My Scar

At my two week follow-up after Eli's birth my doctor examined my scar and seemed disappointed in her handiwork. Sure, the left edge of my scar was a little puffy and rigid, but after five c-sections I'm not exactly a bikini model and I could really care less. Funny this is, I remember at one of my follow-ups after Wyatt's birth she was also displeased with his scar. So much so that she literally cut it out when our first daughter was born and I have to say the new scar was better. The appearance of the scar doesn't phase me one bit. It's my physical reminder of the birth of all five of my children. It is imperfect. A bit jagged, a bit rough. Just like me. Just like life. It has its ups and downs, its smoothness and ragged edges.

I've thought about this scar a lot. What it means, what it symbolizes. Wyatt. It is there because of my precious first born son. If Wyatt didn't have Potter's Syndrome and had amniotic fluid to float in, he would have likely not gotten stuck in a transverse position. If he hadn't been in a transverse position, I would have likely delivered him naturally and not had a c-section. Had I not been so heartbroken and empty-armed we likely wouldn't have conceived our daughter so quickly and I would not have been almost thirty-nine weeks pregnant for Wyatt's first birthday. I would likely have not feared losing my second child to the small percentage of uterine ruptures for vaginal births after c-sections and likely not chosen to have a second c-section. Had those events not taken place I may never have had a c-section, I may not have this scar. This mark of my imperfect life.

My scar also represents healing. Time after time it heals with little to no help from me. Stitches and staples have held it together until it mends itself. Much like our hearts. Expressions of love, support and sympathy are the stitches and staples on my heart, holding it together until it can mend itself. Soon, like my stomach, it will be strong again.