started listening instead. When I learned what normalfelt like again. When I could tell the difference between a real issue and anxiety talking.

That trust didn’t come from being perfect. It came from repetition. From living.

Getting Dressed Without a Mental Checklist

At the beginning, getting dressed felt like a strategy session.

• Will this fabric cling?

• Will the waistband sit right?

• Will anyone notice?

One morning, I pulled on clothes and walked out the door without checking the mirror five times. No outfit planning. No mental rehearsal. Just… clothes.

That’s when I realised confidence doesn’t always look bold. Sometimes it looks boring—and that’s a good thing.

The First Solo Errand

Running errands used to be automatic. After surgery, it felt like a test.

The first time I went out alone—to the shops, no backup supplies stuffed nervously into every pocket—I was hyper-aware of everything. Every sound. Every step.

Nothing happened.

And that was the win.

Normality returned not because life changed dramatically, but because it didn’t.

School Runs and Real Life

Life doesn’t pause for recovery. Kids still need lunches packed. Schedules still exist. Responsibilities don’t care if you’re emotionally processing a medical device.

The first school run after surgery felt surreal. Standing among other parents, chatting about homework and weekend plans, I realised something powerful: no one could tell. And more importantly—it didn’t matter.

I was just another parent doing their best.

That sense of belonging again? That was a win.

Movement Without Overthinking

Exercise came back in pieces. A walk around the block. Then a longer one. Then movement without constantly checking in with my body.

The first time I broke a sweat without panic—without wondering if I was pushing too hard or risking something—I felt strong again. Not pre-surgery strong. A new kind.

Strength after an ostomy isn’t about bouncing back. It’s about moving forward differently.

Managing the Awkward Moments

Let’s be honest—there are awkward moments.

A noise at the wrong time. A bathroom that’s less than ideal. An unexpected question from someone who means well but doesn’t think before speaking.

The win isn’t avoiding these moments. It’s handling them with less shame.

One day, I laughed instead of freezing. Another day, I set a boundary without apologising. Those were wins too.

Feeling Comfortable in Public Again

Comfort isn’t just physical—it’s mental. It’s the moment you stop scanning rooms for exits. The moment you sit through a meal without worry. The moment you forget about your ostomy entirely because you’re present.

Those moments grew longer over time.

At first, they lasted minutes. Then hours. Now, sometimes, whole days.

The Power of the Right Support

Not all support looks like big conversations. Sometimes it’s practical. Sometimes it’s wearing something that helps you feel secure, supported, and less aware of your bag throughout the day.

Feeling held—literally—can change how you move through the world. It gives you back mental space. And mental space is everything when you’re rebuilding confidence.

Redefining Confidence

Confidence after an ostomy doesn’t mean loving your body every day. It doesn’t mean never feeling self-conscious.

It means living anyway.

It means showing up to school runs, workouts, dinners, and daily life without waiting to feel "ready." It means allowing yourself to be seen as you are—human, healing, capable.

Looking Back

If I could speak to myself in those early days, I wouldn’t say, "You’ll be fine." I’d say this instead:

You won’t notice the moment you become okay again—but one day you’ll realise you already are.

Life after an ostomy isn’t about dramatic transformation. It’s about returning to yourself in quiet, meaningful ways.

From surgery to school runs.

From fear to familiarity.

From surviving to living.

And that’s more than enough.