An unexpected, untimely, and undesired end to my season: ACLs, MCLs, and MRIs, oh my!

I hate to start a blog with a vague platitude which could be interpreted as empty and shallow, but in this case I feel as though this one truly does apply to my situation. (Plus, it's not an easy topic to blog about). Life is full of unexpected twists and turns, and, unfortunately, mine took an unpleasant one recently, about two weeks ago if I'm to be more precise. I also do not want to be super dramatic because I recognize that what I'm going through is not the end of the world and is merely an unfortunate part of playing a high-impact sport, but it is certainly a situation I had until now been able to, and had always hoped to, avoid.

Throughout my playing career I have seen countless teammates experience the same injury, but no two recoveries have been the same. Some came back stronger than before, others came back but took longer to regain their playing rhythm, others came back only to be injured yet again, and still others never even managed to come back. I obviously hope to be among the first group, a hope which will have to be accompanied by a disciplined rehab process.

I suppose before I go into too much more detail about the recovery, I should probably just come out and say what my injury actually is, if you have not already guessed. If you want another hint—especially if you follow international soccer—, it's the same injury that kept Radamel Falcao, Theo Walcott, and Victor Valdes out of the World Cup in Brazil. It's an injury which requires surgery and a minimum of 6 months rehabilitation before being cleared to compete again. Part of my resistance to directly state what happened is due to the resistance to admit and accept what happened to me, but our team psychologist (porteños love psychologists, which I will probably have to elaborate upon in another post) told me that acceptance is the first step towards a positive recovery. Well, here goes... In our game against Estudiantes de La Plata on June 8th, I tore my anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) and medial collateral ligament (MCL) in my left knee during an Estudiantes corner kick with only 15 minutes or so remaining in the second half and with River winning 3-0.

I don't know what really happened. I think I just landed wrong, and when I tried to change directions to react to a rebound, I felt my knee collapse inwards and heard something pop. Honestly, I only vaguely remember what happened before the injury, and then, with perfect clarity, I can see myself lying on the ground inside the goal crying like I've never cried before, not so much because of the pain, but because in that moment my brain started to run at 100 miles per hour. First I thought about missing the rest of the game, then about missing the rest of the season, then about missing the Copa Libertadores, then about losing the opportunity to play with the national team, and finally about the injury possibly being the end of my playing career. It felt almost as though it had happened to somebody else, almost like those nightmares in which you watch yourself suffer your worst fears, not in first person but instead from a distance, helpless and unable to do anything but stand back and be a spectator to your own pain. (Slightly overdramatic perhaps, but in that moment, it felt as though my world was coming crashing down, all the hard work and preparation invested during this season and the previous seasons were rendered useless in a matter of seconds.)

Some of my teammates and some people who watched the match thought someone pushed me when I jumped. It was a mess in the box and that team is known for taking cheap shots. My center back heard another teammate say that an Estudiantes player had hit me, and she completely lost it—or so I'm told, I didn't even know she had received a yellow card after that play—, jumping up to yell at the referee and push a few Estudiantes players around. Either way, whether someone pushed me or I fell on my own, I was injured, and no looking back on how it happened was going to change that.

When the team doctor and trainer ran over to me, it took a while for them to calm me down, I only stopped bawling after they each did the initial ACL test, and both said it was negative and the only ligament which appeared to be injured was the MCL, which only requires about 2 months of non-surgical recovery and rehabilitation. To be safe, however, the doctor ordered an X-Ray (for any potential bone damage) and an MRI (to see the ligaments) of my knee for the next night to truly be able to diagnose the injury. Before my MRI, one of the orthopedists at River saw me and also did some physical tests of my knee, and he came up with the same preliminary diagnosis as the team doc and the team trainer, a sprain or partial tear of the MCL. Despite the confidence with which the medical team assured me that I had most likely only damaged the MCL, I couldn't help but consider the possibility that I had also torn my ACL after hearing so many stories of what my teammates felt when they had torn theirs.

The next afternoon, my fears were confirmed. The team doctor called me and informed me that the MRI report showed I had in fact torn both my MCL and my ACL (could I use more acronyms??). Luckily, I was with two friends who were able to confort me when I involuntarily began to cry yet again, not quite as bad as right after the injury but possibly in a more embarrassing environment, the cafeteria at my university.  They helped me regain my composure in time to go to class, but it was still nearly impossible for me to concentrate on what the professor was saying as my brain was whirring once again at the speed of light, or so I'd like to think, considering all possible outcomes to my situation. Add to my concerns the constant vibration of my phone as concerned friends, teammates, and coaches sent me consoling messages, and you can understand why my page of notes for that 3 hour class was almost empty except for a few unintelligible lines.

The official team announcement regarding my injury was made during our weekly meeting with the club psychologist. Surprisingly, no tears were shed. Our team goal for the season is and has always been to win the league and classify for the Copa Libertadores, the South American version of the UEFA Champions League. Already we've had to deal with multiple obstacles, our roster has changed significantly since the beginning of the season, we have to fight daily with the mens' teams for the right to use the fields at the club, weekend after weekend of suspended games due to weather and holidays, but after each challenge we've grown stronger as a team, more united and more driven to accomplish our goal.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a typical American, feel-good, inspirational sports film. Here come the underdogs, year after year coming in second or third, always falling short of the ultimate prize to their main rivals (Boca), but not this year, this year is going to be the one. Everything is coming together to make it happen; despite minor setbacks along the way, all the pieces appear to be falling into place, but then, when everything seems right, something devastating happens, a major injury to a player in a position where the only back-up has not played competitively for over a year and a half. Can the team overcome this seemingly impossible obstacle? My team's situation has all the makings for a great movie, and I know my team has the potential and the ability to achieve a glorious ending, but I wish my role would have been a different one or our obstacle could have been more like an anonymous enemy trying to sabotage our season... Nevertheless, the situation is what it is, and now I have to start the long road to recovery, taking it one day at a time.

Thankfully, I am blessed to be surrounded by a community of friends, family, and teammates who will help me along the way. My team made that clear before our game on Friday, holding up a banner which said: "Everyday is a new beginning. You are not alone. We love you Gaby!" Needless to say, in my current state as a "glass case of emotion", when I saw the banner, I began to sob tears of joy and sadness at the same time, thankful for the sign of support which I know is more than words.

So, here's to River Plate Women's Soccer and to the growth which comes along with facing the challenges life throws in our path.

A brief word of thanks and encouragement to old, new, and future dads

Due to present circumstances, on which I will elaborate in an upcoming post, this post will be a rather short, but I hope sweet, reflection on fatherhood.

As this is the second straight Father's Day I am spending away from my father, my thoughts might be slightly more nostalgic or romanticized than normal, but the praise I give my dad is fully deserved. Being thousands of miles away from my family allows me to step back a little and realize how blessed I am to have such loving parents. The distance certainly doesn't ease the pain of missing them especially in the difficult moments when the easiest way to react is to let your dad wrap you in a big bear hug and reassure you that everything is going to turn out fine, but I can rest in the knowledge that despite the fact that we are separated by an 11-hour plane ride, my dad (don't worry, mom, I know you love me too!) loves me more than I can imagine and desires the very best for my life, which is why he (and my mom) was willing to let me go so far away to pursue my dreams.

I'm trying to imagine my dad not as a dad, but it's impossible. Being a dad is part of his DNA. It's almost as though when he took on the role of father, all his best qualities were able to reveal themselves to the fullest—love, patience, kindness, service, selflessness, wisdom, honesty. Obviously, I know that's not the case; the transition to fatherhood was neither automatic nor easy. My father was not born a father, the responsibility is not a simple undertaking nor was it a position which comes with a handbook and training. Fatherhood is not a job which always produces tangible rewards; years and years of investment of time, money, and effort can go by without any returns or clear recognition. However, I want to encourage the fathers reading this to strive on, to be an example of what true selfless love is, not just to their children and to their wives but also to the other men in their community; to fight against the temptation of taking the easy way out, the path of least resistance; to lead their family mercifully yet justly because while the rewards may not be visible immediately, when the harvest comes, all the toil put in to the raising of their children will be evident for generations to come.

Fatherhood is an enormous responsibility, but, done right, it is a truly beautiful manifestation of unconditional love and leadership.

One is not just born a mother... An ode to mothers everywhere—past, present, and future

[This post is dedicated to my (brave) friends who are celebrating their first Mother's Day from the other 'hood: motherhood]

Motherhood is a difficult topic to reflect upon at this moment, lately it's been a rather sensitive subject and something which has been crossing my mind more frequently than ever before. For most of my life, up until the last few years, I had been able to admire mothers all around me, my own mother, my friends' mothers, teachers, professors, church leaders, etc, relishing their loving guidance and sacrifice which just seemed to flow naturally. It never occurred to me that at one point, these women had been young single ladies just like me, trying to figure out their careers, scoping out potential boyfriend candidates, going out with friends, and just learning to survive on their own. 

Recently, however, I've become more aware of the fact that these women—my mother included— were not always mothers (I know, crazy right?), even though I had always known them in that role. This realization has been brought about by a combination of factors, hormones probably being one such factor but not a principal contributor. In the last year or two, various childhood, high school, and college friends have become, or are in the process of becoming, mothers. These are friends with whom I used to wonder and speculate about who we would marry, what our future children would be like, and other such "grown-up" plans but always as events which were far off, intangible, almost as fantastic as hoping to get into Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (I apologize if I have just crushed the hopes and dreams of some young reader still waiting for his/her acceptance letter...).

Now, those daydreams are becoming reality, I no longer have to imagine what my best friend from high school's baby will look like because he's already here, as of about a month ago. It's not at all that I'm scared for my friends as they take on their new roles as mothers; I think I'm scared that soon I'm going to be in a similar situation, maybe not within the next few years but, even so, motherhood is much closer than it was in high school or even college. What will the transition be like? Will my future husband and I know when we're ready to be parents?

I think the scariest thing of all is the responsibility which comes with motherhood: the task of not just taking care of a baby, then a toddler, then a child, and so forth, but the realization that, as a mother, you have the responsibility of raising a human being, teaching your child how to live, guiding him until he is ready to live independently and begin his own career and family, leaving his own footprint on this world, for good or for bad, and while a mother can neither predict nor control who her child will become, she has an essential role in the entire process.

Add to all those concerns society's message that children are not blessings but actually burdens, weights which anchor us down, holding us back from achieving our career and life goals, from living life to the fullest, enjoying everything this world has to offer. Sometimes I even start to believe that lie as I walk around Buenos Aires and see the tired faces of countless mothers pushing one child in a  stroller while yelling after her other child who is running ahead along the sidewalk, but when I least expect it, God reveals a glimpse of true beauty...

A toddler running, or, rather, teetering, towards her mother with her arms reached high over her head, a smile too big for her little face which brightens up the mood of everyone within a fifteen meter radius, as her mother sweeps her up into a loving embrace.

A fourteen-year-old girl cries as her middle-aged mother hugs her, caressing her hair, reassuring her that she is beautiful and loved, and will always be loved, no matter what life may throw in her direction.

A twenty-three-year-old young lady far from home, confused about which career path to take, worried about how to grow up, shares all her concerns, her hopes, her dreams with her mother via a video call, only to hear her mother tell her she loves her more than she could ever imagine and will always be there to support her and listen.

Okay, maybe the last example was a bit close to home, but that's when I realize the relationship between a parent and child is something so unique, so special, so complex that trying to wrap your head around it is just as futile as trying to grasp the depth, width, and height of God's love for us. There is certainly a reason God chose to use the image of a Father and child to illustrate His relationship with us through Christ. 

I have been blessed with a mother who has exemplified true love, guidance, and sacrifice for her children in every possible way. She and my father have made not only a wonderful parenting team but also have been a reflection of a Godly, loving, and committed marriage relationship, and I could not be more thankful for them. I pray that as my friends and I head into this next stage of life (if it's something we are called to do), we too would be able to reflect Christ's love in our marriages and in our relationships with our children.

To all the mothers and soon-to-be mothers reading this, I want to encourage you and wish you a happy Mother's Day. Thanks for all the sacrifices you make and for showing us what it means to love without expecting anything in return, to love completely selflessly, to be a bit of Heaven on earth.