After getting diagnosed with an umbilical hernia, my first thought wasn't fear of the surgery. It was fear of judgement.
"I'm a pelvic floor therapist! How am I the one who ended up with an umbilical hernia?"
I spend my days teaching people about breathing mechanics, core coordination, and how to move in ways that support healing. I help patients reconnect with their bodies and build resilience from the inside out.
So when I found out I needed surgery, a little voice in my head whispered:
"Shouldn't you have known better?"
Maybe you've had a thought like that too. Maybe you've wondered if your pelvic floor symptoms, your prolapse, your C-section recovery, or your pain means you did something wrong.
But after sitting with those feelings, I realized something important.
Even pelvic floor therapists have C-section scars.
Even gynecologists can have prolapse after giving birth.
Even knee physical therapists can injure their knee.
And yes — even pelvic floor therapists can develop hernias.
Bodies are beautifully complex. Genetics matter. Connective tissue matters. A diagnosis isn't proof that you failed. It's not evidence that you were weak or lazy or that you "should have exercised more" or "braced better." Sometimes our tissues need support despite our best efforts. Sometimes genetics play a role.
What my education gives me isn't immunity from injury — it's a roadmap for recovery.
I know how to respect the healing process.
I know how to rebuild strength gradually.
I know how to breathe, move, and load my body in ways that support the tissue that's healing instead of fighting against it.
And perhaps most importantly, I know not to blame myself.
And that's exactly what I want for my patients, too.
If you're carrying around guilt because your body has changed, or because you're dealing with symptoms you think you "should have prevented," I hope you'll let that burden go.
Your body is not a reflection of your worth.
Your diagnosis is not a grade on how well you've taken care of yourself.
Sometimes healing begins the moment we stop asking, "What's wrong with me?" and start asking, "What does my body need from me now?"
That's the mindset I took into surgery — and the one I'm carrying with me through recovery.
P.S. I'm sharing honest reflections from the patient side of healthcare. My hope is that they'll encourage you to give yourself the same compassion you'd offer someone you love. Follow along on Instagram & TikTok for more behind the scenes, too.